Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Forgotten Realms in anyway or form other then the OC's later on.
A/N: here it is after so long its here the next chapter for Dark Allies, now I hope to get the next chapter to you a lot quicker then this one but I have to work with my beta on this and she has her own fics to deal with so I get my fics worked on when she has done with hers.
Chapter 10: Silverymoon and Mithril Hall.
From his position on the ridge Drizzt looked out over the river Rauvin at the minarets and spires crowning the beauty of Silverymoon. From this height he could see many of the ancient trees where the Elven population made their homes, the humans living about their bases. Below the surface, amid the roots of the trees and the rocks of the ground, the dwarves of the city resided. The races lived in harmony within the enchanted city, secure and safe with the enchantments that guarded their peace.
The walls of the city were Dwarven crafted, the stones fitting so neatly together not even the finest knife blade could fit between. Elven and human magic had gone into the fashioning of the walls and the city was warded with enchantments to keep evil at bay. Silverymoon was a centre of learning, the greatest city of the North. It held at bay the wild and savage clans of Orcs and Goblins from overrunning the smaller towns and settlements in the area.
Silverymoon was unique amid the cities of the realms, having the reputation of accepting every race that walked Faerun, provided they came in peace and sought not to disturb her citizens. Once within her walls the colour of your skin, or the tilt of your ears, was said to have no meaning. While it was nice to think so Drizzt knew better, himself having been disappointed on his first foray to the city, though a visit from the Lady herself had assured him it was a political matter and once peace was assured she would certainly welcome him into her domain.
Drizzt sighed as he considered the view. He had walked a long road and watched many friends die. Silverymoon was the first surface city to have welcomed him as an equal and not judged him by the colour of his skin. The reputation of Drow was such that he was usually met by swords and arrows and not too much in the way of words. Silverymoon had been the exception and he had indeed been welcomed within its walls and was often the guest of the Lady herself. On and off over the years he had made his home there, though he could not stop his restless feet from leaving time and time again. It had been some years since he had come to Silverymoon and it would be interesting to see if he knew anyone on the gate.
Securing his sword belt and drawing the cowl to cover his white hair he started down the ridge, silent as only the best Rangers could be. He picked his way with skill hidden amidst the undergrowth off the direct path, ever aware of the dangers of the wild, even so close to the city. He was quite looking forward to returning, if only briefly.
He smirked at the excited exclamations of awe and wonder of a party approaching the Gate House marking the end of the road. The wagon ahead of them trundled past the building and seemed to roll along on thin air, much to the excited wonder of those waiting to be passed into the city. The Moonbridge was famous throughout Faerun and only one of the many wonders to be found in Silverymoon.
He waited behind a screen of bushes for the travelers to be questioned by the two guards at the Gate House, one of whom was an old elf whose hair was starting to turn grey. He carried a longbow strapped to his back and his breastplate gleamed in the sun as only Mithril could. A thin bladed sword rested comfortably at his hip and competence oozed from him. The Elf was a veteran, long in years and experience and known to Drizzt personally. The Dark Elf doubted he would have any trouble entering Silverymoon on this trip.
Beside the Elf stood a young human, who looked to be little more than a child, fresh from training and keen to prove his worth. It was wisdom to team such an excitable youngling with one of Respen's experience, Drizzt mused. The Elf would balance the human's youthful exuberance and keep the young fool from making possibly deadly mistakes. The young warrior wore a steel chain mail shirt, Dwarven crafted Drizzt noted, and a long sword hung at his waist.
The human saw Drizzt first as he stepped out of his screening bushes. His forest green cloak was thrown back over one shoulder to reveal the Mithril chain mail he wore and he carried his backpack slung over one shoulder, leaving one hand free and near the hilt of Twinkle. Even so close to the city one needed to be on his guard and Drizzt had learned long ago never to let down his guard. From beneath the shelter of his cloak's cowl he watched the young guard straighten and look him up and down.
The boy, it appeared, was not a fool and knew danger when he saw it. He even displayed a modicum of intelligence by not reaching for his weapon, instead calling the Elf from where he watched the last of the travelers pass safely over the Moonbridge.
"Hey Respen. Who do you think this is? He moves like he's dangerous."
The Elf, seated within the Guard House with his feet propped comfortably on the table as he watched the bridge, looked up and leaned to the left sufficiently to gain a view of the approaching stranger. He added a silent reminder to himself to mark 'Rabbit's report with a glowing compliment. The boy had real potential to go far in the defence of Silverymoon, being far from a hot head and prone to caution before action. This one might even make an officer if he continued to show good sense.
Respen's lips slowly stretched into a lazy smile as he studied the deep green cloak and particularly the Mithril armour.
"If my guess is right then we had best notify the Lady she will be having a visitor." He remarked to the human, swinging his feet from the table and joining him. "Mark this one well, Rabbit, he is a rare individual and you might be in your dotage before he returns this way again."
Drizzt had reached the Gate House by this time and seeing cool heads prevail tilted his hood a little to show his face and smiled. "Is the Lady in this fine day, gentlemen?"
"Master Ranger." Respen inclined his head and offered his hand. "The Lady should be in the palace at this time of day, Drizzt. It has been a long time since you visited Silverymoon."
"Too long." He murmured, inclining his head to the human who watched him with wide eyes. Drow were rare on the surface and he was accustomed to being stared at. It was the least of the possible reactions which might have greeted him at a cities gate.
"Go on into the city, Master Do'Urden. I have no doubt the Lady will welcome the sight of you after so long."
Drizzt smiled and inclined his head, moving on and setting foot to the Moonbridge, un-phased by the seeming thin air beneath his feet. With his first step on the bridge he was suddenly not walking on air but on a solid bridge. Despite the many times he had walked this course he still felt some awe at the magic of the construction which made the bridge invisible until you were granted permission to cross.
"Master Do'Urden? Drizzt Do'Urden, the Ranger?" Rabbit's voice faded behind him as he walked and he sighed. Humans lived so quickly and briefly. He wondered if the boy would be alive the next time he came this way.
Once across the bridge Drizzt passed into the city through the gates in the white walls, his senses being immediately assaulted in a most pleasant fashion. Unlike some cities Silverymoon was not a swirling cesspool of the races of Faerun. The city had been planned and its citizens and rulers took pride in its appearance. No urchins mobbed travelers seeking handouts, no beggars or cutthroats paraded the streets looking for prey. Such did exist within Silverymoon, though to his knowledge there were few who fell into the category of beggar within these walls.
The rich aroma of fresh baking bread and cooking foods at the neat row of Inns and stalls along which he walked surrounded him. The streets were wide and the citizens strolled, seeming to be in no hurry. The newcomers to Silverymoon were obvious by their wide eyed stares at the neatness and cleanliness of this metropolis. Gardens of all shapes and sizes peeked over courtyard walls or through picket fences, some growing on balconies and draping gracefully over the streets.
