Midsummer
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.
Chapter 10: Rising Dawn
Innovindil's small hand tightly held the small flap of canvas open while a small tear made its way down her cheek. She knew she should not be snooping like this: Nialian needed to examine Drizzt after his surgery in private, while Catti-brie desperately needed an unobserved moment with her lover. These were merely rational reasons that Innovindil tried to heed when the cleric and her human…lover entered the tent, and they were still in the back of her mind when she cautiously crept over to the back end of the healing tent and found a small flap she could open.
I just need to see Drizzt healthy and alive, she thought at last, finally breaking herself out of the hesitation and opening the flap at last. What she saw made her heart melt.
Drizzt was lying on a cot in the corner; his skin slightly gray, though his eyes were sleepily open as one hand gently combed slender, ebony fingers through the deep auburn hair of the woman whose head rested on his bare chest. Catti-brie was kneeling at the side of the bed, head down, and eyes closed with her back rising and falling with each relaxed breath; completely asleep with a peaceful smile on her face. Innovindil could see Nialian out of the corner of her eye holding two fingers to the inside of Drizzt's wrist before moving his hand to the inside of his elbow and concentrating. Drizzt would occasionally look up at him and the two would exchange soft words Innovindil could not hear, yet it was obvious he was conscious enough to speak.
Despite the occasional trail, her blue orbs would always return to that beautiful sight; two lovers who had become estranged by time and misadventure were united in a harrowing moment. Catti-brie truly loved Drizzt, Innovindil thought as a warm comfort of complete happiness found its way into her heart. Unfortunately it took him falling gravely ill for her to realize that.
It was another thought Innovindil did not want to consider now; she had almost lost another lover. He is still alive, she thought with a clearing sigh, thanks to Nialian's healing and the sudden efforts of an unusual dark elf: the same dark elf leaning over her shoulder now, his breath softly caressing her neck as he stood and watched this scene with just as much interest as she.
"You couldn't help yourself, could you," Jarlaxle said in a mock scolding tone, though he knew her answer would be the same as his.
Innovindil looked over at the drow, whose chin practically rested on her shoulder; her blue eyes meeting his orbs of bright ruby. It was a sight that was unnerving at first, but the orbs seemed to have a certain spark that she found absolutely beautiful. She merely smiled in response to his question and looked back at the beautiful couple in the tent.
Drizzt's eyes were roaming around the tent as he tried to reorient himself and fully shake off the numbing effects of the potion. He heard every word that Nialian had told him, yet he knew their full weight would only come on him later. In the meantime, his hazy lavender orbs frequently traveled to Catti-brie's peaceful, sleeping form; her warm body and sweet breath sending waves of complete joy through every part of his being. He then looked at Nialian's peaceful face, those green eyes filled with wisdom and that lined face filled with care, making him feel completely safe. Feeling the weight of sleep on him once again, he allowed his eyes to trail around the tent; to the other cots in front and beside him, the roof, where several dried flowers hung from the top canopy, to the back, where he saw a flap of canvas slightly ajar and a pair of blue-gold eyes watching him intently.
Drizzt let his hazy vision focus on those beautiful eyes, that soft golden hair, and that beautiful face that wore a look of concern, while a small tear ran down her cheek. He gave her large grin, his eyes then spying the bald, ebon skinned elf next to her trying to keep a cool expression, yet his own eyes were almost completely red. His eyes shifted to both of them and smiled wide. Innovindil gave a slight, embarrassed chuckle, knowing she had been caught while Jarlaxle smiled and nodded his head in greeting. Nialian noticed Drizzt's expression and turned his gaze towards the back of the tent, then smiling and putting up a small hand in a wave of beckoning.
Innovindil practically flung the tarp open, stepping through gracefully, though she felt a mass of nerves threaten to weaken her knees. Jarlaxle paused for a second, then carefully tiptoed in, his own nerves somewhat frayed by everything that he had just walked out of. Then there was the sight of seeing Drizzt awake and alert, his lavender eyes partially open focused on him and face in a large smile. Jarlaxle bowed his head low, a smile forming small at first, then growing into a full grin.
