![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
A Little Bit of Drizzt
Jan. 3rd, 2023 05:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senmutA Little Bit of Drizzt (800 words) by senmut
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Characters: Mielikki, Montolio DeBrouchee, Drizzt Do'Urden, Guenhwyvar, Dove Falconhand, Qilué Veladron, Azalar Falconhand
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant and Non-Canon Compliant
Summary:
I make few demands on My followers. Honestly, most of them are slow to ask Me for much of anything. The rangers I attract, the druids that choose Me, seem to all be of a very stubborn, self-reliant streak.
It is amusing, but it means I do have to pay a bit more attention. Especially in the case of a particular drow.
Honestly, he takes self-reliance to an extreme that would be endearing if it didn't imperil his life so often.
Yet, I will never regret My choice. Even if it does provoke the Dark Maiden, that I stole him.
Montolio walked alongside his student, Hooter above them. "There is a trick to picking the wood for a bow," he said, and began explaining what to look for to Drizzt. "You have to learn archery if you're going to be an elf of the surface. Just wouldn't do to leave the gap in your weapons."
Drizzt laughed brightly, but his eyes were already scanning. "I will learn anything you wish to teach me, my friend."
"Hmph, careful. There are things I think you're too young to even think about learning," Montolio teased him, getting another laugh.
It was a good day, and he had a fine student, Montolio decided. There might not be many more of them to come, and Drizzt needed all the help he could get.
Montolio would give him all he could, and then make the boy promise to go out into the world to use it.
Dove Falconhand had kept abreast of the rumors of the drow ranger who helped, even if the tales often implied evil, dire things about the ranger.
She knew better.
When they suddenly ceased to turn up at all, she asked the harpers to keep their ears out just in case.
Qilué Veladorn, on the other hand, had turned her inquiries out to her people, as word trickled back to The Promenade about a drow who worked openly. Learning the rumors and sightings had vanished left her distraught.
Why had her Lady never guided them to him?
Would they ever meet?
I do not know what drives him to be as he is, but I cannot deny that Artemis Entreri is a mirror unto me. He shows my skill, the fullness of being the best swordsman, the most cunning tactician, and the most ruthless planner of battles.
Yet there, the reflection begins to waver, warped as if the silver lining has begun to change and flake.
I hold my morals, my friends, my duty above all other considerations. I will do nothing that does not keep me in good standing on all three concerns.
Entreri is the drow Matron Malice wished me to be. And I am just as relieved to be anything but that. He knows no love, does not seem to take joy in his skill, and even the pride he shows in it is … driven by something lacking passion.
May he someday find reason to feel.
— Drizzt Do'Urden
Guenhwyvar prowled, ignoring the elk.
Why did the call not come?
She had healed, had been strong for some time.
Why did her drow not call her?
She moved from place to place, still refusing to take up the chase, the eternal hunt against the elk.
He should have called her by now.
Had he been right? Had that last command to go been the final command?
She could feel the anchoring figurine; why did he not call her? Magic was whole again!
Guenhwyvar.
There, her name, so quiet, as if worried she would not hear.
She sped to him.
Am I ashamed of my anger? Yes.
When I cast the figure from me, it was in hopes of saving Guenhywvar from enslavement once more.
After, I felt as if I should have kept more faith in myself, in my friends, in the strength we share.
Second guesses are never a comfort in situations like this.
I kept promising her that we were coming, that we would find her, that she would be safely united with us once more.
But my anger kept lashing me, and the poor seal.
I had thrown Guen away, and the guilt was too strong.
"It's cold," Azalar said as soon as his mother had left them.
"Yes," Drizzt agreed. "But your mother asked me to teach you tundra survival, so it is supposed to be cold."
The teen looked at him with curiosity. "But you opted to do it in spring?"
"Consider it the apprentice level. What I teach will get you by for short durations. If you want to learn more, we will come back in the late fall. And if that suits, we can tackle winter."
Azalar nodded. "Like learning to ride. You don't gallop at first."
