The Lesser Evil

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: A huge thanks to everyone who has sent me comments, they have really encouraged me. A few readers have also drawn my attention to a character portrayal that I do agree needs some smoothing out, so stay tuned to see if this works. And yes, I am evil.

FYI: The drow phrase at the end of the chapter is quoted directly from Salvatore (Servant of the Shard to be exact) so no criticisms of my translation please.

Chapter 4: Still a Drow

She lay on a thick bed of evergreens and maple branches, her face bearing a look of eternal peace despite the circumstances that took her from the world. Catti-brie never liked wearing dresses, so they all made sure she would meet her final rest in her favorite worn trousers and loose white tunic, boots on her feet, a small bundle of multi-colored wildflowers, fresh sprouts from the sunny side of Kelvin's Cairn, clenched between her cold fingers. Her auburn hair flowed freely down her shoulders, framing her forever-beautiful face and tumbling below the green scarf that was wrapped around her neck.

The dwarf cleric, Stumpet Rakingclaw, stood at her head, saying sacred words blessing her transition to a peaceful afterlife. She occasionally looked up from the body of her old friend up to see the somber, tear-streaked faces of the four men Catti-brie Do'Urden held the most dear: her adopted father Bruenor Battlehammer, her husband Drizzt Do'Urden, her adopted brother Wulfgar, and her old friend and traveling companion Regis. Regis wept openly, his little hand wrapped over his face. Bruenor did all he could to remain standing; his sturdy body trembled as he let out gasping sobs. Wulfgar stood silent, trying to maintain a façade of strength despite his red eyes and occasional painful sigh. Drizzt just stood and stared at his wife with heavy eyes, feeling an ever-expanding emptiness in his heart. He tried to connect with nature and feel the presence of Mielikki, yet all he felt was the weight of his soul. His lavender eyes were red from exhaustion, yet he could feel no tears.

Drizzt Do'Urden remembered the moment he stopped crying. It was three days ago back in that horrible stretch of wood as he cradled his wife's body. The exact second after Artemis Entreri gave him a stiff pat on the shoulder, his tears just stopped, replaced by a heavy numbness that never lifted. He barely registered the clops of hooves and the sight of a fisherman from Targos and his two teenage sons riding towards him after a day of hunting. Old Rolf Harney must have helped him to his feet because he suddenly realized he was standing and watching young Daley and Karl wrap Catti-brie in a brown, wool blanket. Drizzt remembered uttering a few gasping words about what happened, though Rolf's expression told the ranger his words were understood. Drizzt just recognized the burning in his stomach and the ache behind his eyes.

The only time he felt any other emotion was the slight burst of anxiety when both boys said they saw two men running away from the scene. Drizzt just muttered something about how the two were bounty hunters claiming their prize and they should be left alone.

Fortunately, the matter was not pursued further and Drizzt was left to his sadness. They all left the wood in a somber procession. Catti-brie's body was tied onto the back of Rolf's horse and her husband led the animal to the dwarven caves.

Since that day, Drizzt sealed himself in Catti-brie's old room in her father's caverns locked away by the cold stones and his numb melancholy. He would sit against the wall and hear the screams of each dwarf as the terrible news quickly spread. Then came Bruenor's sickening roar and Regis' quiet whimpers and Drizzt knew the two had just received the worst homecoming of their lives. For the next two days, the occasional dwarf would enter Drizzt's room to offer gruff condolences and the rare pat on the shoulder before leaving. Regis came in once, though his words were brief before he practically ran out. Bruenor never visited. Stumpet told him the king's grief also locked him in his chambers, though he occasionally ventured out to his feast hall to soak his tears in ale and song. Wulfgar arrived from the Tribe of the Elk the next day, though he never made his presence known to Drizzt, who only learned of his arrival from the always accommodating Stumpet.

