Sisters in Spirit Part V

[senmut]

Dwarven Dedication (3,885 words) by ilyena_sylph & senmut
Fandom: Forgotten Realms/Legend of Drizzt
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Wulfgar son of Beornegar, Regis, Drizzt Do'Urden, Ensemble Cast
Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Female Friendship, Background Relationships
Series: Part 5 of Sisters in Spirit
Summary:

Clan is found, suggestions made, and food for thought is given

Dwarven Dedication

The place that was their destination did not look like much, with ivy overgrowing so much of the walls that they could see, and a door that look long-disused. Drizzt had held them back, surveying the clearing, much as the other three did on being stopped. Regis twitched nervously, while Wulfgar suspected magic ahead, and Bruenor was impatient to cross to the door, to find if they were in the right place.

None of them expected a dwarf, wearing clothing meant to blend into the foliage, to step out into view.

Micken rather wished First Sister had mentioned the gigantic human and the halfling, but... nothing for it. The dwarf certainly had the stamp of the clan, and wore his braids in the same style Halan had taught him when he became an adult. Besides, he bore a shield with the foaming mug, and a well-crafted axe. Micken bowed, deeper than he normally would, and said, "Greetings, me king. Ye be Bruenor Battlehammer. Me name be Micken Hamur."

Bruenor could not find words in that moment. He wanted to deny it, as he had all his people safe in the Dale, following Grollo's and Fender's leadership to prepare for a trek south if they succeeded.

But this man in forest clothes braided his hair the right way, spoke the words properly, and had the look of Grollo's kin. A niggling memory, something buried beneath the fog of the escape tried to come to the surface.

"Ye were but a babe, one of two born not long before... before we lost the Hall!" Bruenor accused, wondering what spell was at work now.

"I sense no spell on him," Drizzt said in a very quiet voice that barely reached Bruenor's ear, divining the need for that in the way his elf had.

"Aye, I was but a babe," Micken agreed. "Old Rook, Dhaeln Cragmaw, Halen Thrake, Bhastaem Leadmaker, and Ezrigith Minebuster brought me out o' the Hall in a sack -- kept the blasted sack, too, tae wave at me sometimes. We lost Old Rook afore I can remember, but Dhaeln's had most o' me raisin'."

"Dhaeln... aye, remember she was lookin' tae apprentice soon, an' rubbing me nose in it," Bruenor remembered, and felt a surge of something akin to new hope for the fact he had recalled that much. "Ye are of me clan, then, and welcome tae know ye!" Bruenor exclaimed. "But how came ye here, just as I be on me quest?

"Seems a bit odd, aye?"

Drizzt was noting that the new dwarf had not flinched at the sight of him, and was very curious. Was this yet another piece of the Lady's penance for turning him away?

"Nae, nae odd a'tall," Micken said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Silverymoon's Lady came tae where we live, tae ask me folk tae help ye as we can. I'm youngest an' strongest -- an' know these woods best -- so here I be. I couldnae no come, could I?"

Ahh, so it was, Drizzt noted, a small smile trying to touch his lips. How deep her compassion for his pain, and his friend's quest, ran.

"T'was the Lady, was it?" Bruenor asked, side-eyeing his elf a long moment. "Didnae think tae say, for us refusin' the healin' potions?" he demanded. Regis had to giggle at that, even as Wulfgar looked contemplatively at Drizzt.

"It didn't seem important at the time," Drizzt said in turn. "As to your timely arrival, Saer, we are to seek the Herald within this unassuming stone and ivy tower, but if you and yours remember, perhaps we do not need to disturb the Herald?"

"But we don't," Micken replied, shaking his head. "Dhaeln's tried a hundred times if she's tried once, an' those as found us tried, tae know what had driven old an' babes an' wounded from our home... but howe'er we got out o' the Hall, we'll no' get back in that way. Naught but bare rock an' scree behind us, even wi' the blood trail tae follow."

Bruenor made a sound of frustration, but Wulfgar dropped a hand on him in comfort.

"Fear not, Bruenor, for the frustration this moment is, and lean more into having word that your clan continues to survive," the big man said. "Come and let us knock upon the door, and see what the Lady has offered to us in recompense for her judgment at her city."

"Aye, lad, aye." He focused on Micken. "Join us then. This be Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, and that be Regis Rumblebelly, both of which be me friends. Me elf's name is Drizzt Do'Urden, and a finer friend I cannae ask for."

"Pleased tae meet ye all," Micken replied, nodding to each in turn, before a corner of his mouth turned up as he looked at Drizzt for a moment, then back to Bruenor. "There be some elves as would be right angry tae hear ye call him so, but I suppose as it's truth."

He then turned back to study Drizzt more intently, remembering some of Ellifain's nightmare-screams and wondering... but that couldn't be, could it? Not when he carried his own First Sister's name as well. He saw the blades -- fine ones, at that -- but... no symbols of the Dark Maiden at all?