"It's been too long." Drizzt sighed softly, strolling along the wide street leading to the palace.
There were people he recognized, the occasional Dwarf and Elves he had known since he had first come to Silverymoon. Humans were rarer to receive his nod of recognition, the short lived race being hard to recognize they aged so quickly. He had come this way many years before on his way into the Spine of the World Mountains. Many of the humans he had been acquainted with might now be dead and certainly many of the younger one's would be approaching their senior years. Some of the magic users were likely to be recognizable having the means to extend their lives, but there were few enough of those he would desire to see again.
He paused on rounding the last corner in the street, taking the time to admire the Palace. It was something of a legend, this white marble place of statues, towers and fountains. The finest workmanship by man, Dwarf and Elf had gone into its crafting and magic had been woven into the very stones so that the palace exuded a mystical aura few could fail to feel.
The Elven Guard at the Gate watched as he approached, and he had no doubt Respen had sent word ahead of his presence within the city. The humans and the single Dwarf gathered at the gate watched him approach, no hands straying toward any of the very visible weapons on display. Peaceful though Silverymoon was the citizens were always ready to defend themselves, and their city, from outsiders who thought to disrupt their peace.
He was waved past the gates and none sought to impose themselves upon him as he moved to the grand facade of steps leading up to the main doors. As he approached the doors swung open and an Elf, his age apparent in the silver in his once golden hair executed a perfect, graceful bow, motioning him within the wide hallway.
"The Lady has been informed of your arrival, Master Do'Urden."
Drizzt remembered the Elf and himself bowed, equally graceful. This one was a wizard, ancient by human years and deserving of respect. Drizzt wondered if he might live to the centuries of this Elf and in the next breath doubted it. He was a Ranger, a fighter and it was more likely he would die on some battlefield.
"The Ladies audiences are near concluded but she would welcome a visit from you."
Inclining his head respectfully he walked deeper into the palace, knowing the way only too well to where Alustriel held audience each day. Her court was gathered about her, those with petitions and in need of council stood at the foot of the dais upon which sat the Lady herself. Silence fell over the hall as people became aware of the cloaked figure pacing toward the dais and, though he made no move toward them, the petitioners backed away, leaving a clear path between him and the steps.
He did not acknowledge the looks directed at him. Some were outsiders to Silverymoon and appeared scandalized a Drow walked freely within the palace. Others whispered amongst themselves, no doubt asking if anyone knew who he was. He ignored them all, having eyes only for the silver haired woman rising from her seat as he mounted the dais and bowed to her.
Alustriel was tall, one of the famed Seven Sisters and uncommonly beautiful. They had not seen each other in many years and she was as he recalled her to be, ageless and beautiful. The wondrous silver cascade, worn loose when last he had visited with her, was now wound into a high coiffure and set off by the simple filigree circlet that marked her rank as ruler of the finest city in the North lands. Her silk gown clung to every curve of her body even as it enhanced the beauty of a perfect female form any male of the court would kill for a chance to have grace their beds.
"Drizzt Do'Urden, it is with great pleasure I welcome you once more to Silverymoon. What is it that brings you out of your grieving?" Her voice was soft and genteel, melodious.
"My Lady, I would speak with you in private if I may."
Drizzt found it was, indeed, very good to see the Lady once more, and Alustriel beamed on receiving one of his rare smiles sparkling with restrained mischief. The Lady was delighted to see the smile was reflected in his wonderful lavender eyes which, for too long, had reflected the sadness of his life.
"Court is dismissed until tomorrow at noon." Alustriel motioned to her advisers and held out her hand to the Drow.
Rising to the niceties of court Drizzt offered his arm, the lady's hand resting on his, so pale against his dark skin. Drizzt walked with Alustriel as they crossed the audience hall and slipped into the private hallways leading to the upper floor where Alustriel had her chambers.
"You are looking well, Drizzt. I am pleased."
Alustriel kept up a light flow of conversation as they moved through the palace, aware of the ever present eyes and ears. She was delighted to see the Drow again and made no pretense otherwise. Only when they reached her private quarters did Alustriel turn to the men and women following in silent procession and dismiss them, preceding Drizzt into her sitting room and bidding him close the door behind him.
Pulling at the voluptuous flowing sleeves of her court gown Alustriel glanced up at Drizzt as she motioned her waiting maid to depart and when quite alone with him she grinned, all mischief.
"Now, Drizzt, what brings you to Silverymoon? I have activated wards to give us privacy and I hope you don't mind, but I absolutely must get out of this."
One pale eyebrow arched upward as the expensive and exquisite silk gown was unceremoniously stripped from the lithe body and with a whirl of silk, discarded. Pale limbs were glimpsed along with the briefest glimpse of undergarments as the Lady stepped behind a screen and Drizzt sighed softly and settled himself into a chair, focusing his attention out the window at the gardens below.
"It is just so good to get out of that dress. Why court wear has to be so formal and heavy I don't know."
Drizzt considered the silk puddle on the floor and refrained from answering. While silk was light there was a great deal of it resting there and it was decorated in gold and jewels, all of which would give it weight. A wispy trail of blue silk floated through the door nearest Alustriel's screen and a long shapely arm appeared to grasp it as it neared and in seconds the Lady, now clad in the lighter and considerably shorter blue gown, stepped from behind her screen.
"Much better." Alustriel deftly removed pins holding the high coil of her hair in place and walked across the room toward a small table containing decanters and glasses. "Tell me why you have come, Drizzt. I had hoped to see you before this and you have the look of someone on a mission about you. This is, I gather, no pleasure trip?"
"It is good to see you, Lady Alustriel and I am pleased to see Silverymoon once more. I wished to see you for the sake of our friendship, but I also need some small assistance. I must reach Mithril Hall inside of three days, and thence reach Waterdeep with all speed."
Alustriel considered the Drow for a long moment before she poured wine into two goblets and made her way with the drinks back to Drizzt. "Why the rush, my friend?"
"It is a rather long and somewhat convoluted story, and there will be a better time to tell you the details of it. For now, in brief, I have moved to a planet called Earth which is engaged in a war with a Dark Wizard named Voldemort. It appears the Dark Lord has discovered the means to enter Faerun and has acquired certain allies here against whom the people of Earth are singly unprepared to face."
Alustriel settled in the chair opposite Drizzt and placed the goblets on the window sill. "This is disturbing."
"Even more so when you consider these allies are Drow from, I believe, Menzoberranzan. I have come in search of allies who might even the odds, and give the people I have come to know and consider Family a chance against this unholy alliance. From all accounts the threat of Voldemort is bad enough, but when teamed with Drow…" He shook his head slightly and Alustriel nodded her understanding.