Drizzt gave a small laugh as Innovindil carefully came beside Nialian to one knee, her lips meeting Drizzt's in a small peck as her hands gently clasped his bare shoulders. Jarlaxle came beside her, keeping close to Drizzt yet maintaining a distance from Nialian; a person he was not overly happy with right now. He put his hand down and Drizzt weakly clasped his forearm as he leaned down with his other arm and gave Drizzt a loose embrace.
"Welcome back to the living, abbil," Jarlaxle whispered in his ear before coming back up.
"You're my savior, shebali," Drizzt replied weakly. "I guess I owe you."
"Future favors?" Jarlaxle asked with a wider grin.
Drizzt gave a low chuckle.
"Why not?" he replied
"Within reason, of course," Jarlaxle added in a tone of deference, tousling his thick, white hair.
"You are surrounded by friends tonight, Drizzt," Nialian said softly, making sure not to wake Catti-brie. "You should consider yourself blessed."
Drizzt gave a long sigh as he looked down at the sleeping woman, then at the moon elf, then his fellow drow.
"Indeed I do," Drizzt replied, putting his fingers through Catti-brie's hair once again.
Catti-brie gave a small, light groan, before shifting her head position though not waking.
"She was completely distraught when she found you were ill," Innovindil said.
"Indeed," Jarlaxle added, rubbing his still, sore jaw.
Drizzt noticed the dried blood and the split skin around his lip and could only imagine the circumstances under which he got that injury. He could only give a dirty chuckle that was significantly muted by his waning energy, which was not lost on Nialian.
"Drizzt, I think you could use some rest now," the old priest said.
Drizzt nodded and rubbed one eye with the back of his hand.
Innovindil bent down and kissed him on forehead. Jarlaxle gave him another pat on the shoulder, and then flashed Nialian a pointed look.
"You rest," Jarlaxle said, turning his attention back to Drizzt, whose eyelids were growing noticeably heavier. "I'd hate for my efforts to be wasted."
"You are too kind," Drizzt replied.
"We will be back," Innovindil said, putting a gentle hand through his hair and walking towards the back flap and blowing him a kiss before exiting.
Jarlaxle followed her, before turning around on his heel and blowing an exaggerated kiss to Drizzt before giving Nialian a small sneer and walking out.
Jarlaxle found his way back outside and inhaled the fresh night air. Innovindil stood a few feet away and looked at him. She caught a glimpse of his silent exchange with Nialian and knew he was upset; probably for very good reason. Jarlaxle glanced at her, noticing her curious gaze, and giving her a pointed glare back; the two standing for a second in a thick, uncomfortable silence.
"Nialian lied to you," Innovindil said at last.
"You are very observant," Jarlaxle replied in a biting tone.
"Why do you think he did that?" Innovindil asked, meeting his harsh gaze.
"A good question indeed," Jarlaxle replied sarcastically, putting up his index finger before tapping it against his pointed chin. "Why would a priest of Arunshee's betrayed consort lie to one of her vile children that allowed him to assist in a major operation performed on a member of his blaspheming kin; essentially saving his life when he could have killed him as easily? Very curious indeed."
Jarlaxle threw his hand down and gave Innovindil a calm glare, yet she remained expressionless
"I believe you already know the answer to that," she replied firmly.
Jarlaxle gave a forced cackle that communicated more frustration than mirth.
"Ah yes," he said with another harsh laugh, "one of Nialian Springleaf's little enigmas meant to bring out the 'goodness' in all beings."
"You are an excellent judge of character," Innovindil added with a disarming smile. She paused, not knowing if she should say what was on her mind next. "You have to understand that Nialian has worked for many years with…"
"…The Followers of Eilistraee," Jarlaxle added with a smirk. "Yes, those 'goodly' drow with which he spent the rough equivalent of a century as a healer and advocate, protecting them from both the goodly folk and their not so goodly kin of the spider and the mask."
Innovindil froze, her eyes going wide as her jaw dropped slightly. Jarlaxle put a finger to the bottom of her chin and gently closed her mouth with a smirking sneer. Judging by this look, Jarlaxle knew he had said too much…or he was just beginning to speak.