Gods of his fathers, how alone had this one been all these years?

"Elves that cannae see what a man me friend is, have nae business bein' near me then!" Bruenor declared.

"Caution, my friend, as you may yet need to make such alliances, to regain what is rightfully yours," Drizzt cautioned.

"I'll convince all of the tribes to come south, my teacher, before we accept aid from any that cannot see the mettle you are made of," Wulfgar declared. "I was such an idiot once, to my shame, and will tolerate it in no others."

Micken decided he liked the big barbarian for that, and nodded. "Aye... 'tis best tae judge by what one does, an' nae how they were born," he said. "Learned that, with me folk. But we're standin' about on th' Herald's doorstep, me king, when ye've the clan's business tae be about."

Drizzt was curious about the folk being mentioned, as he kept getting an impression there was more than the hand of dwarves involved.

Bruenor stomped up to the door, looking all about at it, not seeing a pull rope or a proper knocker. He gave it a thump with the broad side of his axe, not liking how it seemed to have not moved in a century.

Wulfgar, after a moment, decided to test the door... and it swung open invitingly, at a gentle push.

"Either we're expected, or this is a trap," Regis opined.

"Could be both," Drizzt said cheerfully, before grandly bowing and gesturing for Bruenor to enter first.

Micken chuckled, and followed them in. He definitely thought he liked this group.

---

There was food and there had been plans made, but Micken noticed the hunger in the drow ranger's eyes, at being surrounded by knowledge, and having no hope of reading it, for all that Old Night was being genial to Drizzt.

With Bruenor to go into the Hall of Dwarves, while Wulfgar and Regis rested or merely waited, it didn't seem completely fair.

"Do ye have naught o' the Dark Maiden's people, for the ranger?" Micken asked Old Night, his head tilted. "Sure an' I know they have tae hide, but even from ye?"

The Herald paused and considered the drow in their midst. "I see quite plainly the glow of a unicorn beneath your tunic, and the subtle ripple of its mane and tail in threading of your cloak, Drizzt Do'Urden. But if you wish to learn the tale of Corellon's Daughter, She Who Brings Hope to the race you were born as, I am certain I have at least one tome set near the end of the War of the Elves."

"I... know nothing of this that you speak of," Drizzt said. "Pray see Bruenor to his Quest, though, and I will wait for that tome, rather than ask every question I now have."

Micken had known it had to be, but still, to hear him say he knew nothing of the Dark Maiden... Micken ached for him. And even with his curiosity wakened, still he was willing to stand aside for his friend, Micken's king. He was a good person, this Drizzt Do'Urden.

"Come, then," Old Night said, "I have done much of the research already. I found only one tome that spoke of Mithral Hall... but perhaps you will make more of the words than I could, chieftain."

"May it be so. And mayhaps, once me Hall is found and me elf is free, he can pay a visit tae have his questions heard," Bruenor said, firmly, as he knew his friend was off-balance. He wondered just what Micken knew that his worldly friend did not.

"You would be welcome," Old Night said directly to Drizzt, before he moved them on to the library, and to what awaited Bruenor.

Drizzt gave Micken a look, wondering if this newcomer in his life would answer those questions as they camped, once they left this place. And why did a dwarf know anything about someone attached to the drow?

---

Listening to Bruenor speak of Settlestone, and then seeing Drizzt draw out a potion that could make him walk in memory again, Micken put out a hand. "Wait, me king," he called, urgently. "I c'n lead ye tae Settlestone. Would it no be better tae take the potion when you're close tae it? Rather than have three days hard travel fer it tae wear off?"

"Ye know where'n it be, then I'm all for lettin' ye lead on," Bruenor said. "Better that than relyin' on magic given tae try and make up for being cruel to me elf."

"Bruenor, she had to think of her people first," Drizzt said wearily, as there had been a few small gibes at the Lady's aid now it was known she was behind the gifts. "I am certain as a ruler, you understand that."

"Aye, mayhaps, but as a friend, I call it foul."

Micken had to nod agreement with that, because he'd hold a grudge if Silverymoon's Lady had turned away one of their folk, no matter the reason, and no matter that any of the drow of Spirit Sanctuary would likely respond just as Drizzt was. "Like as no', ye'll still need it, me king. We've nae known how tae get from th' ruins back tae our home."

"Then off we go, and ye take the lead, lad," Bruenor said. "Know ye can; I depend on yer kinsman Grollo tae keep things in hand for me."

"A good dwarf," Wulfgar said, to reinforce that bit of family praise. He then checked on Regis, who seemed to be doing well, if still entirely too quiet.

Drizzt brought up the rear of the party as they set out, keeping his thoughts to himself whenever they passed a tree scored by drow sigils along the way.