Drizzt sipped his wine and relaxed back into his chair. Alustriel would understand the implications only too well and though her concern was Silverymoon and the Northern lands of Faerun she would have a care for a people totally unprepared for the threat Drow presented. He doubted he would need to say more about the situation and settled back to wait, giving her the opportunity to think.
Slender fingers rubbed slowly and absently against the window sill, her silver hair blowing gently in the breeze. He watched the gardens below and the courtiers who came and went, content with the silence.
Alustriel nodded after a time, coming to a decision. "Very well, Drizzt. I will gift to you the fastest horse in my stable, and he shall be shod with enchanted shoes. If you leave within the hour you could reach Mithril Hall before the night is done. I shall arrange for a squad of volunteers from my Knights of Silver to accompany you to this world you now choose to call home. If you could give me the details of where to send them, and when, I shall see they arrive."
"You are most generous, My Lady. There is a mage in Waterdeep named Merinid. He knows of the gate to Earth and will arrange for their passage. He has volunteered his services and should be preparing to leave Faerun soon. My Lady Liriel is teaching on Earth and will require time off soon and he has volunteered to take her place."
Alustriel nodded slowly, considering the Ranger for a long moment before she rang a small silver bell and turned to address the servant who entered at the summons.
"Yes, My Lady?" He was human, dressed in fine white clothes that claimed not a single crease.
"Send word to the stables to have Thunder shod with his special shoes. You may inform the Stable Master to see to it himself, and thence to hand the stallion to Master Do'Urden
The servant bowed and closed the door behind him and Alustriel turned bright eyes on the Drow. "Now, Master Do'Urden, we shall have a few minutes in which to clear up a couple of matters before you make your way down to the stables. I shall contact Merinid and arrange a pick up point for my troops. He and his charming wife are known to me. I wish you every fortune and Tymora's blessing on your journey."
Drizzt nodded and rose to his feet but Alustriel lightly touched his arm, stilling his movement to leave and continue on his way.
"You said Liriel? To be exact, 'My Lady Liriel'. Perchance the Liriel you speak of is the Priestess of Eilistraee named Liriel Baenre?" At Drizzt's faint nod Alustriel arched an eyebrow. "I met her some years ago and she did not strike me as the sort to take time off from a commitment unless something… Drizzt? Have you finally come to terms with the past and moved on?"
Nodding Drizzt sighed softly. "Liriel is pregnant with my child. We met by chance and it was fortuitous for both of us. She, like I, had old wounds that required healing and we found ourselves healing each other. I like to think Cattie-brie would approve."
"I have no doubt your Cattie-brie would be smiling in approval. You have grieved for what you have lost long enough, my friend. It is time you began to live again and from what I know of Liriel, she would be very good for you. My congratulations to you both for finding a future together, now be on your way, my friend. I shall see to my Knights and giving this adopted world that has earned your trust a helping hand."
When Drizzt had gone the Lady considered the garden below for a long moment and then made her way into her bedchamber. In one corner of the room, a top a marble pedestal stood a silver bowl containing shimmering water. Alustriel moved to the bowl and dipped a finger lightly in the water, uttering a soft incantation. The image of a woman, silver haired like herself appeared, and the Lady of Silverymoon smiled in greeting.
"Laeral, my sister, I have a message I need passed on to a mutual acquaintance."
Laeral of Waterdeep inclined her head slightly.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
There was a wild and savage beauty to the lands between Silverymoon and the mountains in which Mithril Hall lay. Through the long night, atop the enchanted steed Drizzt crossed the mountains in mere hours instead of days. Despite the enchanted horseshoes he would need to rest the stallion soon, but Mithril Hall lay in the vale below and the horse could rest in the comfort of a stable.
It was approaching sunrise, the eastern skyline lightening with dawn when Drizzt drew reign and stopped atop the cliff. He looked about him, remembering past battles fought on this ridge guarding the hidden entrance to Mithril Hall and for a moment sadness overwhelmed him. He had seen so many friends die but he still had the memories of them, and one day those memories might not hurt so much. An Elf, he was assured by other Elves, became accustomed to watching the shorter lived races die about them.
"It has been too long, my friends. In my memory you walk here, young and strong and I know it to be only a shadow of the past, but it is how I prefer to remember you." Drizzt patted the horse's neck, looking down the cliff face in the direction of the hidden entrance to the Hall. "I hope Wulgar has not forgotten me."
Dismounting, unwilling to chance the horse damaging his legs or hooves, Drizzt led the animal carefully down the narrow path. He knew the hidden Dwarven sentries would have been watching him for an hour or so. Indeed, in the vale below a familiar, stocky figure emerged from the now open doors.
Stumpet Rakingclaw of Mithril Hall, a Priestess and possibly even High Priestess for all he knew, stood before the doors, her greying beard and hair waving gently in the morning breeze. He knew she was watching him, noting the green cloak and glint of armour, seeking some sign of recognition. As he came down from the cliff face and crossed quickly over the rocky ground he saw her smile widen, and knew she had recognized him. The breeze tugged at his white hair and he ignored it, having eyes only for this so familiar figure from his past.
"Stumpet, how have you been?" He called out.
Stumpet, completely ignoring the dignity of a Priestess of her rank, ran up to Drizzt and wrapped his slender waist in a bear hug. "Drizzt, Drizzt old friend. What has it been, fifteen years?" Her face was pressed into his chest, Drizzt being near a head and a half taller than her diminutive four foot height.
"Closer to twenty years, Stumpet. It is very good to see you again. Tell me, how fares the king of this fine mine? How does Wulgar liking sitting the throne of his father?"
She was older, greyer but still the Stumpet he knew. Dwarves did not age and pass on so quickly as the human species, but he knew one day he would return here and the faces he had known would be gone, their bones interred and cold stone alone would mark their resting place.
Drizzt allowed Stumpet to lead him into the upper levels of Mithril Hall. "His beard started to grow a couple of years after ye left, so now his advisors are not so hard on him. He fares well enough, friend Drizzt."
Stumpet led Drizzt to the first level where beardless Dwarven youths took the stallion, eyeing the tall steed with wide eyes until the old Stable Master drove them to their duties. The old Dwarf nodded briefly to the Ranger before overseeing the stallions care. Stumpet chattered on about the running of the Hall since his departure as she led him down to the lower levels and to the throne room of Mithril Hall.
By the time they entered the throne room Drizzt had been given a fair overview of the events of the past twenty years. Entering they found Garamar Benchcrusher dancing around the throne and her son Wulgar, the King of Mithril Hall watching the restless Battlerager. The King's amusement was evident in the small smile just visible through the healthy growth of a foot long beard.
"Good mornin' tae ye mother. How fares yer day?"