Regardless of who did or did not visit, Drizzt was still utterly alone. Catti-brie would never be by his side again, an absence that left a hollow in his grieving soul and made his entire body ache. He wrapped himself in those final, horrible images of her murder and recalled the moments share with his wife and all that would never happen. They would never run to the ends of the earth in pursuit of adventure. There would be no beautiful children with their father's flowing, white hair and their mother's gleeful, blue eyes. Drizzt would never watch his wife grow old and die peacefully; a fact once dreaded, but now wished had been so.

Three days after their last battle, Drizzt Do'Urden stood in another shallow part of the forest, the four surviving Companions of the Hall beside him in body yet all lost in spirit. He pulled his traveling cloak tight around him, but the fabric could only shield the outside wind and not the creeping chill that consumed his small form. He never took his eyes off his wife, savoring his final moments with the woman who was everything to him: his best friend, his first lover, the one person who spoke the loudest words of encouragement, the one person who made him feel he was truly good.

Stumpet Rakingclaw said her final prayers, and then lifted a small torch from the ground. After putting the staff of pitched tinder to flint and steel, the torch caught a flame and Stumpet lowered it onto Catti-brie's bed of leaves. Catti-brie always said she never wanted to be tied to one place, so the Companions decided she should be cremated and her ashes allowed to fly free. The bright light briefly stung the drow's sensitive eyes, but the fire at last summoned a few lingering tears as Drizzt Do'Urden watched as Catti-brie Do'Urden's body became one with the branches and then one with the earth.

When the flames finally burned themselves out, the Companions gathered her ashes, placed them in individual clay boxes, and scattered them to the strong winds over Kelvin's Cairn. Embraces and words of predictable kindness were all shared afterward, though they all parted ways in silence. As Regis and Bruenor turned and walked back towards the caves, Wulfgar and Drizzt exchanged a lingering, painful glance. The barbarian said nothing, yet his somber face spoke for him: he was not mourning his adopted sister but his former fiancé. Catti-brie's widower, the man who ultimately won her heart, understood his pain, yet couldn't quench a feeling of deep resentment. The big man turned and walked down the hill in the direction of his tribe, never to be heard from in the following days. Drizzt was now alone, his small feet buried in the snow as he stared out at the sky. The Companions of the Hall had scattered and nothing could ever be the same.

As a few more days came and went, Drizzt became more awake to the world though the pain never faded. He tried to salve his heart by spending more time in the wilderness, his old and once beloved home. The dark elf regularly took his Reverie in various parts of the wood, hoping his soul would finally emerge from its deep pit of grief, though the effort was futile. His dreams were always troubled, the bloody scenes of the last battle playing themselves endlessly in his mind. He would always wake screaming, Catti-brie's head flying from her body was always the last, lingering image. Drizzt considered leaving, taking to the road and hoping he could find some peace there, though these plans were also fleeting.

The drow was sitting on a boulder overlooking the woods one morning, contemplating his next actions, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He slowly turned around to see Bruenor holding Catti-brie's travel sack filled with various items.

"Well, we got the last of me girl's things from your cave, elf," the dwarf king said.

Drizzt nodded, considering his old friend's kindness in helping clean out the cavern he shared with his wife. He felt guilty for not doing the task himself, but the thought of going back made him ill.

"Cassius came by," Bruenor continued. "Council meetin's this afternoon and he wants t'know what happened with those bandits. I told him you ain't ready to give yer story, but the durned fool's bein' awful orc-headed. Maybe ye should just go down and see what they want."

Drizzt gave a pained sigh and flinched. He knew the council wanted a full report on the battle with the highwaymen for the sake of Ten-Towns' safety. Regis told him for the past several days how Cassius demanded to see Drizzt as soon as possible, despitethe drow'sdeep grief. Drizzt dreaded the thought of describing the worst day of his life to a bunch of prickly bureaucrats, especially if they knew about the bounty hunters he insisted not be pursued. He knew, however, that this chore couldn't be put off any longer.

