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Mar. 17th, 2025 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Silver Streams of Living (7528 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Alustriel Silverhand, Drizzt Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Disguises, Ensemble Cast
Summary:
1356 D.R.
Alustriel came away from her meditation with the certain awareness of need in one of her sisters.
Not just any sister at that, but the one she had known all of their lives.
Anastra, first friend, first comfort. Anastra's face scrunched in concern as Mother tended Endué's skinned knee. Anastra holding her hand as they greeted the youngest baby Alassra, their sisters between in a huddle of silver heads and blue eyes. Anastra's tears, hot as her own, as the men said the girls would need different homes. Anastra reassuring her that magic would come in time. Anastra loudly praising her new ability and later consoling her against the man's assault on her. Anastra —
With no thought of anything but memories of their shared lives, the woman born as Endué Alustriel Silverhand threw herself through magic to the sister in need, as if Syluné were her very own staff of the magi. What she found was terrifying indeed, as a large red dragon was menacing Shadowdale, and her sister already bore the signs of burns and spell damage, despite their protections.
"Potion, while I take the defense, then together!" Alustriel shouted to the beleaguered woman, her staff of power in her hand as the one item she had brought with her that had not already been on her.
"You should not have come!" was shouted right back over dragon-roar, but Syluné obeyed, given one more reason why she had to win this battle. Alustriel knew it; the eldest of them all saw it as her duty to protect them as their mortal mother had not been capable of.
Shadowdale stood.
Her defenders, mortal and Chosen alike, had paid high prices to preserve the town. When the Ranger and Bard came, it was to find their eldest siblings clinging to life by magic's will more than anything. They spirited both into the care and keeping of the hidden, youngest one, before doing all they could to shore up defenses in the dragon-ravaged lands, for Shadowdale had not been the only place struck.
It was Storm, hero of the battles against the Black Horde that reported to Silverymoon, informing the city they would need to choose a new leader, until such time as their beloved Lady could return from Realm business to offer her guidance to them once more. As Taern Hornblade was known, loved as one of the Lady's own students, and the calmest choice, it was he who was voted in as Arch Mage, with the city and the wizened wizard knowing it would be but temporary.
In the process of rooting out further attacks while the Seven Sisters were so weakened, the Tall Ones were able to find and free Laeral from her affliction, leading to her being placed in the care of the hidden Sister as well. With their mother and two of her sisters so weakened, the fighter-mage band stepped up their visible presence in the Realms, going wherever the Zhentarim or the Cult of the Dragon, both suspected in recent attacks such as the one in Shadowdale, reared their own heads.
Even the Red Wizards of Thay learned they were not safe from swift and terrible vengeance, after one attempt to invade Cormyr with their agents.
By the spring of the following year, recoveries were well on their way, but still the three arch mages chose not to reveal themselves yet, preferring to learn what they could of the world's shape in the aftermath of such decisive defeats of their enemies during the time they healed.
1357 D.R.
Danaë Shundar looked up to see Harkle Harpell leading in the most unusual assortment of travelers to share the hospitality of the Fuzzy Quarterstaff. She left off studying the maestro of the player-less instruments to more overtly view these newcomers. The fearsome barbarian, obviously of one of the more northerly groups of those peoples was impressive, especially with the vividly magical hammer upon his back. The dwarf seemed typical of the shield variety, red of hair with a touch of grey coming to it, his helm lacking one of its horns, and the axe showing decades of use in the sheen of its haft. The lightfoot halfling was only notable in the light of a decided lack of the settled halfling look, being slimmer as befit an adventurer.
But it was the last who entered, with a shock of white hair framing ebony skin and intelligent amethyst eyes visible even at a distance who rounded off the entire party as beyond unusual to actually noteworthy. Even her silver hair and opalescent eyes would draw less comment with a true drow, likely one of the deep-dwelling kind, as a member of their party.
She leaned into her ability with clairaudience, one of the gifts of her true heritage, to keep her ears tuned to the conversation of that little group. While she was not as given to prescience as her elder sister, there was an air of impending fate hanging over the quartet. Perhaps, and the thought made her smile to herself, it would satisfy her need to be out and adventure properly, now that she had soaked up all that Longsaddle and the Ivy Manor had shared of recent events in the North.
As was the habit of the family, most of the Harpells in residence came, and the tales began to spill. It seemed the halfling was having a bit of fun with his less world-savvy friends, but the barbarian decided, eventually, to take advice and just enjoy the change of pace and its peace. Their conversation alone revealed nothing, but eventually, the dwarf himself leaped up and announced their goal as none other than Mithral Hall. She studied him more closely, even as she took note of the drow being wary of such boldness.
Yes, it was just possible that the dwarf resembled her memories of the last king, when that one had been fresh to his rule. Garumn, she thought she recalled, who had a son named Bangor at the time of the fall. If there had been one of the next generation, such word had never touched her ears — but she had not had much to do with the aftermath of the fall, busy with her third pair of sons.
Could she manage to head off the unease she could all but sense building in the drow, avoid whatever complications the well-meaning wizards built into this encounter, and insinuate herself into their party? For a moment, she wished she had chosen a masculine form. Halfling nor dwarf would care, but the Uthgardt were not the most liberated about their women, and drow —
Some drow had more than enough reason to fear powerful women.
She would have to tread carefully, unwilling to leave and pick up their trail later when she was so carefully cultivating this new life of hers, establishing it as a wizard recently returned from planar travel.