Drizzt resisted the urge to smile, thinking that had he been on Earth he would have named the rolling brogue of the Dwarf as a Scott's accent. When he heard the distinctive brogue at the leaky Cauldron in London, or from a student at Hogwarts, it often brought back memories of younger days.
"T'is shapin' up ter be a fine day indeed, Son. We ha'e a guest. Yer Uncle Do'Urden ha'e come out of hidin'." Stumpet grinned, stepping to one side as Drizzt entered the throne room.
The Drow eyed the antics of the Battlerager for a moment as the young King's eyes widen before turning his attention fully upon the King. Wulgar Battlehammer was tall for a Dwarf, with flame red hair and a foot long fire red beard any Dwarf would be proud to boast of. His craggy face was distinctively marked with brilliant blue eyes and he was as broad across the shoulders as his famous father Bruenor had been. He was clad in Mithril plate mail, his Great Axe, crafted by the best of the Halls Weaponsmiths from mithril, was set to the side of the throne, Dwarven runes marking the broad blade giving warning to enchantment enhanced abilities.
He was a strapping figure, regal and looked every inch of him a King. Drizzt had little doubt his father would have been proud of the young warrior.
Garamar Benchcrusher, however, was anything but regal. Mithril was renowned for its hardy properties, one of which was its ability to withstand time and not rust. The Battlerager's armor was crafted from Mithril but somehow he appeared to have mastered the art of not only denting mithril but also rusting it. As he pranced about the throne his armour screeched and squealed, the brown stains standing out as much as the six inch spikes that made him resemble a particularly nasty porcupine.
His coal black beard hid much of his face and was the only hair visible, the rest of his head being hidden beneath a solid mithril helmet sporting a three foot long spite atop it. His often broken nose was a veritable beak beneath the severely crooked nose-guard of his helmet
"What! That darned Elf shows up after twenty years wi'oot sae much as a message tae say he's still kicking, an' expects me tae welcome him wi' open arms? The no good pointy eared, black skinned spoil sport who din nae let me kill me first Orc till I were twelve!" Wulgar was off his throne and striding toward Drizzt, fire red hair flowing about him like a cloak.
"Welcome to you to, you over sized, underweight, beardless dwarf. A Goblin has more of a gut than you." Drizzt tilted his head, surprised at how tall the Dwarf had grown. Wulgar was almost as tall as he and for a Dwarf that was uncommon.
"Beardless!" Bellowed the King.
"Well, I suppose that rat's tail might be accounted a beard… If one stretched the imagination by a goodly amount."
"Huh! Still a skinny beanpole who can'nae decide if he is comin' or a goin'. Sure an' he should ha'e been called Wind he does sae much blowin' about."
Broad smiles broke out on both faces and Drow and Dwarf embraced, hugging and squeezing until Drizzt felt the stocky Dwarf might damage his back.
"It is good tae ha'e ye back. How long may we ha'e yer company?"
"I am sorry I have not visited in a while, and I have no time now to stay as long as I would like. I have a war to fight, and the first people I thought of who might help was none other than the evilest bunch of fighters on the planet."
Garamar, who had come to an abrupt halt to overhear the exchange of insults, perked up on hearing of a war to be fought. The Dwarf's wide lips split into a huge grin and he began to shiver and shake, setting his armour to screeching fit to shatter glass and began to chant 'fight', ever eager to throw himself into a fray.
"Fight. Fight. Fight! Aye, ma armour needs a goo't oil'in."
The Dwarven King eyed the hooting Battlerager for a long moment and sighed, rolling his eyes to the grinning Drow. "You do realize it will be hours before we can quiet him now."
"He'll quiet down when we talk of the battle to come." Drizzt assured the King.
"Battleragers." Stumpet snorted, making her way to the throne dais and settling herself in the smaller seat placed there. "They ne'er be happy unless they be lubricatin' their armour wi' the blood o' Orcs an' such."
"What ha'e ye got yer'self in tae if ye need clan Battlehammer's aid? We can nay ha'e our great Weapon Master Do'Urden face a fight alone. How many o' me lads d' ye think ye might be a needin'?" Wulgar led Drizzt toward the dais and motioned for a seat to be placed there, intent on discussing the prospect of a good fight.
"It should be a fine fight, Wulgar, son of Bruenor. The Lady of Silverymoon has pledged a number of the Knights of Silver and the mage Merinid, who is the new God of Murder, has allied himself in his human form." At the Dwarf King's uncertain look on mention of the God of Murder Drizzt grinned. "He is far from what you may think the God of Murder should be, my friend. He is a good friend."
"I di'na know if it be sage tae play wi' Gods no of Moradin's kin."
"It does no good to ignore the existence of other Gods either." Stumped glanced at her son. "I'm no thrilled at tae thought o' t' God o' Murder either, but I know t' Elf well enough tae trust him."
Drizzt inclined his head to Stumpet. "I will tell you more of Merinid later. He will be taking the Knights of Silver through a gateway to another world, and I would hope he will also be taking at least fifty of Clan Battlehammer with him. I was hoping you might spare upwards of two hundred warriors in all, the fifty in an advance group and the rest to follow for the main battle."
Wulgar nodded slowly. "I've nae heard o' a fight needin' fightin' anywhere near. Another world, ye say? Now that would be tae broadenin' t' horizons o' a few, me self be in' amongst 'em. Me Generals be sayin' I need combat experience so I'll be comin' wi' tae main group. Ye ha'e no said what we will be a fightin'. Be it Goblins or Giants mayhap?"
Drizzt sighed. This was the hard part and while the King had said he would send his warriors he knew the Dwarves had very set ideas on meddling beyond their own domain. Dwarves were not keen on magic other than that which enhanced weapons and armour and brought them deeper into their underground domain.
"On another world where I have found a place I can call my home, much as I call Mithril Hall home, we would be fighting Drow. I have no doubt the Drow will use Goblins and Kobolds, even perhaps Orcs in a bid to gain power. Born to that world is a Wizard, not as we know magic users, but equally as powerful and dark souled. He is known there as The Dark Lord and he bids to rule that world, and knowing the appetites of such Wizards, it is my fear he might thence seek to claim Faerun. To this end he has enlisted Drow from Menzoberranzan, and thus is a gateway opened between the worlds. Merinid would stop him from threatening the balance upon Faerun, to this end he takes a place in the fight. He or his wife, Aerie, will manage another gate, one through which we may travel between the worlds and stop him on his own world from coming to Faerun."
"A human wizard, I suppose?" The King snorted. "These idiots sniff magic an' it does somethin' tae their brain, I swear. Aye, I'll be in the stoppin' o' t' fool. Ye will ha'e all tae troops ye need an' they be ready tae move inside a ten-day. Just tell me where tae send t' advance guard and leave t' rest tae me."