"Let me tell you a little story," he said, taking a step back. "Once upon a time, oh about three hundred fifty years ago in the magical land of Menzoberranzan, there lived this young drow; a soldier, a member of the guard of the First House, to be exact. He was but a lowly soldier, but, for reasons still unknown in the expanse of the universe, the First Matron favored him a little more than some of her other soldiers, so she would give him special assignments: spy missions, assassinations, happy activities of the like, you get the picture.
"Well, the House Weapon Master was not overly fond of all the attention the young soldier was receiving; no higher reason than it annoyed him. So, one glorious day, he decides to send our hero and a few of his fellows to a surface mission, which you personally will not like; reconnaissance against the surface elves, finding their defensive weak spots so the evil drow could move against them with less fear of defeat. So pleasant, but this was the young drow's mission and he obediently went down all the right paths and ended up in the middle of some horrible surface woods, only they found no elves. It turns out the elves had abandoned that land a decade ago after tribes of orcs claimed this as their territory. The Weapon Master knew this all along; the company only found out the second the smelly creatures found the trespassers.
"To make a long story short, the three fellows were literally torn to shreds. Our hero was impaled by a spear and thrown down a rocky hill like a rag doll; both his legs being cracked into small slivers of bone held in place by some tissue while his affected lung was deflating like a pigskin balloon. Our hero, whilst choking on his own blood, knew he had fought his last battle. Then, something strange happened; the dying young soldier looked up and finally found a surface elf."
Innovindil's gaze was locked on Jarlaxle, though she did see Nialian coming out of the tent from the corner of her vision. Jarlaxle noticed Innovindil's eye shift and looked behind to see the priest ambling toward them with a sad look.
"He will be alright?" Innovindil asked.
"Drizzt is doing remarkably well," Nialian replied, a small smile coming on his face as a tiny hand came up in a gesture of peace. "I gave him a few potions to restore the blood that was lost and prevent any infection and he is a bit healthier now, though he still needs his rest."
Innovindil rushed past Jarlaxle and threw her arms around Nialian, who returned the embrace with a gleeful chuckle. His green eyes then fell to Jarlaxle, who gave a small bow, though his face was still serious. Innovindil pulled back and watched the silent exchange of glances between the drow and the priest and everything was perfectly clear.
"Jarlaxle, if you will, I would like to hear more of the story," Nialian said.
Jarlaxle smirked.
"Actually, I believe there are some details of which I am unaware," the mercenary said. "Perhaps I should give the torch to you for a second."
"Fair enough," Nialian replied with a bow of the head.
Innovindil pulled away from Nialian and stared at him intently, noticing his bright eyes becoming a bit sad.
"The surface elf the young drow saw in his dying moment was a moon elf, a lifelong servant of Corellon who was trying to escape himself. It had been five years since his wife and companion of over a century had died of fever, their children scattering to the winds and him being left alone. He had taken his solitude in the High Forest; living in a tiny cabin of his own making and working as a healer and guide to passing rangers and adventurers as a poor attempt to keep occupied and avoid smothering himself in loneliness. One night, he was reading a few old scrolls when he heard a horrible row about a mile away. He put on his sword and ran from the house. What he found was pools of blood, the bodies of a few orcs…and the mutilated corpses that, on closer inspection, he identified as dark elves.
"The priest looked around, trying to find any potential other drow, when he heard a groan in one of the fallen trees. He looked down to see a young drow crumbled underneath the branches; clad in the armor of the Spider Queen, his blood flowing like a river as the life was seeping from him; bright red eyes almost pleading."
Nialian looked at Jarlaxle, who took a few paces away before coming to a small mound in the grass and lying down, his hands behind his bald head and his face in a looked of amused anticipation. Innovindil looked down at him in awe, then back at the cleric.