Micken had bid farewell to the strange human and set out, moving as quickly as he could. It was late, the moon riding high, but he could see just fine. The blazes kept him on course -- not that it would be easy for him to become lost on this route in any case. "We'll be tae the old ford about dawn," he told them, "if we keep a fast enough pace. 'Tis a marvel, me king, an' I donnae fully ken how 'twas made."

"Dwarven works, lad. We set our mind tae building what is needed, and out it comes," Bruenor assured him. "Wasnae fords in Icewind Dale, as much as tunnels that would open even if snow and ice was above, without dumping it on us. Learned tae make steam-pressured jacks as would push the outermost doors up and out, dumping what was on them, a'fore the inner door was opened tae let us out.

"All it takes is seein' the problem tae solve, and puttin' our heads to it."

Micken considered that and nodded. "Those would be summat tae see," he replied, "an' we've managed some fair things, wi' our folk, but... th' water is a mystery."

He kept to his brisk pace, falling quiet again.

Again, that 'our folk' that implied a larger number than a handful of dwarves, Drizzt noted. He was growing very curious about Micken's life in this region that looked like it should be a ripe place for orcs and goblins alike.

The pace kept them moving, though at one point Wulfgar took pity on Regis, letting him ride pick-a-back to rest his legs. Drizzt kept his senses out, worried that they hadn't had a serious setback in days, while Bruenor marched alongside Micken with ease.

They came out of some of the trees onto the banks of a river that appeared to be deep, wide, and quite swift, just after the sun rose. Micken found a spot to remove his boots, slung them around his neck by their laces, and folded his pants up to his knees -- before he casually walked down the bank and onto the water, which rose only about to his ankles.

"Magic!"

Bruenor chuckled at Wulfgar's declaration. "Nay, lad. Engineering," Bruenor told him. "Boats must not come this far, or else couldnae have done this," he added, taking his own boots off to follow Micken. "Well, c'mon then! The lot of ye need tae be moving."

Drizzt gave one more look to his surroundings, decided the ford was easier than tree leaping, and followed the example of removing his boots first. He even gathered the hem of his cloak up, catching it on his sword belt. Wulfgar obeyed, but made Regis go ahead of him so he took the rear this time.

Micken trotted across on the stone of the ford and got up onto the grass, sitting down to dry off his feet on the hem of his cloak and then put his socks and boots back on. "Now we go this way a quarter-mile and we'll be on what's left of the road to Settlestone. Much faster, that way."

The others got their boots back on, and Drizzt lingered at the rear, wondering why his nerves were telling him to beware. Was it the strangeness of having a different guide? Was it the feeling of being in lands not dissimilar to where he'd first learned to be a ranger, knowing that the hills and crags could hide a number of threats?

Was it tied back to the fact Regis still had not told why he joined them on the road in truth?

Whatever it was, he had to fight to remain loose in his skin, not wired to the tautness of constant paranoia.

---

Finding the road finally let Wulfgar convince Bruenor they should rest. By mid-afternoon, they were back on their way, with Micken comfortable enough on the trace of a broken road that Drizzt was more focused on the back-trail.

They set camp at midnight, and set back out with the morning, at which point all of Drizzt's warnings came to a screeching shrill scream he could no longer ignore or push away. With the sun high, his eyes were at a loss, but Wulfgar —

"Wulfgar, turn to speak to me and see what you see on our trail," Drizzt called in a low voice, knowing the Reghedmen were keen-eyed to make out the slightest change of their hostile land, and that Wulfgar had been correcting for the trees and hills as they went.

Wulfgar waited only a moment, and then turned to say casually, "There looks to be good hunting here," as his eyes swung over the ground behind them in a long arc. It was a long arc that stopped with a flare of horror and sickened loathing before he finished the casual look and focused on his teacher.

"Something vile, teacher," he said, much much softer. "Near giant-height, but mismatched and stuck-together." He looked again, but the thing... was gone?

No, he had seen it. He had not imagined a thing taller than he was, broad as Regis was tall. "I see nothing now, but it was there."

Drizzt closed his eyes, listening to the land as Montolio had taught him, and yes, his instincts and Wulfgar's appraisal agreed with the wilds.

He scanned the terrain ahead, and noted a rise.

"Bruenor!" he called loudly, as the pair of dwarves were far enough ahead to warrant it. "My eyes are aching; rest in the lee of that hill to give me relief?" He noted Regis had stiffened slightly; his halfling friend was more than smart enough to understand the true matter. Only, would Bruenor, in his driven need to find his home, catch on quickly enough.

"Och, elf, ye and yer weak eyes, but aye. No doubt Rumblebelly needs the rest an' yer covering for him!" Bruenor called back, changing their course.