"Fine," Drizzt said, rising and throwing up his hands.

"Rumblebelly's in the caves, so ye can go down with him," Bruenor said, nodding. "If ye gotta do this, ye won't be alone."

Alone, he thought, I am always alone.

Drizzt followed his dwarf friend back to the stifling caverns. Regis met him there and gave a slight nod in greeting, though neither said anything as they left for Bryn Shander together. Drizzt did take advantage of the silent, awkward journey by mentally rehearsing his speech to the council. If talk turned to the bounty hunters, he would be as brief, yet truthful as possible. The councilors didn't need to know about his friendship with Jarlaxle, nor the sudden kindness shown by his one-time foe Entreri. He would talk of their aid in battle, yet try to distance himself from both.

Gradually the thatched roofs and smoking chimneys of Bryn Shander came into view and Drizzt steeled himself for the likely stares and whispers of the townsfolk. News of Catti-brie's death was probably the most discussed topic of the moment and her widower would likely receive more attention than usual. Soon, they were past the gates and walking through the town's bustling streets. Drizzt's eyes were glued to the road, yet he could feel the expected stares as he walked by. The ranger looked up and met the gazes of the people, noticing looks of deep pity in some faces, while others bore the furrowed brows and frowns of accusation. Drizzt shook his head, expecting as much.

Drizzt never thought he would be glad to see the council house, but the opportunity to be away from the ever increasing whispers and stares, both good and bad, was appealing no matter what form it took. Regis entered first, followed by Drizzt, who immediately heard the usual loud bickering in the council chambers and kept the futile hope that his stint in front of the councilors would be minor compared to the other business. With a churning stomach and a heavy heart, Drizzt walked through the doors and was soon facing the spokesmen of Ten-Towns.

All ten men immediately stopped their discussion and regarded the two entering the chamber, all gazes falling on Drizzt.

"Pardon my lateness, gentlemen," Regis said, taking his seat as the spokesman for Lonelywood.

"Understood, Spokesman Regis," Cassius said, his eyes never leaving the dark elf. "We are honored by you're presence, Master Do'Urden. Please take a seat."

"I am fine standing, thank you," Drizzt said tersely.

"As you wish," the elderman continued. "Before we begin this meeting, would like to express my personal condolences for the loss of your wife. I think I speak for the council when I say that Catti-brie Battlehammer was a wonderful member of this community and she will be sadly missed."

The rest of the council nodded, though Drizzt observed many uncomfortable expressions.

"I appreciate your kind words," the ranger said carefully, though subtly rolling his eyes after Cassius omitted her married name. "Catti-brie Do'Urden is very greatly missed."

The councilors exchanged glances and Drizzt readied himself for a fight.

"I am greatly sorry to hold this meeting at such a time," Cassius continued, "but it is in the best interests of this community that we receive some information regarding this terrible tragedy from the only witness."

"I understand and am happy to offer any information you may request," Drizzt replied.

Cassius then asked him for an account of how the couple came across the bandits. Drizzt gave his description of seeing the fireball from his cave and investigating, only to be drawn into an ambush. The ranger focused on Elderman Cassius, yet he managed to glance at the rest of the councilors, whose faces were all grim. All except the notoriously prickly Kemp of Targos, who held back a smug smile.

"Master Rolf Harney and his boys told us that they saw two men leaving the scene shortly before they found you," Cassius said. "Master Harney said you told him these two men were bounty hunters."

"That is correct," Drizzt said, feeling the sweat bead down his back and steeling himself for whatever might be said next.

"All three of them apparently got good looks at these men through the brush. They all say one of them was a black-skinned man in a rather large hat and the other was swarthier with black hair and a very fancy dagger. These descriptions fit two rather notorious scoundrels…"

"Artemis Entreri and Jarlaxle of Menzoberranzan," the spokesman from Targos interrupted. "The most infamous assassin of Calimshan and one of the most powerful drow in the Underdark. I do not doubt these two are familiar to you."

