Note: I played out this fight scene later in this chapter. My husband, who has been playing DnD forever, and I, who is just a beginner, roleplayed this scene out using the game, so it if seems that Drizzt and Kenshin were performing poorly in the fight with one gnoll, it's because I was rolling really bad and they are only level one (because I wanted to start at the beginning). Also, you can assume the same thing is happening in every fight scene.
Drizzt slowly came back to reality, feeling warm and comfortable. He listened to the soft crackle of a fire burning close to him, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the fire in front of him. He watched the flames dance about, licking the edge of the stone barrier that had been assembled around it.
Drizzt eyed the fire, feeling mesmerized by its light and its warmth. The brightness of the light stung his sensitive eyes, but he refused to turn away. The drow could see the logs and twigs of wood feeding the flames as the aroma filled his nostrils. What was fire? He contemplated the nature of it, as if he was seeing it, seeing its power and its comfort for the very first time.
Drizzt had seen fire before, of course, but it wasn't something he encountered often. In the Underdark, the temperature was always constant and light was unnecessary for beings who possessed infravision. In Menzoberranzan, wizards often used fires burning from torches or candles in their spells. And they needed light to read their spell books as the written word didn't translate well in infravision. During his time studying at the academy, Drizzt was often asked to light candles for his masters and then watched as they manipulated the flame.
But here, on the surface, the fire not only gave off light, but warmth. Its heat warmed his bones and the thick smell of burning wood was pleasant and Drizzt inhaled deeply, wanting nothing more than to lie there and watch the flames until eternity came to pass.
As the rest of his surroundings came into focus, though, he lay against the rear wall of a cave. Beyond the fire pit sat a figure hunched over, working at something, though Drizzt couldn't see what. Beside the figure, a lone sword sat propped up on the wall.
The light of the flames danced off the silhouette of the man as he turned to face Drizzt and the drow saw him more clearly, the red-haired male that he had seen prone in the bushes. He regarded Drizzt for a moment, dipping his head slightly in what the drow could only assume was a greeting.
But the words that he uttered alongside the gesture were completely unfamiliar. He spoke a language Drizzt did not understand. The drow was unfamiliar with the common tongue, much less any other languages that surface dwellers might speak. His gnome friend had taught him the Svirfneblin language, and he was proficient in basic goblin, but that was the extent of his abilities at the moment, and when most of the surface inhabitants regarded him with fear and hate, he didn't think that anyone would teach him common or any other tongue soon.
Until now. Slowly, the drow sat up, waiting for any signs of tension. And the human watched him just as intensely, studying his motion for any sign of hostility. Drizzt glanced briefly at the lone sword propped up against the wall beside the man, within easy reach, though the man made no attempt to reach for it.
Likewise, Drizzt noted that his last remaining scimitar lay nearby. But the drow was determined that this meeting would remain peaceful. He resented the fact he had encountered so much hostility already in his short time on the surface. The townsfolk had chased him, attacked him, and tried to drive him away. He resented the fact that he had been forced to draw his blade against them in defense, and he was determined to not be in that situation again.
But his companion's body posture showed he had no hostile intentions. He was curious and cautious, but relaxed. And he didn't seem threatened by Drizzt.
Drizzt studied the man's appearance. This human wasn't quite the same as the others he had encountered. His clothing, his loose fitting white pants and his deep burgundy tunic (as the drow wouldn't know what a kimono or hakama pants were) didn't resemble that of the farmers and townsfolk in the region, and his language seemed different from the language the farmers spoke.
Drizzt cleared his throat and spoke slowly, in his own drow language. He pressed an arm against his chest, the standard drow gesture for peace. And he spoke his name. "Drizzt Do'Urden."
The stranger regarded him, then imitated his gesture, slowly. "Kenshin Himura," he spoke in his own language.
Drizzt didn't know if Kenshin was a name or a title or perhaps a species. But he'd take it either way.
Kenshin pressed his fingers to his lips, indicating that Drizzt should focus on his mouth as he spoke. The drow complied. Then Kenshin held up what he had been working on. A stick with two large trout on it. Drizzt's stomach growled at the sight of the fish.
"Sakana," Kenshin said, motioning to the fish. "Sakana." He repeated the word, slowly, allowing Drizzt to commit the word to memory.
"Leith," he responded, muttering the word for fish in the drow language. Then, feeling encouraged, he looked around for other objects. Other words. Fire, stone, sword, dirt. He sounded out each word.
Kenshin responded every time with the word in his own language. As Drizzt watched, he placed the fish over the flame and used body language to show exactly what he was doing, and then followed up with the correct phrase.
Drizzt was so caught up with this game of words that he forgot any other concern for the moment. He smiled, his first genuine smile since he'd come to the surface, thinking surely he had finally found a friend.