Wulgar raised his head and glowered down the length of the hall at the watching Dwarves who had come on hearing of the return of the Ranger. "Let's be ha'in' some food and then we be sharin' stories afore Master Do'Urden be off."
Drizzt settled back in his seat and smiled. He could see the shadow of his old friend in the young face of his son. Clan Battlehammer would rise to the challenge and not one of the Dwarves Wulgar chose would balk at the idea of leaving the world that birthed them to fight for another world.
It was close to sunset when Drizzt, with Stumpet at his side left Mithril Hall's deep ways and emerged into the cool mountain air. He held the reigns of the well rested stallion which nosed him, seemingly eager to be off.
"I'll be coming wi' t' main forces tae this new world of yer's, Drizzt. Some o' my better trained clerics will be wi' me. Now ye take care. Yer horse ha'e been fed food we magiced just a mite. He should nae need feeding fer a few days. Are ye goin' tae be visiting the site?"
"I was planning on visiting." He turned and embraced the cleric before swinging into the saddle and looking down at her. "Is there anything on the trail I need to be concerned with?"
"There be a mangy group o' Bugbears movin' in tae the area. They no ha'e breached tae doors an' I doubt they will, but I keep the place under me eye."
Stumpet could see Drizzt was far from pleased at the idea of the creatures moving so close to a site of such importance to him. She did not doubt should they cross paths with the Ranger they would not be long for this world.
"I'll take care of it should I meet them. Make sure that son of yours gets those troops moving. I'll need some Dwarven muscle before this ends." Drizzt smiled down at the Dwarf and inclined his head. "He is a fine King, Stumpet Rakingclaw. He does you and Bruenor proud."
For a long time Stumpet stood at the doors to the hall, watching after the Drow though she lost sight of him once the stallion crested the ridge. A sad smile curved her lips, the memories of bygone days filled her. It was not until her son's strong arms encircled her and led her inside that she cast off the shadow of what once was.
"Come on, ma. Ye got tae bless the campaign with yer best Holy Water or the Generals will be doin' nought but complain."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Drizzt had ridden fast after leaving the valley that had come to be known as Battle Ridge following the great battle many years before. It had been a vicious battle fought between the Dwarves of Mithril Hall and the Orc horde that had sought control of the Spine of the World Mountains. Here the ground was littered with the bleaching bones of hundreds of Orcs and Drizzt could almost see and smell the battle. He had been a part of it, as had his friends. It was nothing more than history to the new generations, but something more to him and the few who survived the fight who still lived and breathed.
Free of the valley he pushed Thunder faster, wary still of the terrain, but intent on a purpose. He was on a tight schedule, but there was a place he was determined to visit before he returned to Earth. This would be his only opportunity while on Faerun.
A campfires glow alerted him to the presence of others and caused him to alter his course a little, bringing himself to the high point of a ridge overlooking a valley he would have ridden through. Tethering the stallion with a pat and low word, he blended with the terrain and made his way down the ridge to check out the encampment. It well might be a group of human trader's intent on reaching one of the outlying towns, or even Mithril Hall itself.
He was assured, by the growling and rude behaviour going on in the camp, that it was no human group. Circling carefully he placed the few sentries and sought a head count of how many Bugbears he might be dealing with. He had no doubt this was the group Stumpet had been keeping an eye on, and the thought they would eventually disturb the gravesite sparked his temper.
He had little difficulty marking the Chieftain of the group. Generally the largest and most vicious individual ruled the packs, and this was no exception to the rule. He stood close to seven feet tall and his hide was a lighter yellow than his fellows, the thick coarse hair visible where he did not wear armour was a light brown. Wedge-shaped ears flickered back and forth as he listened to the arguing of his troop and his small eyes, an uncommon shade of green in the firelight, were narrowed.
Drizzt listened, knowing the goblinoid languages of the region, as the band made their excuses for failing to enter the tomb under the hill. He sighed softly, knowing he could not leave them free to desecrate that tomb above all others. One day it would happen, but while he was alive and near such desecration would never take place. His friends deserved to rest in peace and he was here to stop the Bugbears on this occasion.
Drizzt listened to the snarling guttural voices and the Chieftains deep voiced growl. He wanted to add to his treasures, and the tomb at the crest of the hill was sure to be a source of gold he would not leave untouched.
"Not this tomb, you over sized dogs." He breathed, blending with the deep shadows of the night, making for the nearest of the sentries he had marked.
He was silent and invisible in the night, making good use of his superior night vision and the years of training that had given him a reputation, even amidst the best Rangers the realms had produced. He was Drow and the darkness of the night was nothing compared to the utter dark of the Underdark that had birthed him. Silent as only Drow could be, he moved through the night, feeling no remorse for the creatures that fell to his silent blades. He had known Bugbears enough to know to strike quickly and silently.
Patient he waited, watching and listening to the main group, well aware he was outnumbered but confident in his skills. He smiled as the Chieftain singled out a change of sentry and dispatched the group. Fading back away from the camp he felt in his pouch and drew out the small statue and placed it on the ground before him.
"Guenhwyvar, my friend. It is time to hunt." He whispered.
The Bugbear walked around growling under his breath about overzealous leaders and sentries who hid themselves so well even their replacement could not find them easily. Clearly they were safe enough in the forest with such well hidden watchers. He knew the sentry was supposed to be around here somewhere and… ah, a rustle of a bush gave away the location and he congratulated himself on finding the spot.
His growled comment to return to camp was cut off when 600 pounds of black panther leaped up from the undergrowth and her jaws locked about his neck, strangling his cry before he could voice it. Her weight bore the Bugbear to the ground and with a mid air twist there was a crack, marking the breaking of the creature's neck.
Guenhwyvar raised her head from the Bugbears throat and looked around, ears twitching as she listened for any sign her kill had been marked. The Bugbear camp gave no indication the creatures were alarmed and she slipped back into the undergrowth, intent on taking down a second sentry before the bodies of the original sentries might be found.
Drizzt met Guenhwyvar as the cat took down the last of the sentries, reaching to stroke her midnight fur gently. He had not expected to be able to take out all of the sentries so successfully, but it seemed some God of Faerun was smiling on them this night. There were only fifteen of the warriors remaining, and he was confident in his ability, and those of the cat, to handle such a number.
As he approached the camp he heard the Chieftain growl an alert to his warriors. The creature had marked the failure of his warriors to return to camp, and in the sudden activity Drizzt silently entered the camp and worked himself up onto one of the crude animal hide huts. The smell of cooking meat told him this must be the kitchen, and as he crouched on the roof a massively fat Bugbear waddled out of the hut, a rusted cauldron in one hand.
