Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Drizzt Do'Urden or any other characters or settings copyrighted to RA Salvatore or that is part of the Forgotten Realms. The only thing I claim ownership of is the story idea and any original characters in this story.

Credits: Nizzre belongs to me.

AN: Hmmm, sorry this took so long. I started it, and then had computer problems. --; Blah to that. So, it is going to be rather short, more then I would like anyway. Anyway, RR, whatever.

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Chapter Two

As morning crept by, Nizzre felt his hopes rise up once again. He darted off to the side, trailing his companions as they continued on their own path. He could see Wulfgar's large form, and even Regis' small features from his vantage point. His father was on the other side, doing his own trailing with the black panther Guenhwyvar.

Nizzre watched them for several moments, contemplating the scene and wondering what would happen when he encountered them. It certainly would end in him being sent back to Ten-Towns, most likely with a sore body and an even sorer pride. His eyes swept over, in the direction they were heading. He knew the general area they were going, from the maps back at the complex… A smile broke out across his youthful face.

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Drizzt looked about, narrowing his keen eyes. He had seen movement in the wilderness nearby, and went at a silent dash to catch whatever it was. The footprints were small when he spotted them, that of a child most likely, and surely not a yeti or giant. "Peculiar indeed…" he whispered to the panther, holding back a smile.

There was only one child who would have likely followed the route they were taking. Nizzre. "Stubborn child, isn't he?" Drizzt commented, as he came back toward the main path. The panther let out a yowl.

"See something?" Regis asked curiously, as the other Companions of the Hall watched him. Drizzt shook his head, his light footsteps stopping. He didn't wish to alarm them with the news that their young charge had gone against all their wishes and gone on his own adventure; at least, not until he knew how the youngling was.

"Ye rushed off quickly, elf," Bruenor commented. Drizzt put his hands up, a smile on his face as they watched him. He shook his head again, his white hair shifting with the movement.

"I had thought I'd heard something, but I was mistaken," he replied, as Cattie-Brie exchanged skeptical looks with Regis and Wulfgar, and shrugged. He stepped lightly across, and over to his original sentinel placement, the panther shadowing him. "There is nothing to worry about."

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Entreri crouched down in the dark shadow cast by the mountaintops, as Jarlaxle and he surveyed the area. The pass was an hours walk from their position, and looked bare. With only a whisper of sound, the drow elf passed him and gracefully scaled one of the trees. He looked about, before following.

"Anything?" he asked in the hand code that was one of the communications of the dark elves. It made use of intricate movements of the hands, and used a precision that very few humans like him could grasp and manage. Jarlaxle replied in the same fashion, making the motion for a negative answer, and started back down.

"We have a clear road," Jarlaxle said, as his feet touched the ground. Entreri landed next to him, his hands at his dagger and sentient sword defensively. Even if all appeared well, danger could come at them at any moment, either in the form of rogue humans or a mountain giant.

"For such a weapon, the thieves are going to a strange place to sell it, if that is what they are going to do," the human remarked, taking to the lightly treaded path. Jarlaxle came up behind him, watching for any that tried to approach them.

"If this weapon is so wondrous as that merchant made it seem, selling it in Luskan or some other city would be disastrous for them. They'd be caught easily," the drow pointed out, as his companion scowled. Entreri had to admit that it was likely the reasoning the bandits had for running to the frozen tundra of Icewind Dale.

He didn't have to like it though.

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Hours went by, then days. Nizzre peaked out across the pass from behind his hiding spot, his eyes narrowed. There were almost always rogues about, ready to ambush any that came through, and he knew he would be no exception to that.

There was laughter floating to his ears from somewhere in the pass; the sound was humored, light, and also sounded arrogant. He slithered around the rocks, keeping low to the ground and his feet silent and graceful for a drow child. Nizzre, though having an intelligence of his own, was like any other child that was allowed to grow and learn; he had a curiosity that most denizens of the Underdark didn't have the wonder of having.

He blinked, as he came up on a brightly-lit camp that was situated in a wooded patch of the mountainous path. There were several wide shouldered forms hunched around the fire, laughing as one of them put on a show about one of his supposed exploits. Nizzre ducked back down, and mulled over what to do.

If he went in, he could take down as many of those as he could and save his adoptive family some trouble. On the other hand, he could also make more trouble for them if he failed. Of course it isn't something I can use a coin to answer.

Unsheathing the short sword at his hip, Nizzre looked at the shiny blade, his eyes narrowed. With a smirk typical of the drow, he dashed off.

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"She loved it! I didn't even have to pay the wench…" They roared with laughter, as one of their companions retold a tale of one of the happenings in one of the southern towns. It was a nightly occurrence for them; one would guard the booty, while the rest would sit and listen to stories and gloating about their good fortune.

"Bah, who cares about some woman? When are we going to be able to go get a lot of them with that mighty weapon we have out back?" one of them asked, bringing about a silence. They looked at each other warily, and around the surrounding area. The weapon in question was in a small tent with the rest of their treasures, all of which were stolen from cities such as Luskan and Waterdeep.

"We," the leader of them replied, his voice low and threatening, "are going to sell it for gold, and be gone from here. We, will be going to Silverymoon with the loot and will live the lives of kings!"

A cheer went up amongst them in agreement, as the questioner scowled and sat back. He was not pleased.

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