"Exactly. And you learn fast."
senmutChapters: 1/1
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Characters: Mielikki, Montolio DeBrouchee, Drizzt Do'Urden, Guenhwyvar, Dove Falconhand, Qilué Veladron, Azalar Falconhand
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant and Non-Canon Compliant
Summary:
7 drabbles/ficlets of Drizzt or about him
A Little Bit of Drizzt
I make few demands on My followers. Honestly, most of them are slow to ask Me for much of anything. The rangers I attract, the druids that choose Me, seem to all be of a very stubborn, self-reliant streak.
It is amusing, but it means I do have to pay a bit more attention. Especially in the case of a particular drow.
Honestly, he takes self-reliance to an extreme that would be endearing if it didn't imperil his life so often.
Yet, I will never regret My choice. Even if it does provoke the Dark Maiden, that I stole him.
Montolio walked alongside his student, Hooter above them. "There is a trick to picking the wood for a bow," he said, and began explaining what to look for to Drizzt. "You have to learn archery if you're going to be an elf of the surface. Just wouldn't do to leave the gap in your weapons."
Drizzt laughed brightly, but his eyes were already scanning. "I will learn anything you wish to teach me, my friend."
"Hmph, careful. There are things I think you're too young to even think about learning," Montolio teased him, getting another laugh.
It was a good day, and he had a fine student, Montolio decided. There might not be many more of them to come, and Drizzt needed all the help he could get.
Montolio would give him all he could, and then make the boy promise to go out into the world to use it.
Dove Falconhand had kept abreast of the rumors of the drow ranger who helped, even if the tales often implied evil, dire things about the ranger.
She knew better.
When they suddenly ceased to turn up at all, she asked the harpers to keep their ears out just in case.
Qilué Veladorn, on the other hand, had turned her inquiries out to her people, as word trickled back to The Promenade about a drow who worked openly. Learning the rumors and sightings had vanished left her distraught.
Why had her Lady never guided them to him?
Would they ever meet?
I do not know what drives him to be as he is, but I cannot deny that Artemis Entreri is a mirror unto me. He shows my skill, the fullness of being the best swordsman, the most cunning tactician, and the most ruthless planner of battles.
Yet there, the reflection begins to waver, warped as if the silver lining has begun to change and flake.
I hold my morals, my friends, my duty above all other considerations. I will do nothing that does not keep me in good standing on all three concerns.
Entreri is the drow Matron Malice wished me to be. And I am just as relieved to be anything but that. He knows no love, does not seem to take joy in his skill, and even the pride he shows in it is … driven by something lacking passion.
May he someday find reason to feel.
— Drizzt Do'Urden
Guenhwyvar prowled, ignoring the elk.
Why did the call not come?
She had healed, had been strong for some time.
Why did her drow not call her?
She moved from place to place, still refusing to take up the chase, the eternal hunt against the elk.
He should have called her by now.
Had he been right? Had that last command to go been the final command?
She could feel the anchoring figurine; why did he not call her? Magic was whole again!
Guenhwyvar.
There, her name, so quiet, as if worried she would not hear.
She sped to him.
Am I ashamed of my anger? Yes.
When I cast the figure from me, it was in hopes of saving Guenhywvar from enslavement once more.
After, I felt as if I should have kept more faith in myself, in my friends, in the strength we share.
Second guesses are never a comfort in situations like this.
I kept promising her that we were coming, that we would find her, that she would be safely united with us once more.
But my anger kept lashing me, and the poor seal.
I had thrown Guen away, and the guilt was too strong.
"It's cold," Azalar said as soon as his mother had left them.
"Yes," Drizzt agreed. "But your mother asked me to teach you tundra survival, so it is supposed to be cold."
The teen looked at him with curiosity. "But you opted to do it in spring?"
"Consider it the apprentice level. What I teach will get you by for short durations. If you want to learn more, we will come back in the late fall. And if that suits, we can tackle winter."
Azalar nodded. "Like learning to ride. You don't gallop at first."
"Exactly. And you learn fast."
Tags:
