Note: This story is not canon, but it takes place roughly about ten years before the events of the Hobbit and at the end of the book "Exile" in the Dark Elf trilogy. Also, there will be OCs joining later in the story. Pairings will eventually be Legolas/OC, Drizzt/OC, Fili/OC, and Kili/OC

"We had to flee to the ends of the Earth, my son," Drizzt didn't doubt Zaknafein's words, but neither of them understood where it was that they had fled to. Neither of them suspected that they might be in another land altogether and that Faerun itself may be far behind them.

All around them was the thick scent of decay and rot as they took in their surroundings. They had come up through the Underdark and found themselves in the middle of a thick, dense forest. So thick, it blocked out the light of the sun making it much easier for drow eyes to adjust to the dim light.

After Zaknafein had won his mind back from Malice, expelling her permanently, he and Drizzt both knew they had to run. They knew Malice would pursue them as long as she could. But when their course brought them up, ascending to the surface as few drow had ever done, they both began to reconsider their path. Neither of them knew where they were. Neither of them had even seen a forest.

Yet here they were, on the surface. Between them, only Drizzt had seen the surface, when he had gone on the raid against the surface elves, but his visit was brief and marred by the trauma of the carnage he had witnessed at the hands of his own kind.

"Come," Zaknafein bid and he started walking through the trees. Drizzt obediently followed after him, walking close to his father, though his senses were on high alert in this strange world.

Drizzt wondered what sorts of creatures could inhabit a place like this. Would he encounter elves? He had been fascinated by his surface cousins ever since the raid. When he got to see them, carefree and enchanting, their song to the moon above was mesmerizing. Their voices still echoed in his head even though it had been well over ten years since that fateful day.

Now, here he was again, on the surface. This time, with his father. They were together again, united though Malice's evil magic had been responsible for raising Zaknafein from death. Her purpose had been to send him after Drizzt, to kill him. But Zaknafein proved stronger and won his mind back. Now he was free, they were both free.

"The air is thick," Drizzt commented as he inhaled the humid air of the dense forest. The stench of decay permeated and it felt like they were breathing soup.

Ahead, Zaknafein stopped moving, his sensitive ears tuning towards the path before them. "I think I hear the rush of water," he said. "This way."

Drizzt followed. He trusted his father's judgment. He had been on his own, living in the wilderness of the Underdark for ten years. But now, he could rely on the much older drow he knew would never betray him.

Drizzt was young, in his 40s, which for an elf, was still a juvenile in mind. But his childhood and youth had been robbed long ago by the evilness of the society in which he grew up. And then, by the need to survive in the underdark.

Sure enough, as they walked, they came upon a river, its banks flowing lazily with water. The waters were dark and murky, thick with sediment. Curious, Drizzt knelt and reached to put a finger in the water, but Zaknafein's hand clamping on his shoulder stopped him.

"I do not trust this place," Zaknfein explained, standing over him as he surveyed the trees wearily. "Don't drink it."

Drizzt glanced at the water again, hesitantly. He was thirsty. The thick humid air sapped the moisture from his body. But he listened to Zaknafein and stood up, just as a rustling sound caught both of their attention.

Drizzt turned towards the sound, sensitive eyes and ears tuned to catch any movement. As both drow watched, a large white stag emerged from the forest across the river. The massive beast seemed to stare at the two drow.

"I have never seen such a beast," Drizzt murmured as they both stood, watching. The stag seemed to watch right back, its piercing stare felt as though it could penetrate into Drizzt's very soul.

But just as it had appeared, with a single flinch from Drizzt, the stag turned and bolted back the way it came, disappearing into the trees behind it. Drizzt felt disappointed. The beast was majestic and beautiful. It reminded him of another majestic beast, and instinctively, Drizzt put a hand into his pocket to grip the panther statue inside. Guenhwyvar, his friend and companion through these long hard years.

"Drizzt," Zaknafein hissed urgently and Drizzt turned to see his father's gaze fixed on the trees behind them, his hand gripping the hilt of his scimitar.

Drizzt barely had time to react when suddenly, agile bodies erupted from the trees, dropping to surround them. Elves.