"There was a tiny part of him that was tempted to walk away and leave him to his fate," Nialian continued. "Though the louder voice in his soul was the one to which he listened. The priest leaned down, laid his hands on the young soldier's broken body, and prayed to Corellon that this child of Lolth may be healed. His god granted the spell and kept the drow from dying. The priest then slung him over his shoulder, expecting a struggle or a knife in the back at any time, but neither came. He took him into his cabin, fed him, and gave him spells and potions, and the drow healed.
"Remarkably, the young soldier seemed very grateful to the surface elf, thanking him politely and even engaging him in bits of conversation. The priest was rather taken aback for this dark elf bore no animosity towards his surface cousin at all. In fact he spent much time ranting against the society and the house that sent him here in the first place. The priest had lived for a several hundred years and counted himself an excellent judge of character, and he knew this one dark elf was different from his kin in so many ways. The moon elf continued healing his ward and became rather fond of thee drow. The two would spend many hours talking, playing little games. Occasionally he would take him out and show him the wonders of the surface world; the constellations, the sunrise, all the many plants and trees, and the priest knew that Corellon had sent him here as a gift."
"A gift?" Jarlaxle asked.
"A way to salve his own wounds while bringing a youngling of his dark kin to the ways of the light," Nialian replied.
"But, it did not turn out that way, did it?" Jarlaxle added grimly.
Nialian closed his eyes and gave a long sigh.
"The priest felt an affection for the lad he could not describe," Nialian continued, his voice becoming more strained. "He wanted to think he considered the drow a son. Though that was a description with which he was never comfortable. Then came one night three days after the attack; Midsummer's Eve, to be exact."
Jarlaxle's eyes narrowed in puzzlement, an expression not lost on Nialian.
"A night that would mean nothing to the soldier at the time," the cleric continued, "but the passion was there nonetheless. The soldier became a bit closer to the priest and the priest let go of himself at last, allowing himself the feelings that he had harbored all along. It was a moment of pure abandon that led to a moment of…happiness; the greatest peace the old man had known in too long. He gave himself fully; not to submit, but to allow himself trust."
Nialian paused and closed his eyes as a small tear came from one eye. Innovindil allowed herself a small gasp as she looked first at Nialian, then at Jarlaxle as she tried to absorb every ounce of information that was being thrown to her. Jarlaxle raised himself to a sitting position and stared at him; fully taking in that look of pain and allowing it to squeeze on his heart.
"The dark elf saw it as an easy score at first," Jarlaxle added with a slight crack in his voice, "but experienced a beauty he had never known. There were many more moment between them, and the drow even allowed himself to be taken a few times. A gesture of humility maybe, or maybe it was his own way of knowing trust. Then as a tenday passed, it was clear the priest wanted more from him than just physical pleasure."
"He truly wanted to save the soul of the first person he had come to love since his own love was taken," Nialian said almost desperately as a wave of emotions began to pour out. "The first companion he had in five dark years; the one who gave him some hope for the future. The drow was his lover; a lost soul he could rescue so they could be fully united under the light. He felt it was his duty to both his god and his heart to share tales about those who had forsaken the evils of Lolth and come to the Lands of the Light…"
"'Beneath the sun again where trees and flowers grow,'" Jarlaxle added with a long sigh.
"The greeting of Eilistraee," Innovindil said, her own voice not beyond a whisper.
"The young drow listened out of respect," Jarlaxle continued, "but was having none of it for whatever reason. A few days later, he was fully healed and knew his rightful place was in Menzoberranzan; the Land of the Light held too many dangers and lacked the comfort of his caverns. There was another reason why he wanted to be away, but even he had yet to fully determine that. He waited until the dark of night on his eve of his second tenday on the surface when the old priest was in Reverie. The he stole a bottle of wine and a fold of waybread and followed the same routes back to his home city with no further incident. He returned to Menzoberranzan and to his house, where he was immediately allowed an audience with his Matron, told of the treachery of her Weapon Master and all the heroic things he did on the surface…" he turned his gaze to Nialian "including a story about the idiot faerie he made pity him enough to supply healing spells before the soldier had his way with him."
"A story he was pleased to tell?" Nialian asked with a forced smile.
"A story meant to keep him alive so Lolth would never be able to call him a liar," Jarlaxle replied with a sneer.
