The Past Unfolds: Deception
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to RA Salvatore and TSR.
A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! Really, I'm trying but I've only just gotten back into Forgotten Realms with the book The Lone Drow which, by the way, is surprisingly like my own story meaning that Fallen from Grace is now an AU the stems from after Servant of the Shard. I will try my best to update more frequently, I've already got another chapter written I just don't have the ones leading up to it done. Anyway, please enjoy the next installation of Fallen from Grace!
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Metal clinked softly against metal as Bruenor, ever so carefully, removed fold after fold of the ceremonial armor that he had not worn since his coronation as King of Mithril Hall. It was a beautiful but ultimately impractical for anything other than show. It was far too heavy to wear for a great stretch of time and too elaborate to allow much freedom of movement. Bruenor placed it reverently over the chair beside him and turned back to retrieve the ornate helmet that went with it, this time with a twist of disdain to his lips, seriously considering wearing his own battered helm instead, but he knew he couldn't. Catti-brie was depending on him to be with her in this happy day and he had to put his personal discomfort aside for the moment. The item that followed was much plainer, a smith's apron (still, much too ornamental to be put to practical use. Who had designed this outfit, elves?). Fortunately he would not have to carry the five foot tall urgrosh that came with the set for his own axe, wielded in many campaigns, and had so great a history as to eclipse the shiny urgrosh.
Once everything ad been removed from the chest Bruenor closed it and surveyed all of the equipment, savoring his last few moments of freedom. A cold wind from the open window sent chills down his spine. Though it was only a small eddy, it held a promise of frigid death that only the wind of the aptly named Icewind Dale could offer. Its promise was somewhat lessened though, for Bruenor had spent the majority of his life here, though he had not lived here extensively for many years, too busy was he with the affairs of Mithril Hall. But of course those affairs would have to wait and all the dwarves left behind had given him their blessing to go to the Dale to see his daughter.
Bruenor lost himself in thought of the day to follow when suddenly a niggling doubt in the back of his head came to the forefront, an instinct that the trained warrior in him had been waving in front of his face trying to get his attention.
He never left the window open.
His error occurred to him in full when he felt a gloved hand clamp down over his mouth. He did the only thing he could do and bit down hard. He took some satisfaction in hearing a soft yelp of pain before diving for the urgrosh propped against the wall. Before he could even take a step a hand grabbed his upper arm and an all-too familiar voice chuckled, "Mielikki, Bruenor! Is this how you greet your friend after three years?"
"Drizzt?" Bruenor said, stunned. A helpless grin stretched across his face at the sight of his oldest and best friend but it was quickly checked by a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Yes, my friend," said, his voice soft yet filled with joy that was welling up like a spring. Bruenor began to think very fast. Drizzt had returned! The thought of it filled his heart with joy and trepidation at the same time. This could ruin everything, yet he did not think he could live with himself if he did not risk it, if he did not let Drizzt know. Yet again, the face of Catti-brie, smiling as she had not done since Wulfgar had died drifted across his mind and though the agony of lying to his friend burned him, his instincts as a father were too strong to be overcome.
If he had just come a year later, even a month! But he had not, and who knew what suffering would come of it, if the breach would ever be healed.
"Why so silent, Bruenor?" Drizzt inquired, a sense of unease creeping into the back of his mind at the disturbed expression on the dwarf's face. "Tell me," he pressed, hoping to put the dwarf in a talkative mood, "How fare's Catti-brie? And Regis? Tell me everything!"
Bruenor winced. It was just like Drizzt to get to the heart of the matter.
Drizzt went cold with fear, "Catti-brie, how fares Catti-brie, does she live?!" he shouted, grabbing Bruenor's shoulders, bringing his face level with the dwarf's.
A sense of self-loathing began to grow in Bruenor's heart as he pushed the panicked drow's hands from his shoulders, "Aye, the lass lives," he said and he saw some of the tension go out of Drizzt, "But…" he hesitated, could he really do this? Lie so blatantly to his best friend but then Drizzt's own words, said far away and long ago whispered in his mind. If you've ever loved Catti-brie… it tightened his resolve. Yes, for love of Catti-brie he could do this. "But… she's is not ready to see you, not yet."
