So, from what have I truly made my escape? I hear those words from something half remembered. I wanted no part of intrigue, machinations, or treachery. Was I a fool for thinking I could escape it?
Warding, fostering, or whatever nice words that humans like to use for hostage taking, has never worked either on the surface or the Underdark. It brings to mind the old history between my own birthplace and Ched Nasad. All of these attempted wardings ended in disaster;most especially for the fosterling.
Wulfgar's granddaughter, Erica being tendered like a piece of horseflesh for peace. My daughter and the other children being used as collateral. The surface world has not changed so much since Wulfgar was warded to Bruenor. One difference, Icewind Dale was not the aggressor as was Wulfgar's tribe.
The Ten Towns have new garrisons for protection. This doesn't come free either. Then there are the advisors of Alaric and other mayors. This all to aid in consolidation so we are told.
There are the titles. Humans, especially from the humblest origins, love them. They hanker after them like a Dwarf for gold or a Drow for magic trinkets. In my early years on the surface one of the Harpells had learned that I was a Page Boy Prince of the 9th House ; I still feel contempt at how their eyes shown with wonder. These were adults. They didn't realize that I was trying to demonstrate the absurdity of titles.
As for this new title? I don't give a...
The dark elf angrily crumpled the parchment. He could pitch it in a blazing hearth. It wasn't a magicked. His latest writing would no longer exist; just like that. No. Drizzt smoothed the wrinkled paper and put it in his deceptively thin looking folio. He hastily scrawled at the bottom.
Was this any better or worse than what he'd written before? Sometimes when reading his past entries he cringed at his naivete and complaints. At the same time he was heartbroken that it was gone. He didn't want this idealism taken away from his daughters. Not now. Not ever. This was not a good day. His injured left arm still burned from the liquid fire that was inflicted on him in that lifetime of a tenday ago.
He remembered the young female Half Elven Novice Cleric; Cella. It was after the battle.
"You're Drizzt Do'Urden?", she asked with wide eyes.
Well, she didn't say Drizzit. He nodded.
"Uh...you're short."
"And I'm hurt." She really had to get to work on that arm of his he thought with exasperation.
He couldn't stay irritated she was young and good hearted. Like many born after the Spell Plague, she had a picture in her mind that everyone that lived before it was a demigod. Life was utopian and an endless epic adventure. So, they thought. The reality, like today's, was grubbier and less cut and dried.
He'd always put in every entry as it stood. Today's missive would be no exception. He tied the folio with the leather strip and put it up on the shelf. Who is this for? My daughters will be dead before myself, if, granted a natural span of years. It always came back to living his life in segments. It was the least worst approach. Love and friendship were precious and rare commodities. Drizzt was not about to forgo those joys with a person because of their brief lifetime. With that though he had gained acceptance.
Guen had existed for he didn't know how long in time. How must it have been for her to lose previous holders of the figurine to either natural or untimely death? His own lifetime, however its length would be but a breath to Guen. Still she stayed with Drizzt. Somehow, thinking this righted his perspective, for now.
A giggle brought him out of his reverie. Jeyne was trying in vain to grab her rag doll from Guen. She wasn't unhappy about it,though. When Jeyne got to the point of almost grabbing it away; Guen would prance away just keeping it out of reach.
"Stealing dolls from girls?" Drizzt scolded in mock admonishment.
Guen gave him a mock questioning look. And? She then deposited the doll on the divan with great ceremony. Drizzt suddenly realized that Guen must have lived through this before...many times with other children.
This year shall pass; uneventfully I hope.
He looked at the timepiece. This was the time for lessons. In the flurry of recent events; there hadn't been as much time for this as he would have liked. Drizzt also realized it would be back to him teaching sums, differences, multiples and proportions without Alek stopping by once a tenday. He had to give credit to Alek's diligence and patience. The girls and the other children had come far in math during the past year.
History and Lore were better off left to Minette. He had only met her a short while ago. Drizzt already liked her. Minette was fuller figured and had more of the carrot colored hair than the auburn hair. She did have the same manner and exuberance, and after an absence of good music; a treasure trove of songs and stories. Could she be related? On an intuitive level, Drizzt was almost certain of it. He couldn't prove it because, Ten Towns had only started to keep records.
"Time for the books and then evenmeal, Jeyne."
"Okay, Daddy." she happily said. An image popped into Drizzt's mind of Jeyne saying, "Okay Grandma!" to his own mother. He felt a chill even though the Matron Mother was long dead. It will be different.
It was then that he heard hoofbeats in the distance. Drizzt felt some relief that it wasn't the frantic galloping of many horses being worked into a lather. It was only one or two at a normal pace. Caution was still called for as the Do'Urdens had been expecting no one.
"Jeyne, upstairs! Guen to me!" He wouldn't have time to put on armor, but, he did have time to get his weapons. Guen slipped gracefully beside him. She didn't seem worried. A good sign. Nevertheless, his alter ego was in the background and ready.
Jeyne knew better than to question or gainsay her father at this time. She went silently upstairs with a Drow's quickness.
Drizzt stepped outside. The two horses were approaching. He heard familiar voices. Some of the tension flowed out. It was the Merchant/Councilor Wat Olsin accompanied by Owain Perris, younger son of Tomm Perris.
"Saer Drizzt Do'Urden!" Owain saluted with the wrong hand. Owain hastily saluted with the other hand. Ten Towns had never had much to do with protocol. He would learn because Owain was to be Drizzt's squire.
Wat Olsin shifted nervously in his saddle and dismounted from his horse. "Sorry to bother you Saer Do'Urden." He handed Drizzt a scroll sealed with the red background and gold lion wax sigil of King Valder.
Saer Do'Urden..Drizzt almost but, not quite, looked over his shoulder seeing to whom Wat was addressing this salutation. I'll never get used to this. He gave a nod to both Owain and Wat. He broke the seal and read the contents.
He was expecting this. Drizzt knew that he probably would not be the Senior Ranger as he had in the past. In even the most benevolent conquests any surviving persons of prominence were usually demoted down a step. Alaric Beornegar was a Lord but, still had an Royal Advisor for "consultation".
So it would be for Drizzt. He, Greshk, and Tomm were to meet with the Ranger of Command, Lady Dahlia of Neverwinter.
Now, I've always had this idea of a lady Ranger coming into the picture. After reading Gauntlgrym I found the lady for the role. Please, continue to read and review.