Nialian nodded and smiled warmly. He had his answer.
"The young soldier was returned to his regiment," Jarlaxle continued, "and the Weapon Master was flogged for his attempt to kill such an honorable soldier. He would later go on to a successful career as a soldier, where he honed his skills and developed an immense dislike for everything he fought for. Maybe he was becoming cynical, maybe generally fed up, or maybe the words of the priest struck him a little harder than he cared to admit. Regardless, a hundred years later, he ran from his house; falling in with a rag tag band of mercenaries, whose leader's throat he would slit and build his own empire."
"Did he kill any others?" Nialian asked firmly.
"Many, many times," Jarlaxle added with a sneer.
"Did he torture?"
"Yes, but was never proud of it."
"Did he rape?"
"Never."
"Did he return again to the Lands of the Light? Honor the memory of a murdered friend by protecting his son?"
Jarlaxle paused as a tightness formed in the back of his throat.
"Yes," he aid in the strongest voice he could muster.
"Then the young drow saved his soul after all," Nialian said. "And he would make the old priest a happy man."
Jarlaxle slowly rose to his feet and stared at Nialian, absorbing the small smile that crept over his face and the bright look in his eyes. They exchanged no words, but these looks alone spoke everything for them; three hundred fifty years worth of words exchanged in one moment. Innovindil glanced at both of them, her expression of pure awe still in tact as a small tear streamed down her check; the only response she could make to savor this perfect moment.
The light swish of the sweet, Midsummer breeze was joined by the light, airy call of many pan pipes sounding at once in a perfect, mournful chord. Jarlaxle and Innovindil turned in the direction of the breathtaking sound, while Nialian closed his eyes and smiled more brightly. He then turned his green-gold eyes to the sky, absorbing the beautiful hue of darkest indigo it took. The bright moon was fading, but the golden sun would arrive in a little over an hour. He then turned back to Jarlaxle, his lost and found lover, and Innovindil, one of his dearest most compassionate friends and noticed how beautiful these fair creatures looked standing in front of him.
"The evening is almost over," Nialian said softly. "Moonwood will be enjoying one last celebration before another Midsummer is put to rest. If I'm not mistaken, I believe there is a little dance in need of your presence."
Nialian savored their expressions of momentary confusion, before Innovindil gave a devilish smirk; the evening's last dance was about to begin. She turned to Jarlaxle, taking his arm, and watching a large grin form. The drow looked back at Nialian's calm, yet amused expression, then back at the radiant moon elf next to him, and understood perfectly. He bowed his head and motioned an arm in the direction of the blown melody.
The old priest took in one last look of them both, before bowing low and walking past them in the direction of the village, keen ears hearing the light footsteps of two elves following close behind.
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Drizzt gently nudged Catti-brie to the side as he gathered his growing, yet muted strength and slowly slipped from the side of the cot; setting the sleeping woman gently on the pillow as he came to a sitting position, allowing himself the momentary dizziness before regaining his bearings as he positioned himself on the edge of the mattress. He braced his arms behind him and stretched, immediately greeted by the aching stiffness from the fresh stitches in the side of his lower abdomen. The momentary wave faded and Drizzt gave a small chuckle. This was the type of pain he was used too; the itching burn of his skin as it healed from the slice of a blade. This was infinitely preferable to the fiery agony that assaulted every part of his being earlier.
He planted his feet on the floor and forced his leg muscles to pull him upward. They did so with small protest, though soon he was on his feet; wobbling and disoriented at first, though steady after a momentary press of will. Drizzt put another foot forward, shifted his weight, and allowed himself another wobbly step, figuring the potions Nialian had given him worked well. Just an hour ago, he was completely prone with little comprehension of his surroundings; just awakening from the potion as his body reacted to the great amount of blood he lost during the operation. A few potions later, he was feeling infinitely better.