"What do you mean?" asked Drizzt, honestly shocked, the shock quickly turning to incredulous anger. "It's been three years, Bruenor, four since Wulfgar died!" Bruenor winced at the mention of his boy but Drizzt pressed on, his hurt spurring his anger. "Even when we thought we had lost Wulfgar the first time, when Catti-brie was intended to be his bride she did not mourn this long!" unable to contain his mounting anger he turned from the silent dwarf and stared out the window which he had entered to the impassive stars. For a moment he said nothing but then just loud enough to be heard, Drizzt said in a choked voice, "I have to see her, Bruenor. She is all that kept me going these three years. So many times I almost came back, so desperate was I to hear her voice once more, to be close to her but always I kept myself from returning, for fear of her sanity…" he turned back to Bruenor. "Please Bruenor, let me see her. I will not go without your permission but I must know why you keep me from her."
It was all Bruenor could do to keep from blurting it out. This was torture of the greatest kind! He could see the honest pain in Drizzt's eyes and it hurt him like a dagger in the gut. Yet he could not say, he could not tell his best friend why he couldn't see his love! All he could do was concoct some foolish lie to drive him away for a month, or as long is it took for there to be no turning back. "Catti-brie… me girl's still not well Drizzt. She's close though," he said, his eyes softening slightly, "P'raps in a month or two. And she will be well enough t' see ye. The halfling is not here," the lies were bitter on his tongue. Rumblebelly would never forgive him if he found out, but it was all the dwarf could do to keep from telling Drizzt himself and he knew he could not convince Regis to keep it from Drizzt. "Not now, Drizzt, but soon," he finished lamely. Unable to meet the drow's eyes anymore he turned away, clasping his arms behind his back, "Ye'd best be going."
He turned back, his conscience forced him to at least apologize to his friend but Drizzt was already gone the way he had come, for the constant denial by his best friend on top of the concern that kept him from simply blowing past him to see Catti-brie had become to great. He had to be alone to think, and then who knows where. South again probably, to Luskan or further still, perhaps as far as Waterdeep. It didn't matter. He just had to get away. For love Catti-brie.
With a terrible weight of guilt on his soul, Bruenor turned back to the ceremonial laid out as if mocking him on the bed. As he began to fasten it on his thoughts turned once more to his daughter and her wedding, only a few hours hence.
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I feel affronted by people who read my work and don't even bother to drop a nice note saying how they felt as much as the next author. You know who you are. So please help a poor, striving authoress and tell her what you think! :)
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to RA Salvatore and TSR.
A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! Really, I'm trying but I've only just gotten back into Forgotten Realms with the book The Lone Drow which, by the way, is surprisingly like my own story meaning that Fallen from Grace is now an AU the stems from after Servant of the Shard. I will try my best to update more frequently, I've already got another chapter written I just don't have the ones leading up to it done. Anyway, please enjoy the next installation of Fallen from Grace!
-------------------
Metal clinked softly against metal as Bruenor, ever so carefully, removed fold after fold of the ceremonial armor that he had not worn since his coronation as King of Mithril Hall. It was a beautiful but ultimately impractical for anything other than show. It was far too heavy to wear for a great stretch of time and too elaborate to allow much freedom of movement. Bruenor placed it reverently over the chair beside him and turned back to retrieve the ornate helmet that went with it, this time with a twist of disdain to his lips, seriously considering wearing his own battered helm instead, but he knew he couldn't. Catti-brie was depending on him to be with her in this happy day and he had to put his personal discomfort aside for the moment. The item that followed was much plainer, a smith's apron (still, much too ornamental to be put to practical use. Who had designed this outfit, elves?). Fortunately he would not have to carry the five foot tall urgrosh that came with the set for his own axe, wielded in many campaigns, and had so great a history as to eclipse the shiny urgrosh.
Once everything ad been removed from the chest Bruenor closed it and surveyed all of the equipment, savoring his last few moments of freedom. A cold wind from the open window sent chills down his spine. Though it was only a small eddy, it held a promise of frigid death that only the wind of the aptly named Icewind Dale could offer. Its promise was somewhat lessened though, for Bruenor had spent the majority of his life here, though he had not lived here extensively for many years, too busy was he with the affairs of Mithril Hall. But of course those affairs would have to wait and all the dwarves left behind had given him their blessing to go to the Dale to see his daughter.
Bruenor lost himself in thought of the day to follow when suddenly a niggling doubt in the back of his head came to the forefront, an instinct that the trained warrior in him had been waving in front of his face trying to get his attention.
He never left the window open.
