Disclaimer: None of characters or places in this story beyond all the
members of the Red Talon Band and the village area are my creation. They
are all the work of R. A. Salvatore and the Forgotten Realms campaign
setting.
The stars glittered brightly this night, diamonds sparkling against a black velvet cloth. Drizzt Do'Urden lay on his back, his cloak wrapped tightly against the cutting wind. The first signs of winter were evident, and the relentless wind that gave the harsh northern land of Ice wind Dale its name carried upon it the hint of snows. Despite the quiet night, the drow was not entirely relaxed, and his enchanted scimitars lay nearby. An inattentive person in unforgiving Icewind Dale was soon a dead person. Nearby, similarly alert, was the magical panther Guenhwyvar, her head resting comfortably on her large paws.
Drizzt had been up on the area of the mountain Kelvin's Cairn called Bruenor's Climb for several hours, enjoying the simple pleasure of the beautiful night sky. He had summoned Guenhwyvar from her home in the Astral Plane to share the beauty with her. Drizzt was now taking advantage of this quiet time to contemplate recent events.
Wulfgar, one of his dearest friends, was returned. Drizzt and his other friends had thought Wulfgar dead in a battle against a yochlol, an evil handmaiden of the drow goddess Lolth. But the barbarian had returned to them in another battle, one against Errtu, a fearsome balor who was now banished to the Abyss. The drow that had marched against the ancient dwarven homeland of Mithril Hall had been repulsed. Yet all did not sit well with the good dark elf. The lingering pain and torment evident in Wulfgar's eyes made Drizzt acutely aware that he should be doing something for his huge friend, but he knew he could do nothing but offer support. Above all, the fear that the drow of Menzoberrenzan, Drizzt's home for the first years of his life, would somehow regroup and attack Mithril Hall again bothered the noble ranger the most. Mithril Hall was hundreds of miles away, and if the drow did decide to attack, he and his friends could do nothing to help the dwarves. Drizzt knew it was impossible. The dwarf Bruenor had slain Matron Mother Baenre, the leading force behind the assault on the hall six years ago, and the surviving dark elves had fled back to the tunnels of the Underdark. Drizzt had not heard anything of them since, not even of a surface raid, which the evil race often embarked on to slay their most hated enemies, the surface elves. The fear remained, though, lurking in the back of his mind, making him anxious to depart Icewind Dale, to find adventure so that he might forget about any lingering doubts.
Guenhwyvar's head came off her paws then and her ears pricked. Drizzt reached for his scimitars, taking his hands back when he recognized the two arguing voices floating towards him from the trail below.
"If ye're making me climb up here fer nothing, ye'll get it!" The first voice was that of a surly dwarf.
"Suren we'll find him up here," the second voice, a woman's, returned.
"Durned elf," the first voice muttered. "Should be sleeping, like a decent person."
The people that matched the voices soon came into view, climbing towards the drow's perch. Catti-brie came first, a young and beautiful human woman, carrying her powerful bow, Taulmaril the Heartseeker. Behind her, stumping up the trail and grumbling all the way came Bruenor Battlehammer, Catti-brie's adoptive father. The tough old dwarf carried a many-notched axe and a wicked scar that ran across his face, a legacy of the terrible battles against the drow six years ago. Drizzt was again painfully reminded of the horrors his heritage had caused. He rose to meet his friends, Guenhwyvar padding along silently next to him. Catti-brie grinned when she saw him, and turned back to Bruenor "I telled ye so."
"Where is Regis?" Drizzt asked, already knowing the answer.
"Asleep," Catti-brie replied, and smiled again. She knew just as well as Drizzt did that their halfling friend would not give up a chance for a nap to come out in the biting cold. Icewind Dale was a far cry from the warm southern lands Regis had grown up in. "Wulfgar is asleep as well. He looked like he needed it." Drizzt nodded.
"What're ye doing up here so late?" Bruenor asked when he joined his daughter and his friend. "We're fer leaving early tomorrow morning."
"The stars," the drow said simply. Both Bruenor and Catti-brie looked up at the sky. The young woman marveled at the tapestry of stars above her. The stubborn dwarf snorted, showing what he thought of the whole thing, yet even he could not deny the beauty. "Nowhere else in Faerûn, except maybe the sea," Drizzt continued, "can you witness such a sight, the stars stretching towards the horizon, nothing to block your view. You feel like you can reach out and touch them." The three friends stood, caught up in the spell of the moment, until Guenhwyvar yawned loudly. Drizzt looked over to the panther. She stood serenely, several feet away, and yawned again.
"Very well." The ranger pulled the onyx summoning figurine out of his belt pouch and placed it on the ground. "Go home, Guen. Get some rest." The panther turned to insubstantial gray mist before his eyes. The mist quickly dissipated on the wind. Drizzt turned back to his friends.
"I fer one agree with the cat," Bruenor said. "I want some sleep in me before we start out." Catti-brie nodded in agreement.