He braced himself against a tent pole, one arm balancing his weight, while the other reaching instinctively for the white, blood spotted bandage around his torso. He gently lifted the wrapping and peered down to see the red, swollen skin around a two inch line that led down the side of his abdomen, starting at his navel and ending at the top of his hip joint; small bands of dark green thread strung snugly through his dark flesh and a tiny bit of blood oozed from the wound, though he could see much of it drying already. Drizzt grimaced slightly and replaced the bandage in its original position, giving a long sigh.
The operation was over. The bloated mass of tissue that was his appendix was now in a fireplace, Nialian had told him. He had been put to sleep, cut open, had a part of his intestines cut out, was sewn back up, and survived…though barely. The reality of what the cleric told him was now just beginning to set in; he nearly died during the procedure, though Jarlaxle had saved him, giving him breathes when his had failed and bringing them back and him out of danger. Drizzt paused on that thought and smirked; nothing that evening had any greater importance.
"Drizzt," a tired, yet worried voice called from behind.
He slowly looked back to see Catti-brie rubbing her eyes and leaning on one elbow, allowing himself a moment to drink in the most beautiful woman in the world.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," she said, coming to a sit.
"You know how I can't stay still for long," he replied, smile still in tact.
Drizzt fully positioned his body around and stepped forward; the tightness in his abdomen once again reminding him of its presence. He winced slightly as he came forward. Catti-brie snapped to her feet and held her arms out to him with a look of complete worry. He held his hands up and continued forward. Catti-brie took her seat back on the bed and positioned her hands on Drizzt's waist, guiding him as he sat at the edge of the cot with a small groan.
"How're you feeling?" she asked, sitting by his side and looking at him.
"A little sore, a little drawn out," he replied, "butt otherwise fine. Nialian is indeed a skilled cleric."
Her look of worry melted into a small smile.
"He did good work," she said, her beaming eyes locked on Drizzt's face. "You're here now."
He looked over at her and saw a look of true, deep concern; the most desperate and sincere expression he had seen from her in a year. Drizzt gazed at her and lifted a hand he ran though her hair. She gave a relieved sigh at the touch and closed her eyes to savor his small, gentle fingers running through her thick, auburn locks.
"Catti-brie what happens after tonight?" he asked in a whisper, his smile straightening as his voice cracked slightly with the wave of emotion threatening to burst forth.
She paused, her lower lip trembling slightly as she felt the burn as well.
"After tonight," she replied, her voice firm, yet pleading, "you get better. You'll stay here as long as Nialian wants you to and then I'll take you back to Mithril Hall. The orcs will have to savor another day, because in the meantime, I'll be making sure you get rest and take your medicine, and I won't be a push-over about that, Drizzt Do'Urden."
Drizzt let out a gleeful laugh that conjured a few tears.
"What about Deudermont?" Drizzt asked, bracing himself for whatever answer he may receive next.
Catti-brie moved her lips as if attempting to speak, though the words seemed too wrapped in threatening tears.
"He'll just have to wait 'til you're healed," she said. "If that happens before he shoves off, then I'm draggin' your skinny, elf arse to Waterdeep and we're huntin' pirates."
Drizzt looked down at the floor as he let the words sink in: she was staying with him. They would be together. He grabbed Catti-brie by the shoulders and kissed her passionately, tears flowing down his ebony cheeks as he basked in the wave of happiness. Catti-brie gave a small sob and kissed him with just as much vigor. She wrapped her arms around his small body and pulled him in closer, feeling those strong, wiry arms embrace her in the greatest moment she had known in too long.
"Catti-brie," Drizzt whispered in her ear, "Despite all that has happened, this year or last or ever, I have never stopped loving you. I don't give a damn about anything you did tonight; for the only thing that would break my heart was knowing that I had lost yours."
Catti-brie clutched him tighter, her eyes red and overflowing with tears.
"I don't care, either, Drizzt," she said at last to her lover and to herself, feeling every word. "I was a fool for treating you how I did. I love you so much and I cannot bear the thought of losing you for such petty reasons."
They embraced, savoring the warmth of each other's body and the bliss of their lovers' mere presence; Catti-brie was here, and Drizzt was just alive, nothing else mattered in that moment of pure paradise.