Wulfgar snorted, and Micken followed the change of course, off the road and into the shade -- but even with as little time as he had known Drizzt Do'Urden, he did not believe that was a true statement. Nor did he think it was a cover for the tired halfling. What was really going on? He did not ask, only moving to watch the trail behind them.

Once they were together in the shade, Wulfgar said very quietly, "Some monstrous thing trails us."

"Where there are such creatures," Drizzt said, just as soft, "there is a wizard or a cleric."

"What's yer plan, me elf?" Bruenor asked. "Day's too bright for yer cat tae manage tae hide and get around behind them."

"And bright enough that I knew to try and look that way would do me no good," Drizzt agreed. "No, I shall not call Guen as yet.

"We'll take the rest, and then one of us will crest the hill as if to see the way we must go next."

"I will take that risk, my friend," Wulfgar said. "I have taken the breath of Icingdeath more than once; I can manage a spell thrown my way."

"Hmm, I think not," Drizzt said, patting the cat-hilt of the sword named for that unlamented dragon. "As it is likely to be a fireball, thinking to blind me further, if the wizard casts. Your people are made for ice, not fire."

Micken made a curious noise, but then, magical protections for various things were not unknown to him. "There's the whole of Fourthpeak and half of Third between us and my folk, but I can call for help," he said, pulling the enchanted whistle out from under the layers of his tunic. "We donnae like comin' down intae this region -- the ruins feel... haunted... but I ken the land well enough tae help us hide from whatever comes 'til help can come..."

Drizzt looked from him to Bruenor.

"A good thought, lad, but... cannae be a large party, or me elf would have spotted them a'fore now," Bruenor said. "Ye go up, invite the attack in a few minutes. Nae attack, Micken, me boy here, and meself start pushing on to the goal." He pinned Regis with a look. "Ye two follow a bit after, and we'll be ready tae turn back for ye."

"Giving distance between us, and a better chance at pulling a party we may outnumber into the open," Drizzt agreed. "Regis, you and I always manage as a team, so fear not."

"What if they don't charge?" Regis asked.

"We make the next set of trees, and Guen comes to shadow us," Drizzt offered.

This kept getting more interesting, but Micken would do as his king bid, and wait to call until he saw the odds. Wizards were tricky, and clerics could be very dangerous. Plus some kind of monster? This was worse than just dealing with raiding bands of orcs and goblins, even when those had a shaman with them.

---

"How long are we just going to shadow them?" Jierdan hissed at Entreri. "I say we should let the construct go out and set the battle here and now! You can take the halfling, we get the drow, and the rest... can be dealt with."

"Jierdan's right. We have no idea what they could be leading us into, what arrangements they've made since the other dwarf joined them," Sydney said. "The sun favors us, if you fear the drow's prowess."

Entreri sneered at that, and cast a look at their 'guest'. "Fear is not an emotion I know, mage." He did consider a bit more, eyes burning into Catti-brie, daring her to let out a single sound, even as he toyed with his dagger. "When they move again, we will, before they make the tree line ahead."

Catti-brie glared right back at her captor, afraid of him, but knowing her Da's life, her friends' lives, were now on the line. And unfortunately, she thought Entreri was counting on her to try to warn them, to throw their battle rhythm off, knowing she was in enemy hands.

She knew that the rhythm would change... and her ranger would become all the more deadly for it.

---

Drizzt decided to give the other three a long while after he surveyed from the hill and no attack came. He wanted them as close to the trees that lined the rise Micken thought was the last before Dwarvendarrow would be in view.

It would put both dwarves out of the line of fighting if the creature and mage showed themselves, but not Wulfgar. Nor should any pursuit truly know that, given Aegis-fang's abilities were not — yet — widely known.

"Regis."

The halfling looked up at him, more than faintly worried.

"Who or what is pursuing you?"

"No one with magic, and someone who usually works alone!" Regis said swiftly, before his brow knotted under the steady, compassionate gaze of his friend. "An assassin. At least as fast as you, and just as skilled, but with no morals holding him back."

"He may or may not be in this party," Drizzt reasoned. "I do not know why there is pursuit, outside of you having fled Ten Towns with us.

"If they attack, my friend, keep yourself safe. I have faith in you, but I do not want you taken prisoner, or worse, if the assassin is with whomever controls the creature."

Regis felt shame, for that very gentle speech his way, knowing he didn't deserve this ranger's friendship in the least, and maybe if he'd spoken earlier, it would have been ended faster.

"I will, Drizzt. I promise."

With that said, Drizzt took stock of his swords, then actually pulled the bow instead, stringing it for use. His heavier arrows were situated where he could fire at least two, maybe three, and he had to be thankful to Old Night for allowing him to replenish his quiver from stock that had been left at the Holdfast.

He'd lost too-damned many of them dealing with the bog blokes and in the Troll Moors.

"Let's go."

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX
* Links will work as parts are revealed