Drizzt woke in darkness. He opened his eyes and using his infrared vision, scanned the room. He was in a small cell. He lay crumpled up in one corner. The door was opposite him. Drizzt tried to sit up, but fell back from the pain both in his left shoulder and his abdomen where he had been kicked. Drizzt groaned at the throbbing pain coming from his shoulder. With shaking fingers, he reached up and felt the crossbow bolt still sticking out. For a moment he considered pulling it out, but then decided against it. Removing the arrow would only tear the flesh more, and cause more blood to flow. Drizzt's mind whirled, trying to remember the sequence of events that had landed him in this predicament. Suddenly it clicked. Inriole. He had brought the girl to the human town, and he had been shot. The men had taken Inriole but not before…Drizzt swore. He had told Inriole that he was drow. She had still held his hand though. Drizzt had to hope that if he ever got out of this cell alive, Inriole wouldn't hate him.
Drizzt didn't know where she had been taken, but he wanted to find out. Grunting as pain flamed through his arm, Drizzt sat up, braced against the wall. "Hey!" he shouted. "Guards!" There was no reply. Drizzt slid his back up against the wall until he stood. "Guards!" he yelled again. This time, he heard the creak of a door. Torchlight entered his cell, and with it came an old woman, who carried a large basket over one arm. She glanced over her shoulder as she came in, then clicked her tongue.
"Come along, ducky," she said. "Bring the torch in here for an old woman to see." A guard entered behind her, paused long enough to set a torch in a wall bracket and glare angrily at Drizzt before stomping back out.
He pulled the door shut after him, saying, "Knock when you're finished woman, and I'll let you out." The old crone nodded her white-haired head, and walked to the middle of the cell.
"Let's have a look at you, ducky." As Drizzt lifted his head to meet her gaze, the old woman chuckled. "To be sure, this is the first time old Orwen's been asked to doctor up a drow elfie. Oh, yes." At this mention of her name, Drizzt started.
"You're Orwen?" he asked. "The healer?"
The old woman bobbed her head, while setting her basket down on the cold floor. "That be me, elfie. Tell me, how's a dark elf knowin' of me?"
"Inriole," Drizzt gasped, his strength fading from the effort it took to remain standing. "The elf child. She said you knew her mother."
Orwen nodded again. "Oh yes. I'm knowin' all the elves in their forest." She reached out, and as Drizzt's feet began to slip on the dank and mouldy floor, she grabbed his right arm and guided him to the ground. Orwen knelt next to him and touched his wounded shoulder. Drizzt hissed in pain and flinched away. "Don't worry, ducky, Orwen will fix you up." Saying this , Orwen put one hand on the bolt of the crossbow and with the other pulled Drizzt's shoulder forward from the wall. "It's got to come out, ducky. But we can't pull it. No, we can't. Nasty barbs would tear you apart. But it's got to come out. Don't you worry."
Having made her speech, Orwen steadied her grip on the arrow's shaft and began to push. Drizzt couldn't help but scream at the pain. His entire arm felt like it was on fire. By the time the bolt was halfway out, the dark elf had blacked out from the pain. Orwen continued to extract the bolt, and muttering to herself all the while began to staunch the bleeding.
As Drizzt opened his eyes the excruciating pain in his shoulder rushed back into his consciousness. He groaned, and tried to look around. The first thing his eyes fell on were the blood-stained hands of the healer. "Glad you woke up, ducky. I was afeared that ye might not." As she half-turned away from the prone drow, she muttered, "The magistrate would not be happy with me then, no he would not." She chuckled to herself.
"The magistrate?" Drizzt asked.
"Oh yes, ducky. Magistrate Bracken's the one who's makin' me heal you. He wants you nice and healthy for the hanging."
"Hanging?" Drizzt gasped. "For what crime?"
"For murder, and kidnapping, and the crimes of your race, drow," the old woman replied looking surprised that Drizzt cared.
Drizzt protested, "But I have done nothing! Do I not get a trial?"
"That's over and done with, drow. Right after you were brought in."
Drizzt was speechless at the injustice of his situation. Orwen however, continued on. "Funny," she said, glancing down at her bloody hands. "I always thought drow would bleed black, or something." She laughed quietly and turned to leave.
"Wait," Drizzt rasped, his voice almost gone. "What of the elven girl? Is she alright?"
"Why, of course, ducky. She's with me! Poor little thing, all alone with a crazy dark elf." She suddenly turned and spat at Drizzt. "You think that blinding her is funny, do you ducky? She'll be like that forever. There's no cure." She spat again, but this time into the other corner. As she shuffled toward the cell door, Drizzt heard her say, "Imagine, ducky. Eight hundred years, and never seeing the light again." Orwen raised he gnarled hand, and rapped on the heavy wooden door.
As the guard outside turned the key in the lock, Drizzt said, "Please. Please Orwen. I need to see her. I need to speak with Inriole." Though the guard held the door open for her, the healer did not go through it. She paused. "Please, Orwen," Drizzt repeated. "I need to see her."
The old woman began to nod her head slowly. "Alright. You'll be seeing her later. But she'll not be seeing you. Remember that, drow." Orwen began to shuffle through the door. "Remember what you've done to her."
As the door clanked shut, robbing the room of all traces of light, for Orwen had taken the torch with her, Drizzt spoke softly to himself.
"Don't worry. I'll never forget what I've done to her."