"And you were right about one thing," she managed to whisper. "I wouldn't care if you laid half the ladies and half the lords tonight, or any night for that matter."
Drizzt managed a cracked laugh as he remembered saying those words during their horrible fight at the beginning of the evening, recalling another part...
"Though, yes, I did care when your entrails were ripped out," she continued.
Drizzt laughed harder, burying his head in her shoulder.
"Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy," he said with a groan, eliciting a small laugh from Catti-brie.
He raised his head to peer into those beautiful blue eyes once again, and then kissed her. It was a kiss of pure love; a display of blissfully comfortable affection with the woman whose heart he still had. The tender kiss took on more passion, Catti-brie's hands trailing down his chest as he squeezed her shoulders tighter. One hand gently traced down the center of his abdomen, playfully tucking a finger to the unaffected skin under the bandage, before bringing it out. She knew she should just return the hand to his chest, but her unconscious mind gently brushed the bandage before pressing harder against the bare flesh at his pelvis, then gently clasping another part of his body that seemed eager for some use. Drizzt gave a sigh at the touch and let his head fall back as Catti-brie kept her gentle grasp, which tightened slightly. He clutched he shoulders tighter and pulled her in harder.
"Do you remember the first time we made love?" she whispered in his ear. "You had just come back to Mithril Hall and I was still on a cane from having my hip caved in. I remembered you sweeping me off my feet and carrying me into your room. It was the first time you had ever been with a woman and my hip felt completely awful. Then you began; you did everything so perfectly, keeping me comfortable and making the ache completely melt away."
"I can never forget," he whispered back, his voice taking a small gasp as Catti-brie increased her grip.
"So, how's your side feeling," she said, a smile coming over her face.
"Sore," he replied, his own smile firmly in place. "Do you think you can help me with that?"
Catti-brie grinned and continued kissing him, her hand coming off his lower body as she took his own hand and guided it towards her trouser strings. Drizzt slowly undid the strings and gently pulled the trousers down as Catti-brie kicked her boots to the ground, her pants following close behind. She gently guided him on his back as she swung a leg and took her position over him.
"Just be careful," he whispered, looking up and savoring her beautiful form and that wonderful auburn hair; savoring everything that was Catti-brie.
She gently lowered herself and took him inside, her knee accidentally brushing his left hip and sending a slight twinge that made him wince. Catti-brie paused with a look of concern.
"It's fine," he said, "just continue."
She braced her arms on his shoulders and began her gentle thrust and felt the rush begin. Drizzt laid his head back into the feather pillow and relaxed, feeling the growing, blissful warmth traveling upwards from his phallus and spreading through the rest of his body. He let out a harsh sigh, his energy slowly returning the lingering effects of the potion fully dissipated. All the while, looking up and seeing Catti-brie in her most perfect form. Looking down at him with absolute affection as her gently thrusts became slightly faster and sweet sighs poured from those beautiful lips.
Catti-brie savored the flesh of the man she loved dearly; he she had been so distant from, he who she had almost lost, he who she was blissfully taking in now as she watched the peacefully happy look on his face and felt his soft hair between her fingers and soft lips brushing against her palm. It was a consummation of a beautiful love; a couple appreciating each other as if for the first time. Their bodies were united in this perfect moment, the heat spreading through both, sighs and moans being let go from their mouths as their hands explored each other's wonderful form.
Drizzt felt the tightness beginning to form in the lower part of his body as the rush was gradually building. His senses were caught in a beautiful, cosmic moment as he looked up at his beautiful Catti-brie and felt her flesh begin to tighten. He let out a series of long, harsh moans that joined in harmony with her lilting sighs growing harder. The two were now joined and the rush passed through both of them at the exact same moment.
The rush then faded, as both simply looked at each other and gave a happy comfortable smile. Catti-brie slowly withdrew and came to his side, her arm flopping over his chest as her head rested on his shoulder. He threaded an arm around her body and pulled her in, letting his cheek brush against her forehead.
The two lovers lay still, catching their breath and savoring the relaxing calm of each other's presence.
Author's Note: Next chapter, the conclusion of "Midsummer.