Instinctively, Drizzt backed up against Zaknafein, his hands moving to his scimitars as elves dropped from the trees and more than a dozen moved to surround the drow. But before he could even draw his weapons, he swallowed as a blade shot forward, knocking his hand hard, then moved menacingly towards his throat. He quickly held his hands up in surrender.

The elf holding the blade was slender and fair skinned, his white blonde hair pulled back tightly behind him and brilliant blue eyes looking over his captive.

"Don't try to draw your weapon," he warned. "You will be dead." Drizzt resigned not to anyway. He swallowed hard as he struggled to keep the hunter within him at bay. He was terrified. Not for his life, but of the hunter within him. Memories came rushing at him. Memories of the elves his kind had slain. Ever since that day, he longed to meet another elf, and now that one was standing before him with a blade to his throat, his alter ego, the hunter, threatened to surface.

The hunter had developed during his life in Menzoberranzan and had been a constant companion during his loneliness and isolation in the Underdark. It was a primal, bestial, instinctive state of mind that at that moment was fighting for control.

As the elf circled the two drow, keeping his weapon trained on them, he couldn't know the internal struggle that Drizzt was enduring at that moment. Beads of sweat trickled down the drow's face as he forced his eyes down to the ground, his body trembling slightly. He felt embarrassed as he felt the heat of Zaknafein's body against his back, he feared his father seeing this part of him.

"You do not belong to this forest," the elf's melodic voice cut through the hunter, only slightly, but enough to allow Drizzt to push it back. Drizzt focused on that voice. "This is our realm and you are trespassers."

Drizzt opened his mouth to speak, to insist that they meant no harm. But Zaknafein spoke first.

"Then perhaps your forest should be better marked," he barked out sarcastically. "Or perhaps I should have recognized the stench."

Drizzt winced at Zaknafein's insults. He mentally apologized for his father's open hatred of his surface kin. Drizzt realized that this was likely the first time Zaknafein had ever encountered elves and like all drow, he had been indoctrinated to hate them. Zaknafein knew the truth about drow society, but he had no way of knowing anything about the elves.

"Your ears seem as pointed as mine, Stranger," the elf pointed out. He ignored Zaknafein's comment and chose to focus on Drizzt. "Though I have never seen an elf-like you. What exactly are you?"

Drizzt raised a brow curiously. Had these elves never heard of the drow? He found that hard to believe. There were few people in the realms who did not fear the drow.

"Have you never heard of drow elves?" he voiced his surprise. The elf eyed him curiously. Drizzt met his eyes stoically, feeling equally curious about him. He seemed young, probably Drizzt's age, though the young drow had no way to know since elves remained youthful in appearance for most of their long lives.

"Your race is not known to me," the elf regarded the drow. Their dark ebony skin, their stark white hair, their slender features, pointed ears. "Yet that doesn't mean the king hasn't encountered your people. What land do you call home?"

"The Underdark," Drizzt responded before Zaknafein did. "From the depth of the Earth. And if your king had encountered the drow before, he certainly would remember. For my people are wicked and all who encounter them learn to fear them."

Drizzt felt Zaknafein's muscles flinch at his son's venomous tone as he spoke of his own race. Drizzt knew Zaknafein felt the same way, but neither of them could escape the physical appearance of their dark elf heritage.

The elf frowned at Drizzt's words, his grip on his sword tightening. "You don't seem particularly vile to me," he pointed out, curiously. "Are you scouts? Spies then?"

"Renegades," Zaknafein replied. "My son and I have forsaken our people and left them in the Underdark where they belong."

"How convenient," the elf scoffed. "You tell me you come from an evil race, then you tell me that you two alone are different. Do you think me a fool?"

Despite his words of suspicion and mistrust, Drizzt sensed an open mind, not malice, within the depth of this elf's blue eyes. Those eyes imparted hope, hope that maybe he had a chance to meet someone who had the same principles as he did. Principals that had given him the courage to flee Menzoberranzan. Principles of honor that he had fought so hard to keep.

This hope gave Drizzt the strength to beat back the hunter and he offered no resistance when the elves all moved to bind his hands behind him.

"I don't know what tricks you are up to," the elf told him. "But I will take you to the king and perhaps he will decide what to do with you."

With that, the elf motioned to his kin, and Drizzt and Zaknafein were hauled away.