Chapter 10
While the others were wary, Aragorn seemed rather smug as he flicked blood off his blade. "You're safe now my lady." He held his hand out to her to help her up, acting like… Drizzt wasn't sure what he was acting like but it put her on edge. She suspected he was trying to seduce her again. What had Naomi called it? 'Macho behavior' if she recalled correctly. Drizzt didn't like it.
"I can get up on my own," she said, rising to her feet. "And I could have killed it on my own if someone would give me a weapon. You've even armed the hobbits when they barely know one end from the other and yet you won't even let me have a knife to cut my food." Frodo - the only hobbit to understand her Sindarin - seemed a bit upset at her characterization. She didn't apologize. He was part of the problem, always treating her like delicate glass.
The beast was apparently a warg from Legolas's explanation to the hobbits in Westron. More intelligent and darker-natured than a wolf, whatever a wolf was. Despite the danger the attack was refreshing in a way. It was something she knew how to deal with. People made her… uncomfortable. It was something she'd picked up as a child and continued on in this life in unexpected ways. The female elves in Rivendell reminded her in appearance of the females of her homeland. The males, regardless of species, reminded her of them in actions.
It was mostly little things. Lustful glances, the general condescension, their confidence in their own strength as the larger, more muscular sex. Thankfully none save Aragorn had gone so far as to even touch her hand, possibly thanks to Arwen's intimidating father. Still, they worried her, and she wished dearly that Guenhwyvar was with her as she journeyed in the company of twelve men. At least back in Menzoberranzan there had been other men to hide behind when priestesses and other high-ranking females came looking for sexual conquests. That and a carefully cultivated frostiness had kept them away, even as her (then his) status and skill with blades had helped keep lower-ranked females at bay.
It hadn't bothered her to be called the Do'Urden Ice Prince. What was annoying was that she couldn't seem to gain the same reputation here, in large part due to language difficulties. No matter what she did the hobbits seemed to think she was 'cute,' a word whose meaning escaped her but she apparently shared the descriptor with fluffy-tailed rabbits and squirrels. Considering those animals were soon killed and eaten with great gusto the adjective did not put her at all at ease.
Shaking her head out of musing she caught more yellow eyes in the darkness beyond the clearing. Growls came from them but they drew back after an arrow from Legolas produced a yelp. "We should head for Moria," said Gimli. "Safety is but a swift march away."
"Where there are wargs, orcs are rarely far behind," added Aragorn. "What say you, Frodo."
Again they were letting the halfling decide our course. She knew he was a lord or the like of halflings but was it possible his race were the rulers of the surface world? She giggled at the thought, much to the concern of her companions. Let alone rule, hobbits never would have even survived in the Underdark, not unless some subterranean race chose to raise them as livestock.
"We head to Moria," said Frodo. And despite Drizzt's unvoiced opinion that they should fortify camp until daylight, they did.