The creature wore a smeared and burned hide apron and held a huge ladle in the other hand. It set the cauldron on the ground at his feet and large ears flicked back and forth, testing the sounds on the night breeze blowing directly into his face. He growled softly, deep in his throat before opening his jaws to summon the group to eat, when a silent shadow landed behind him. In a flash of blue starlight and new snow the cook lay dead over the pot he had, moments before, put on the ground.
A growl, deep and furious told Drizzt the kill had been witnessed, and he looked up to grin defiantly at the three Bugbears coming toward him. Intent on finishing this as quickly as possible Drizzt charged, even as their growls alerted the others to the intruder in their midst.
The first Bugbear, jaws gaping, mace swinging high, barely had time to register the glowing light was a narrow blade before it had laid open his chest. Twinkle and Icingdeath wove skillfully together, nicking and cutting, the tip of Twinkle opening the creatures jugular and Drizzt was away, closing in on the second onrushing Bugbear.
By this time the alarm had the camp alert to the intruder and the Chieftain was bellowing at his men, huge hand wielding a massive two-handed sword, pointing the weapon at the slender figure darting forward over the bodies of their kin.
"What you waiting for? Kill this bug!" The leader bellowed, unconcerned with the identity of the intruder. His warriors seemed to freeze at the realization they faced a Drow, and the wicked grin on Drizzt's face set them back. "Kill the bug!"
His opponents wore leather armour that had seen better days and each wielded a Morningstar mace. Some were reaching for shields, while others grasped their maces in double handed grips and answered Drizzt's charge with one of their own. The Chieftain of the group was clad in better quality studded leather and looked to be fairly adept at wielding his massive sword.
Not willing to give the creature's time to organize against him Drizzt danced forward, Twinkle leading. Leaping to the top of a boulder one of the creatures had been using as a chair, and then leaping off and into the face of the nearest Bugbear, something of a manic grin twisted the Drow's face. Twinkle nipped and poked and Icingdeath slashed, opening a wide slit in the creature's throat before Drizzt came down to the ground and spun away from a wildly swinging mace.
In a move that would leave a ballet dancer blushing in shame, Drizzt spun on one leg, kicking at the ankle of the nearest creature and hearing the snap of breaking bone. As the roaring brute stumbled to one knee, Twinkle found a gap in the armour under a flailing arm and pierced flesh, sliding between rib bones to pierce the humanoid's heart.
Looking up from his latest kill, Drizzt's eyes glowed violet in the low campfire light. Dancing shadows lent him an eerie, otherworldly air and he smiled.
"Do attack." He purred.
A shield baring Bugbear rushed forward, mace coming in from the side and the much smaller Drow ducked under the wild swing, danced out of range and spun around, coming in behind the creature and running up its back. His scimitars whirled and slashed, nicking and cutting all the while. The roaring brute bellowed with pain before falling ominously silent, Icingdeath spraying blood as Drizzt leaped from his perch on the creatures back, slitting his neck open.
For a timeless moment the Bugbears stared at the latest of their number to fall to the whirling blades of the Drow. Rage and anger now were turning to fear and it was a reaction Drizzt knew well as he abandoned his kill and leapt toward battle. From somewhere in the back of the crush a Bugbear screamed, a blood curdling sound that heralded death, and for Drizzt it marked the presence of the silent panther.
He was well accustomed to the techniques of his boon companion, and he was only too happy to keep the Bugbears attention whist Guen picked her prey and struck silently and efficiently. In the darkness it seemed to the Bugbears that the night itself was intent on killing them.
The Chieftain roared as he watched Drizzt cut down another of his warriors, a whirling, cutting dervish of killing finesse, and somewhere amongst his milling minions another screamed as unseen death struck.
"It be but one bug! Squash it already!" He swung his two-handed sword in a mighty blow, intending to cleave the lavender eyed Drow warrior in two.
Drizzt had not for an instant forgotten the huge warrior, and had been keeping aware of his position, even as he fought the lesser creatures. As the great sword descended he faded from beneath its path, leaving his unfortunate opponent directly in the line of the strike. The Bugbear screamed as the sword bit deep into it's shoulder and curved around, deflected by the dense bone to near decapitate it's victim.
Wincing at the gruesome display Drizzt sped on, catching a glimpse of the panther as she leapt from a tree onto the back of a Bugbear. The creature screamed and threw himself to the ground, rolling and trying to free himself of the clawing and biting demon that had materialized from the night. Unconcerned for the cat, knowing her skill in hunting such creatures, he danced his way through the group, cutting and wounding as he went, taking a killing blow if the opportunity presented.
Drizzt rolled with the swing of a mace, taking only a glancing blow of what might have broken his shoulder had it connected cleanly. His key to surviving the fight was to keep moving, being smaller and lighter, and far faster, than his prey. He had long ago learned to keep moving, to wound, to annoy and take the killing blow when the opportunity presented itself. It was always best to strike to kill quickly, rather than have wounded half dead creatures muddling the battlefield. Where his people enjoyed playing with their prey, he opted to kill quickly and neatly, not allowing even these sorry creatures to suffer unnecessary pain.
The Chieftain roared as his sword killed one of his own, but it was a lesser being and a fool of a creature to get in his way. Unconcerned with the hapless subordinate he swung again, a huge sweep of the sword that had his own tribe back peddling fast to escape damage.
"What are you waiting for? I haven't even worked up a sweat yet." Drizzt taunted the remaining warriors.
The leader snarled and charged, lumbering to a clumsy stop as one of his warriors roared and went down in a tangle of limbs and black fur. In plain sight the panther clung to the creatures back, her claws raking down the hapless Bugbears back, stripping the flesh from his bones and sinking her fangs into his neck. The Bugbear gurgled and jerked and Drizzt glimpsed the spine of the creature as Guenhwyvar raised her head and roared, drawing all eyes to her. Without thinking the warriors stared at their comrade's death and the great cat whose searing golden eyes promised death, and Drizzt took the opportunity to mow his way through them, nicking, cutting and piercing as he went.
Pandemonium ensued, even the Chieftain taking a step back. The few remaining warriors scattered, the more seriously wonded stumbling and Drizzt knew it would not take Guen long to hunt them down and finish them. The Chieftain's bellow went ignored as the Bugbears fled, intent on escaping to the dark caves that were their home, leaving their Chieftain to the Drow fighter and the great black cat.
"I'm not afraid of you bug." The two-handed sword cleaved the air between Drow and Bugbear and the creatures green eyes glinted in the firelight. "You will die and the devil cat with you."
"I think not." The Drow stepped lightly away from the sweep of the sword even as Guen leapt off in pursuit of the fleeing monsters.