His error occurred to him in full when he felt a gloved hand clamp down over his mouth. He did the only thing he could do and bit down hard. He took some satisfaction in hearing a soft yelp of pain before diving for the urgrosh propped against the wall. Before he could even take a step a hand grabbed his upper arm and an all-too familiar voice chuckled, "Mielikki, Bruenor! Is this how you greet your friend after three years?"
"Drizzt?" Bruenor said, stunned. A helpless grin stretched across his face at the sight of his oldest and best friend but it was quickly checked by a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Yes, my friend," said, his voice soft yet filled with joy that was welling up like a spring. Bruenor began to think very fast. Drizzt had returned! The thought of it filled his heart with joy and trepidation at the same time. This could ruin everything, yet he did not think he could live with himself if he did not risk it, if he did not let Drizzt know. Yet again, the face of Catti-brie, smiling as she had not done since Wulfgar had died drifted across his mind and though the agony of lying to his friend burned him, his instincts as a father were too strong to be overcome.
If he had just come a year later, even a month! But he had not, and who knew what suffering would come of it, if the breach would ever be healed.
"Why so silent, Bruenor?" Drizzt inquired, a sense of unease creeping into the back of his mind at the disturbed expression on the dwarf's face. "Tell me," he pressed, hoping to put the dwarf in a talkative mood, "How fare's Catti-brie? And Regis? Tell me everything!"
Bruenor winced. It was just like Drizzt to get to the heart of the matter.
Drizzt went cold with fear, "Catti-brie, how fares Catti-brie, does she live?!" he shouted, grabbing Bruenor's shoulders, bringing his face level with the dwarf's.
A sense of self-loathing began to grow in Bruenor's heart as he pushed the panicked drow's hands from his shoulders, "Aye, the lass lives," he said and he saw some of the tension go out of Drizzt, "But…" he hesitated, could he really do this? Lie so blatantly to his best friend but then Drizzt's own words, said far away and long ago whispered in his mind. If you've ever loved Catti-brie… it tightened his resolve. Yes, for love of Catti-brie he could do this. "But… she's is not ready to see you, not yet."
"What do you mean?" asked Drizzt, honestly shocked, the shock quickly turning to incredulous anger. "It's been three years, Bruenor, four since Wulfgar died!" Bruenor winced at the mention of his boy but Drizzt pressed on, his hurt spurring his anger. "Even when we thought we had lost Wulfgar the first time, when Catti-brie was intended to be his bride she did not mourn this long!" unable to contain his mounting anger he turned from the silent dwarf and stared out the window which he had entered to the impassive stars. For a moment he said nothing but then just loud enough to be heard, Drizzt said in a choked voice, "I have to see her, Bruenor. She is all that kept me going these three years. So many times I almost came back, so desperate was I to hear her voice once more, to be close to her but always I kept myself from returning, for fear of her sanity…" he turned back to Bruenor. "Please Bruenor, let me see her. I will not go without your permission but I must know why you keep me from her."
It was all Bruenor could do to keep from blurting it out. This was torture of the greatest kind! He could see the honest pain in Drizzt's eyes and it hurt him like a dagger in the gut. Yet he could not say, he could not tell his best friend why he couldn't see his love! All he could do was concoct some foolish lie to drive him away for a month, or as long is it took for there to be no turning back. "Catti-brie… me girl's still not well Drizzt. She's close though," he said, his eyes softening slightly, "P'raps in a month or two. And she will be well enough t' see ye. The halfling is not here," the lies were bitter on his tongue. Rumblebelly would never forgive him if he found out, but it was all the dwarf could do to keep from telling Drizzt himself and he knew he could not convince Regis to keep it from Drizzt. "Not now, Drizzt, but soon," he finished lamely. Unable to meet the drow's eyes anymore he turned away, clasping his arms behind his back, "Ye'd best be going."
He turned back, his conscience forced him to at least apologize to his friend but Drizzt was already gone the way he had come, for the constant denial by his best friend on top of the concern that kept him from simply blowing past him to see Catti-brie had become to great. He had to be alone to think, and then who knows where. South again probably, to Luskan or further still, perhaps as far as Waterdeep. It didn't matter. He just had to get away. For love Catti-brie.
With a terrible weight of guilt on his soul, Bruenor turned back to the ceremonial laid out as if mocking him on the bed. As he began to fasten it on his thoughts turned once more to his daughter and her wedding, only a few hours hence.
---------------------------
I feel affronted by people who read my work and don't even bother to drop a nice note saying how they felt as much as the next author. You know who you are. So please help a poor, striving authoress and tell her what you think! :)