The two of them carried on like this all night and into the next day, and Drizzt smiled genuinely every time he learned and taught a new word. They shared the fish that Kenshin had caught and they both smiled easily as the word exchange flowed freely between them. They both rested as well, trusting in the protection of the other.
This continued over the course of the next day. When Kenshin left the cave, Drizzt followed. They found more words to share. Tree, leaf, river, water, deer, grass, flower. The sky, the sun, the stars.
Even if their word exchange lessons couldn't convey emotions or feelings, that part wasn't necessary. Drizzt learned that his new friend was very perceptive, understanding emotion through a study of facial expressions and body language.
After the next day had passed, Drizzt needed to think about his mission. His heart still burned with a need for revenge against those who had killed the elves. Eagerly one morning, he led Kenshin through the mountain pass to the clearing where he had buried the elves.
The drow watched as Kenshin stepped forward, reaching out to brush a hand over each of the stones that Drizzt had found for the graves. Six stones for six slain elves. Watching the scene and recalling the image of the bodies, mutilated as they lay strewn around the forest floor, Drizzt remembered his anger. Anger at the beasts who had done this.
Kenshin turned to face the drow, questions in his eyes. Drizzt squared his jaw and was about to explain the situation as best he could when the sound of rustling leaves caught his attention. Immediately, his one scimitar came to his hand as he moved into the bushes toward the sound.
Slowly, Drizzt stalked forward, his sensitive senses leading the way as he kept his scimitar at the ready. He was relieved when Kenshin followed him, his own hand on the hilt of his sword.
Drizzt saw the lone gnoll then as the two of them peered through the brush to a narrow forest trail where it was busily setting up a fire pit, unaware of them. Drizzt exchanged looks with Kenshin as his friend took in the sight. His look of alarm and disgust told the drow that his friend had never seen these kinds of creatures before.
Drizzt despised the idea of killing anyone. He already felt the burden of guilt on his shoulders for killing the barghests who had murdered the farmer family he had encountered. Despite the monster's terrible deeds and his need to avenge the farmers, he always added on one more layer of guilt every time he took a life.
But that wouldn't sway him from his mission. Taking in a breath, Drizzt jumped out of the brush and onto the path in front of the startled gnoll. Narrowing his eyes, he spoke in goblin.
"Did you slay elves?" he demanded as his eyes moved to the sight of the dried blood on its spears.
The gnoll grinned. "Killed them days ago we did," it proclaimed proudly. "And the humans not long after. Leader will be pleased with our work."
Those words caught in Drizzt's throat as he thought about the human party that had come out of the village in pursuit of him, the ones he had been so careful to keep ahead of. He had been so caught up in his own happenings that he hadn't even realized that they had stopped tracking him.
Enraged, the drow dove in, scimitar ready. He swiped at the gnoll, scoring a hit on the creature's lightly armored shoulder, pressing his blade past the hide and into the flesh. The gnoll screeched in pain as it dropped its spear and brandished a dagger, swiping and scoring a minor hit on the drow's exposed wrist. The sharp pain almost caused Drizzt to drop his scimitar.
At that moment, Kenshin dove headlong into the fray, his sword drawn as he moved to attack the gnoll. As he came in fast, so fast that the drow had barely registered him, Drizzt noted his strange curved sword. The blade was on the other side! Was this some sort of trick?
Kenshin scored a hit on the gnoll and Drizzt heard a distinct crunch of bone as the blunt side of the sword impacted. The drow was amazed that the strike didn't draw blood but broke bone, enough so that the gnoll moved back, obviously confused by the accuracy and force exerted by this strange sword.
The gnoll was in dire straits now as its arm hung uselessly at its side and a wound from Drizzt's scimitar leaked black blood. It should have turned and fled but it made one final launch at the human, an attack that didn't manifest as the drow dove in and plunged his scimitar into the creature's chest.
Kenshin's eyes widened as the now lifeless creature slid off Drizzt's blade and crumpled in a heap between them. The drow recognized the look of alarm and shock in the human's eyes and worried that his gruesome kill had damaged their budding friendship.
"It had to be done," Drizzt offered in his own language, trying to convey the sincere regret and guilt he felt over what he had done. Kenshin's soldier's slumped as he put his blade back into its sheath. The drow wanted to ask him many things then. Wanted to ask about that sword, the strange blade that didn't seem like it could kill. And he wanted to ask his friend what his experience was, the look in his eyes told the drow that his friend had certainly taken lives in the past, surely it was the source of his apparent trepidation now.
But those questions would have to wait. They didn't know enough about one another's language to be able to exchange such complex thoughts, and Drizzt hadn't missed the fact that the gnoll had used the pronoun "we" indicating that there were likely more gnolls in the area.
The drow swallowed as he moved past the human and began walking along the trail, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Perhaps he would find more bodies to bury.