Slash and sweep, there seemed very little of technique in the creatures fighting style and Drizt was patient, testing the defence and seeing just how much range and movement the Bugbear commanded. From away in the night a Bugbear screamed his death cry and Drizzt grinned at the momentary panic in the green eyes. Chieftain he might have been but he was not immune to fear, and when a second fleeing Bugbear screamed Drizzt took his chance.
He came in under the sweep of the great sword, nimble feet dancing and carrying him forward, Icingdeath and Twinkle perfectly complimenting each other. Nicking at the creatures arms, opening one hairy wrist and the Chieftain bellowed, unable to command the great sword with his hand bloodied. His grip on the pommel slipped, the sword dipped and Drizzt stepped to the side, grasped the weakening hand and used the massively muscled arm to pull himself up the side of the monster, Twinkle slashing neatly and precisely to open the creature's throat.
Lavender eyes met green in a stare that even now brooked no quarter. The Bugbear stumbled to its knees; blood soaking the front of its armour. Drizzt watched as the beast wavered, coughed blood and fell forward, nerveless fingers dropping the sword.
Distantly Drizzt caught a scream which, he thought, might be one of the fleeing Bugbears. It might also have been some other creature which had met its end this night, as was the way of the wild lands. Death was common place here, the rules of survival on a very primal level. Confident the panther would rejoin him the Drow exited the camp, climbed back up the ridge and found the stallion where he had tethered him.
Listening to the night he could detect no sound that might suggest danger and with a pat to the glossy neck he led the stallion down the ridge and along the valley, seeking the hill at its end and the door crafted by the Dwarves that marked the entrance to the tomb.
The symbol of Clan Battlehammer, a foaming tankard was set above the insignia of his own Drow house, the stylized eight legged spider, each leg holding a different weapon commonly used by the Drow. Above the Do'Urden symbol lay the Elk, sign of the Barbarian clan Wulfgar, Drizzt's brother in arms, had been born into. Icewind Dale, like the Underdark and Menzoberranzan, was a long way in the past but always a part of the human and Drow warriors.
Drizzt lightly ran a finger over the foaming mug standard, remembering fondly the old shield Bruenor had wielded, embossed with the design and the one horned helmet he had favoured. He touched his hand to the Elk, recalling the first time he had met the brash barbarian youth, captive to Bruenor after a failed barbarian raid on Ten Towns of Icewind Dale. Such times they had had, so long in the past.
Carved into the door and so exquisitely coloured it might well have been the real ruby wielded by the Halfling who had been a part of their group was the symbol they had chosen for Regis. Rumblebelly, Bruenor had called him, his real name being Regis. The ruby gem had had the wondrous enchantment of persuasion, a powerful charm, cast upon it.
Above the four symbols was the carving of a longbow crossed over the blade of a long sword, a Rose set in the centre. Above this symbol which, perhaps, hurt the most to see, was carved the symbol of the Gods each of them had followed.
Mielikki's golden horned, blue eyed unicorn head was set to the left. She was the Lady of Forests, patron of Rangers and dear to his own heart. Moradin's Symbol was carved in the centre, a Hammer over an anvil, patron God of Bruenor's bloodline. Set to the right of Moradin's sign was the blazing sword on a blood red shield, the sign of Tempus whom Wulfgar always called out to in the heat of battle, to guide and strengthen his arm.
"I've come to visit, my friends."
A small sound drew his head around and he nodded briefly to the cat, who sat upon her haunches and settled down to wait. He reached to caress the panther's head and assured she had taken no serious injury from the fight, Drizzt tethered the stallion a short distance from the tomb and returned to touch the door.
It was enchanted, of course. Few alive could enter this place freely, he being one of them. The door rolled aside, the magic cast into the very stone recognizing him and opening the way, leaving him free to enter the tomb of the Companions of the Hall.
Ever-burning torches offered light, springing into dancing flame as he stepped through the door. A flight of steps was carved into the rock itself by skilled Dwarven hands and Drizzt descended, one hand lightly tracing the wall as he walked, until he came off the steps and faced a solid block of mithril. Only Dwarves would consider using such a priceless metal to guard the dead, but the Dwarves had loved Bruenor and those he had called his children. Only Mithril, he knew, would have been fitting for the gruff old Dwarf who had adopted a human girl child and a Barbarian youth, turning both into fine adults. Only Bruenor could have accepted a renegade Drow Elf and freely called him friend.
Drizzt reached out and grasped the handle, feeling the faintest tingle as the magic sought him out, accepted him and subsided. Turning the mithril handle Drizzt opened the outer volt and walked through.
The chamber had been carved out of the rock by the industrious Dwarves and the statues lining the walls were detailed as only Dwarves could work stone. There was barely a tool mark to show the hand carving of the walls and after viewing the statues, if one chanced to meet the flesh and blood person, one would not have had a problem recognizing them. Yet no one would be meeting these people in this life.
Closest to the door was the largest of the statues. It was life-sized, as were all of the statues and the man was huge, near seven feet tall. Shoulder length hair flowed over wolf skin armour, each hair of the man's head precisely carved. The wolf skin draped over his shoulder might have been real so perfectly was it depicted. Resting in his hands was a stone version of his favourite weapon, the weapon his Dwarven foster father had crafted and enchanted for him, even the runes precisely drawn that dedicated it to the Dwarven Gods whose power had been called upon in its making. The carved face was hard, determined yet had a softness to it that was entirely human.
"Wulfgar, my brother-in-arms. We have some tales to tell each other in the feast hall of Tempus. Keep a seat ready for me, my friend." Drizzt sighed softly, staring at the statue for a long moment before moving to the next statue down, on the opposite wall.
This one was a Dwarf, his plate mail armour exquisitely detailed, almost reflecting the torch light as metal armour would have. In one hand was a battle axe, its haft marked with many notches while in the other rested a large circular shield emblazoned with the Battlehammer foaming mug standard. A helmet with a curved horn, the mate on the opposite side broken and the sight of that one horned helmet almost broke Drizzt's heart. His flowing beard, wild and long, almost red in the flickering light looked real enough to tempt him to reach out a pull a lock. How Bruenor would bellow if he had dared.
"I miss the nights when the others had gone to bed and left us to talk late into the night about the battles we had fought. I even miss the nights of drinking, my old friend. I miss your complaints about Rumblebelly and I miss your growls and honesty. Have a cold one waiting for me, for I shall have a story the likes of which you would not believe. Sure'n you will call me a darned liar more than once as I tell it. The world is not a better place for your passing, Bruenor Battlehammer."
Drizzt chose not to move back across the chamber to the two statues set close together but to move instead to the small statue that so ably depicted the Halfling. No armour for this one. Regis had not been one to restrict his movement with the weight or stiffness of armour. Well cut clothing and around his neck a pendant baring a gem. His feet were unshod, large and haired, the sign it was no human child captured in stone, but a Halfling with a mace at his belt. It had rarely been used, that mace, Regis being one for stealth and finesse rather than brute strength. He had exercised his wiles to the benefit of the companions on so many occasions, and often to Bruenor's annoyance. Regis had dabbled successfully in politics with the aid of the enchanted Ruby, and the Halfling and the Dwarf had a unique relationship neither acknowledged publicly.