Drizzt felt his stomach drop. He looked at Regis, whose jaw dropped as his eyes widened in a look of fearful surprise.

"Yes, these two are painfully familiar," the ranger said, "though their identities are, for once, irrelevant. In fact both those scoundrels wasted half the gang before we even got there. When my wife was killed, they claimed their heads and ran for the rewards, hence why I told Master Harney they were merely bounty hunters."

"I'm sure you greatly appreciated the sudden appearance of these villains," Targos said, rising, "due to the fact you have been keeping correspondence with at least one of them."

Drizzt's face grew hot as he glared at Kemp, who reached into his vest and produced a familiar white scroll. The drow folded his arms around his stomach, his right fingertips gently tapping Icingdeath's hilt. Regis' lower lip started trembling, his eyes darting to Kemp, then Drizzt. Kemp opened the scroll and read every word written. Drizzt tried to stay calm, yet he felt the blood rush through his temples as he glared at the spokesman.

"Where did you get that?" Drizzt asked in a chilling tone.

"I found it lying on the floor of your cave," Cassius said. "There was always a possibility it might provide some information regarding the incident, and unfortunately we were right."

"That is my private property," Drizzt roared, drawing a surprised jump from Regis.

"That is evidence," Targos yelled back, pointing the scroll at him. "You knew this band was coming to the Dale, yet you never told anyone."

"By the time I received the letter it was too late!"

"A convenient excuse. I just enjoy the irony of this situation: the same moment two of the most notorious murderers in the land enter our community is the same moment a troupe of powerful highwaymen come upon our most celebrated hero and his dear wife, who just happens to die fighting alongside her great husband's evil pen-pals."

"Kemp you are out of line!" Regis shouted, jumping on the table and waving a finger at the councilor.

"I sincerely hope you are not throwing around accusations, spokesman," Drizzt said, his tone suddenly calmer. "Words made in haste are words hastily regretted."

"Is that a threat, dark elf?" Targos asked with a smirk.

"That's enough, councilor," Cassius said forcefully. "Master Do'Urden, we make no accusations, but when a rather well known protector of the Dale is found to keep the company of two of this land's most notorious criminals, it does raise some suspicions."

"Fine," Drizzt said calmly, his venom not waning, "To keep all of you satisfied, I will tell you about my 'evil pen-pals.' The letter was written by Jarlaxle. I will be the first to admit he is a devious scoundrel whose reputation is well-earned. Jarlaxle is also a refugee from Menzoberranzan who wishes to escape the machinations of our kin. He has been traveling the surface for the past five years as a hired sword, the most legitimate work he has been able to find. Master Entreri walks a similar path and our feud ended long ago. Though I am certain they acted out of profit and not goodwill, both men acted in the defense of Icewind Dale regardless. It surprises me to say this, but both men played heroes in this game and removed many villains from thee borders of Ten-Towns. We owe them at least some gratitude."

"Yes, gratitude from one drow to another," Kemp of Targos added. "Yet another sad story meant to win followers and minions. Will Jarlaxle of Menzoberranzan have as much fortune playing the hero as the famous Drizzt Do'Urden?"

"You still curse his name even after all he has done to protect the Dale," Regis spat.

"I side with the spokesman from Lonelywood," Agorwal of Termalaine, Drizzt's old friend and greatest advocate, said rising. "Over the past decade, the actions of Drizzt Do'Urden have spared Ten-Towns from destruction on more occasions than we need to count. If Drizzt Do'Urden says this Jarlaxle character has also forsaken the evil ways of the drow, I count his words truth."

A few more councilors nodded in agreement, but Drizzt eyed those who remained still, including Cassius.

"So be it," the elderman said gravely. "Until we find evidence otherwise, I consider this matter closed. The highwaymen are all dead, the two bounty hunters are long gone, and I will make no judgments based on rumor and not fact. We will continue to investigate and I strongly advise you to cooperate with this council when requested, Master Do'Urden."