"Aye," Drizzt said. "Let us return to the mines to sleep a bit." With one last, longing look at the sky, the drow started after his friends.
The stars glittered brightly this night, diamonds sparkling against a black velvet cloth. Drizzt Do'Urden lay on his back, his cloak wrapped tightly against the cutting wind. The first signs of winter were evident, and the relentless wind that gave the harsh northern land of Ice wind Dale its name carried upon it the hint of snows. Despite the quiet night, the drow was not entirely relaxed, and his enchanted scimitars lay nearby. An inattentive person in unforgiving Icewind Dale was soon a dead person. Nearby, similarly alert, was the magical panther Guenhwyvar, her head resting comfortably on her large paws.
Drizzt had been up on the area of the mountain Kelvin's Cairn called Bruenor's Climb for several hours, enjoying the simple pleasure of the beautiful night sky. He had summoned Guenhwyvar from her home in the Astral Plane to share the beauty with her. Drizzt was now taking advantage of this quiet time to contemplate recent events.
Wulfgar, one of his dearest friends, was returned. Drizzt and his other friends had thought Wulfgar dead in a battle against a yochlol, an evil handmaiden of the drow goddess Lolth. But the barbarian had returned to them in another battle, one against Errtu, a fearsome balor who was now banished to the Abyss. The drow that had marched against the ancient dwarven homeland of Mithril Hall had been repulsed. Yet all did not sit well with the good dark elf. The lingering pain and torment evident in Wulfgar's eyes made Drizzt acutely aware that he should be doing something for his huge friend, but he knew he could do nothing but offer support. Above all, the fear that the drow of Menzoberrenzan, Drizzt's home for the first years of his life, would somehow regroup and attack Mithril Hall again bothered the noble ranger the most. Mithril Hall was hundreds of miles away, and if the drow did decide to attack, he and his friends could do nothing to help the dwarves. Drizzt knew it was impossible. The dwarf Bruenor had slain Matron Mother Baenre, the leading force behind the assault on the hall six years ago, and the surviving dark elves had fled back to the tunnels of the Underdark. Drizzt had not heard anything of them since, not even of a surface raid, which the evil race often embarked on to slay their most hated enemies, the surface elves. The fear remained, though, lurking in the back of his mind, making him anxious to depart Icewind Dale, to find adventure so that he might forget about any lingering doubts.
Guenhwyvar's head came off her paws then and her ears pricked. Drizzt reached for his scimitars, taking his hands back when he recognized the two arguing voices floating towards him from the trail below.
"If ye're making me climb up here fer nothing, ye'll get it!" The first voice was that of a surly dwarf.
"Suren we'll find him up here," the second voice, a woman's, returned.
"Durned elf," the first voice muttered. "Should be sleeping, like a decent person."
The people that matched the voices soon came into view, climbing towards the drow's perch. Catti-brie came first, a young and beautiful human woman, carrying her powerful bow, Taulmaril the Heartseeker. Behind her, stumping up the trail and grumbling all the way came Bruenor Battlehammer, Catti-brie's adoptive father. The tough old dwarf carried a many-notched axe and a wicked scar that ran across his face, a legacy of the terrible battles against the drow six years ago. Drizzt was again painfully reminded of the horrors his heritage had caused. He rose to meet his friends, Guenhwyvar padding along silently next to him. Catti-brie grinned when she saw him, and turned back to Bruenor "I telled ye so."
"Where is Regis?" Drizzt asked, already knowing the answer.
"Asleep," Catti-brie replied, and smiled again. She knew just as well as Drizzt did that their halfling friend would not give up a chance for a nap to come out in the biting cold. Icewind Dale was a far cry from the warm southern lands Regis had grown up in. "Wulfgar is asleep as well. He looked like he needed it." Drizzt nodded.
"What're ye doing up here so late?" Bruenor asked when he joined his daughter and his friend. "We're fer leaving early tomorrow morning."
"The stars," the drow said simply. Both Bruenor and Catti-brie looked up at the sky. The young woman marveled at the tapestry of stars above her. The stubborn dwarf snorted, showing what he thought of the whole thing, yet even he could not deny the beauty. "Nowhere else in Faerûn, except maybe the sea," Drizzt continued, "can you witness such a sight, the stars stretching towards the horizon, nothing to block your view. You feel like you can reach out and touch them." The three friends stood, caught up in the spell of the moment, until Guenhwyvar yawned loudly. Drizzt looked over to the panther. She stood serenely, several feet away, and yawned again.
"Very well." The ranger pulled the onyx summoning figurine out of his belt pouch and placed it on the ground. "Go home, Guen. Get some rest." The panther turned to insubstantial gray mist before his eyes. The mist quickly dissipated on the wind. Drizzt turned back to his friends.
"I fer one agree with the cat," Bruenor said. "I want some sleep in me before we start out." Catti-brie nodded in agreement.
"Aye," Drizzt said. "Let us return to the mines to sleep a bit." With one last, longing look at the sky, the drow started after his friends.