"Regis, you old thief. Mayhap the God's are yelling at you for stealing one of their jewels or talking non stop. Are you taking away their lady's or interfering in their politics; perhaps stealing the food from their tables? Don't get in too much trouble for I am not there to save you, though perhaps the one who calls you Rumblebelly is growling at your heels, keeping you honest."
For a moment he rested a hand lightly on the Halfling's head, delaying the moment when he must turn and face the woman across the way.
She was tall, though not a great deal taller than Drizzt and her hair was cut to flow around her shoulders in soft clouds of curls. For a moment it was not the cold statue standing there but the real life flesh and blood woman he had loved, who had dared to love a Drow in all honesty.
Her chain shirt might have been a second skin, it fitted her so well, the real one crafted by her foster fathers skilled hands. Hanging from her belt was a long sword, its hilt shaped skillfully into the semblance of a panther almost exactly like Guen when stretched out into a leap. She was depicted wearing a cloak but the ever present bow and quiver of arrows was present, Taulmaril, the enchanted bow she had found in the ruins of Mithril Hall the first day they had found it.
The one who had crafted the statue had captured something of her beauty and also her soul. If you looked into her eyes you might imagine her looking back at you, seeing past your defences and into the depths of your being. She had always been good at looking into others and discerning their true intent.
"Catti-brie. My first love."
The very human Cattie-brie, daughter of humans killed in a raid in the distant lands surrounding Ten Towns. Taken in and reared by the surly, gruff old Dwarf who had been king of a lost hall of great riches. Long gone days, but good days.
"I miss you above all the others. Your fire red hair, you're caring blue eyes that always saw so much others would seek to hide from you. You always saw to the truth behind the words, and you always knew just what to say. You were the rose, Cattie-brie. You were our heart, the centre of our group. You kept us going even if all hope seemed lost. I don't think any of the others would argue with me over that."
Drizzt paused, his feet bringing him close to the statue, within easy touching distance, though he did not reach out to touch. It would be cold stone, not the warm flesh he had known so well.
"I have found another to love, as you told me I must, Cat. I believe you would approve of her. She knows what you meant to me and that I will forever love you. We will have our first child soon and she bosses me about as you used to do."
He could almost imagine, in the flickering light, that the statue smiled. Almost. She would have though, he was sure of that. No one could understand just how much of his soul had been held in that one human woman's delicate, competent hands.
"I hope you understand, my Cattie-brie. Remember you will always be the first women to enter my heart. You wanted me to live on, to find love again and I have done so, to my eternal surprise. But you will always be my love."
Drizzt turned, hating to turn his back on the statue but it was only a statue, no flesh and blood woman to tell him not to be such a maudlin fool. The final statue of the group was one he did not like looking upon as it depicted himself. His armour and weapons were exact replicas and the sculpture had even captured something of his lightness and a suggestion of his speed, but he still did not feel easy seeing himself here.
It made him feel like a ghost.
He could hear Bruenor snort and Regis laugh, and the bellow of Wulfgar roaring in amusement. And almost feel the gentle caress of the woman who alone of the companions would have understood. Smiling Drizzt headed to the doors at the end of the chamber and entered the tomb of his friends.
There were no burning torches here but that did not bother Drizzt, who let his eyes adjust into the spectrum he had used for so many years before he had seen the light of the sun.
Each stone sarcophagus was individually marked by the items resting on the lids. The first was the largest coffin in the room and the wonderful war hammer, Aegis-fang and Wulfgar's wolf hide and armour rested upon the stone.
The second was the smallest, the size of a human child's and marked the resting place of the Halfling. His mace and chain shirt rested here with the enchanted ruby lying amidst the folds of the chain shirt.
Next was the sarcophagus of the old King of Mithril Hall, his coffin marked by the suit of Dwarven platemail and the well used battle axe with its well notched haft. Brueonor's round shield with the foaming mug lay there too, and resting on it was the one horned helmet.
Furthest from the door he found her resting place, the long slender sarcophagus marked with her chain shirt. Resting over the shirt was the enchanted Taulmaril, the longbow and its companion quiver of silver arrows. There too, rested the sword with the panther shaped hilt. Her sword.
Pausing beside the coffin Drizzt looked at the long sword and finally reached out, his hand steady and grip firm as he set his hand to the hilt.
"Hello, Cutter." Drizzt spoke quietly and watched as the hilt seemed to blur and the panther changed before his eyes, becoming a Unicorn's head and horn.
/ What! Am I supposed to thank you? You have left me here for close to thirty years and now you come and pick me up. I suppose you are going to leave me here for another thirty if not longer? When will you appreciate me? When will you accept I should be wielded by you/
He almost sighed. It seemed the sword would never change. Intelligent weapons were a rarity, even in the Realms, and none of the weapons came without a cost. Each had their own strong will and did not appreciate being cast aside and told they were inadequate to meet the need of the one they desired to be their wielder.
"Must I carry out my promise? Must I remind you of what I promised I would do to you if you ever tried to take control of Catti-brie again?" Drizzt scowled at the sword, but he was smiling too and it was not a pretty smile.
He had threatened the sword with dire consequences, promising what he would do to it if it ever threatened Cattie-brie again, and brought her into a situation where she might die.
/ She is dead. What purpose do I serve locked within this dark tomb? There are others out there who could use me in battle and I am locked away in a damn vault of a tomb with my old mistress. I was made to fight, to be wielded by the best, and you condemn me to this fate. You may as well have broken me and had me melted down, at least the silence of eternity would be better than the chill of this tomb./
Drizzt considered the weapon for a long moment before sliding it back into the sheath and resting it once more on Catti-brie's coffin.
"The world is a better place for your absence, Cutter. Perhaps one day you will again see the light of day and taste the blood of another… but not now. I think you have more thinking on your past to do before that day comes."
The howl of the sword faded as he removed his hand and Drizzt moved past the coffin, looking to the empty sarcophagus beyond it. His own coffin, waiting patiently for him. His body might never lie here. The fates of battle would dictate where he rested for eternity but he could hope he would find his way here, to rest beside she who had loved him as he loved her.
Drizzt sighed and walked to the door, turning to gaze over his friends.
"Farewell, my friends. Rest well."
The doors of the tomb closed behind him, the torches snuffed themselves out and the outer door sealed with a thud of finality. Drizzt took a moment to return the panther to her astral home and mounted Thunder. Even with the enchanted shoes it would be a ten day ride to Waterdeep.