The haircut
AN: This story takes place a year or two before the Icewind Dale Trilogy. And this is why Drizzt still only has his ordinary, unnamed scimitars. In celebration of my first haircut in three years... Completely random, and pretty pointless…
Catti-brie watched as Drizzt, having left the warm stream only moments earlier, was roughly drying his hair with a piece of cloth, dressed only in his leggings - clinging to his still damp skin - and shook his head lightly to get rid of last droplets, before reaching into the pack and retrieving a primitive comb. The human girl could not help a wince as she watched him start brushing his long mane, roughly pulling the comb through the strands and merely pulled harder when encountering a bangle, more often than not with the result that the hairs snapped.
'''Tis no wonder yer hair looks like 't came out o' the arse o' an orc from time to time," she commented, crossing her arms and glared at the drow, who turned to look at her in surprise. ''Ye, me friend, is gonna get a haircut - gods know ye need it!"
''A haircut?" Drizzt asked with a blink.
''Haircut!" the young woman repeated with a vigorous nod. ''Meet me back with th'others in a few minutes."
Drizzt nodded in agreement, too surprised to refuse, and, some ten minutes later, trudged through the small, makeshift camp he and Catti-brie had built. Regis was sitting at one side of the burning fire, chewing on what the drow estimated was the halfling's third breakfast. Opposite him sat Catti-brie, who looked up with a grin when the drow elf approached, and made a snipping motion with the scissors she held.
Regis gave a sympatric look to Drizzt as the elf sat down on the ground, and Catti-brie moved over to sit behind him.
''Ye got nice hair, Drizzt. 'Tis a shame ye ain't trying harder ta keep it," Catti-brie commented, as her hands began combing through the white mane, gently untangling the strands until the drow's hair hung thick and smooth down his back. "Ye ought ta do more ta it, ye know. Many would love ta have hair like ye."
''It's' just hair..." Drizzt slowly said, eyeing the scissors lying on the ground, and felt a small pang of discomfort course through him. The last time his hair had been throughout attended to had been the day before his graduation from the Melee-Magthere.
Catti-brie was oblivious to his thoughts, however, and gave a few more strokes to his hair, before reaching for the scissors.
The first snip startled the drow, but his light flinch did not pass unnoticed by the human, and she dropped the scissors to the ground in favor of reaching forward and clasping the sides of Drizzt's face, turning it towards one of the large stones near which they had made their camp.
''Rock. Look at it, an' don't look anywhere else 'till I'm done, even if a groups o' yetis appear an' charges Regis," she ordered, before taking up the scissors and smoothened the hair of her friend, before bringing the joined blades to bear again.
Snip, they said, and Drizzt felt the sharp edge against his back. Snip, snip, snip, and he watched as a tuft of white hair was caught by the wind and blown over the grass. He prayed that at least some would remain on his head by the time Catti-brie was done...
Snip, snip, snip, and her hands paused to brush loose hair away from his back.
''No wonder yer hair was so thick!" she exclaimed, dropping a handful of hair to the ground. "Half o' it's loose hair - 'tis a wonder yer head ain't killing ye with all that weight."
Many minutes passed before Catti-brie was finally satisfied, and brushed the last loose hair from him and rose to her feet. She walked around him, and made a few adjustments to the hair hanging into his face, before giving a grinning nod.
"There we are! Much better!" she said, grabbed the drow's hand and pulled him to his feet, then walked around him again. "Much, much better! Ye oughta done this years ago, Drizzt!"
"I have to agree with that!" came Regis' reply, before the Halfling swallowed. "You suddenly look like a normal elf, rather than a wild elf!"
"And that's a bad thing?" Drizzt asked, melancholy running a hand through the suddenly much thinner and less tangled strands on his head, feeling the odd sensation of actually being able to slide his fingers all the way through without meeting resistance, and watched as the many loose, white hairs were taken by the wind and scattered over the grass like a strange kind of snow. At least Catti-brie had left his hair long enough to reach past his shoulders, although it felt odd not having it reach his waist any more.
He just hoped that his neck would adjust to the change of weight quickly, as he felt quite silly trying to keep his head from falling forwards with the lack of pull his hair had made previously...