Drizzt nodded, his icy eyes trained on Cassius as his blood boiled.

"Are we done?" the drow sneered.

"Yes, we are done," Cassius replied.

"For now at least," Targos added.

Drizzt turned on his heel and walked towards the door. As he put a hand on the brass knob, he stopped and turned back around.

"Hear me well," he said, eyeing every member of the council. "I will not suffer any fruitless allegations from fools. I swear by the gods I did nothing to harm my wife. Anyone who says otherwise will face me."

Drizzt noticed Regis' frozen gaze as he turned back around and walked out of the council chambers. His hands shook as he walked to the street and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. After a short while, he felt a small hand grab his arm and pull him closer to the council house wall away from the street.

"Writing friendly letters to a treacherous mercenary, defending that vile assassin, have you gone mad?" Regis whispered in a tone of panic.

"Did you not listen to a word I said?" Drizzt whispered back.

"This is beyond your usual recklessness, Drizzt," the halfling spat. "You nearly met your death by their hands, yet you now call them heroes?"

"Yes, master dark elf," a loud voice said. Drizzt and Regis looked up to see Kemp of Targos and a few other councilors facing them. "We were wondering the same thing ourselves."

"This matter is finished," Drizzt sneered, walking up to the spokesman.

"Not for long," the man replied.

Drizzt gave him one last sneer and turned around.

"So what gods do you swear by, drow?" Targos continued. "Vhaeraun, perhaps Lolth?"

Drizzt stopped where he stood, turning to face his accuser with a glare.

"You keep correspondence with a powerful drow mercenary. Do you take tea with matrons as well?"

The onlookers only observed a blur of motion as Drizzt appeared behind Targos, a scimitar blade pressed firm below the spokesman's Adam's apple and an ebony hand holding his arms against his back. Regis let out a yelp and the other councilors put hands on their respective swords. Kemp of Targos was taller and more muscular than Drizzt, yet he made no struggle, knowing his death would come quick if he dared.

"Is this what you want me to do, spokesman," Drizzt growled, "remove your head right in front of these people and prove my wickedness? Maybe I will oblige you for once."

The blade pressed harder,a small trickle of blood running from theshallow slice. Drizzt felt Targos' hands shaking as his breathing was staggered, knowing he finally humbled the villain.

"It's a pity," Targos said, his voice slightly cracking. "I actually started respecting you. I should have remembered that a drow hero is still a drow."

"Quiensin ful biezz quangolth cree, a drow," Drizzt hissed, suddenly remembering an old drow proverb he never thought would leave his lips: "Doomed are those who believe they understand the designs of the drow."

Drizzt pulled the blade across. Targos gave a scream before realizing the slice had only left a long, superficial scrape in his flesh. His peace ended when a scimitar hilt drove into his lower back with a sickening crack and a searing explosion of pain. He still felt his legs, yet the shock buckled his knees as more swift blows snapped his collarbone, cracked his jaw, slammed into the top of his skull. The councilor crumpled to the ground, his blurring vision looking up to see the drow, hand wrapped around a bloody hilt and face locked into an icy, yet satisfied glare.

Drizzt kicked the groaning, semi-conscious Targos in the ribs before sheathing Twinkle and facing a small crowd of people including all ten remaining councilors. Regis was frozen, his eyes wide in terror. Cassius and Agorwal stood still, glaring at him in disgust. No one, however, made any moves.

"He will live, I made sure of that," Drizzt said, bowing low and walking away.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," Cassius called to the drow, who stopped and turned. "I will give you until sunrise to remove yourself from the Icewind Dale. As of that time you are hereby banished from these lands until this council decides you fit to return."

Drizzt nodded slowly, and then continued on his path. As he was further away from the scene of his crime,his shakingreached into the small sack around his neck and clasped the adamantine disk, saying a command word and feeling it vibrate as the summons was placed.