The first full day of the strange group being present seemed to be set on letting them all rest. Nor did they seem to like being separated long, but Danaë kept her awareness out, and saw the drow slip outside near dusk, away from his friends, and so closed off that she was certain Harpell curiosity had badgered him relentlessly.
She took her own leave of Regweld, having been arguing a point with his to make him feel like he was getting the upper hand. With an indolent air, she wandered the paths that meandered through spell-touched gardens, where the names of flowers might well have realistic effects. The Harpells were, if not disciplined, at least driven in their experiments.
She spied the drow sitting up on a low roof of one of the storage sheds, watching the western sky, and she wondered at that. Even if the light was dying, that could not be comfortable. Was he like her, some other being in disguise? It seemed unlikely, given there were far more options to choose from that would win him more acceptance.
It took care on her part to not pay too much attention, yet know just when to curtail her flower-sampling so that her return to the tavern for an evening meal would coincide with the drow's path. She paused as their directions coincided at the foot path to the door, even as he did.
Danaë offered him a smile, leaning into the well-known compassion of what she appeared to be, rather than fear or suspicion.
The effect on him was stunning, as his shoulders relaxed back, and he actually studied the look of her respectfully, before making a gallant sweep for her to precede him. The softer look on him was enough to hearken youth, as opposed to the deep weight of centuries lining his presence.
"Would you care to share a meal, ranger Do'Urden?" Danaë asked politely. "I know our hosts here are a bit raucous, and it is easy to feel overwhelmed if you are more used to solitude."
Suspicion flicked back into the eyes, and she turned a hand upward, holding it out to him. "I've already been stared at, poked, and prodded by the curious, and perhaps my company will offer a shield for that reason," she continued.
"So that you, a celestial-touched being, might sate yours about such a base specimen of an evil race?" the man challenged, with denigration in the words so clear by tone.
"Oh I am very curious, about all of you, given I know the history, if not the location, of your friend's goal," she admitted easily. "But I promise I try not to inflict harm, even social fatigue, upon those I choose to share time with."
She could, and would, clamp off her endless wondering at how a drow came to be in such company.
"Then… I accept. As I already hear Wulfgar's laughter rising above the music."
He laid his hand briefly on hers, and Danaë all but swore in her mind as the contact felt laden with portents.
Syluné was the one with insight to the future! Not herself!
He had a considering look from the touch, and she wondered if he was one of the deep drow that was sensitive to magical energies. That was something she could not fully mask at present, and a major reason for the choice of her shaping for this journey, as planar-touched and celestial-born were unknown enough for the effect to be dismissed as natural to them.
"You heard my name, but to be formal, Drizzt Do'Urden. And you are Danaë Shundar, per Harkle's description of notables in the tavern last night."
He walked with her to a table a little further from the light and sound of those who had come to learn more of the strange Companions.
"So I am," she agreed, settling opposite him. "Recently returned from difficult events, and trying to get my bearings on Toril by exploring Faerûn, where I have had many experiences."
"Hence knowing the legend of my friend's missing Hall?" he asked, before gesturing to the scrying stone for her to order her meal. He chose his after, and then they could speak more. "I am curious if what you know might provide any clues to supplement what we learn from DelRoy Harpell."
"Hmm. It was thought to sit somewhere along the Spine, I recall. But not exactly where," she said with a sigh. "They had trade with all of the cities of the Silver Marches during their time of power, but handled through others, and the clan as a whole was considered even more secretive than most.
"None in Felbarr or Sundabar knew exactly where it sat, though both took in those survivors found lost and confused in the Moonwood, some weeks after events drove the dwarves away."
His amethyst eyes jerked to her features at those words, shock very evident.
Danaë took a moment to weight that against the tales, against the Uthgardt's manner of dress, and let out a breath. "Your friend has no idea he did not have all of the survivors with him."
"No. And… I dare not divide his attention yet. Whatever it is that has done this is something terrible, and I can't have him worrying over how to unify his people before he has found — and decided to risk taking — his Hall."
"A wise choice, but then a ranger would have reason to know more of the horrors that can taint the land… and your birth people likely knew what could lay beneath it?"
He smiled wryly. "I have endeavored not to list the litany of creatures and beings I can think of with power enough to drive an entrenched dwarven clan out, and bypass their resistance to spellwork such that no one knows the way home."
Danaë gave him a smile for that choice as well, before letting her playful side rise. "If you care to unburden yourself with such, I would not be averse to hearing them. In the name of learning more.
"Not, mind you, in the hearing of our hosts. I don't want to inspire any strange research among them."
He laughed, and it was genuine, quiet and peaceful, to her ears. "I believe I might just trade you that list, in a quieter place, for the shelter your presence is granting me, Lady."
"Oh, no, I refuse to be a Lady at present. I am just an explorer with a knack for magic, finding my way."
He met her eyes fully, resting his hand not using the eating tine in the middle of the table. She reached, resting the tips of her fingers there on his. Something in his face indicated a hunger for easy companionship, for contact… and that he had chosen to trust her for both so far.
Danaë suspected that it was a rare thing for him to find, and felt a need to keep it as a treasure to savor. What a long road such a man would have had, when nothing he wore showed allegiance to the Dark Maiden.
Danaë found reason to be near the room that DelRoy interviewed Drizzt in, and by careful use of her listening skills was visible as he emerged. The long conversation of the night previous, conducted in her room, had led her to believe he was a kindred soul to her in his pursuits of goodly action and protection of others. Plus, his loyalty to others was staggering, given his birth among the Spider worshiping drow.
"My friend, must you go straight to your dwarf companion?" she asked him quietly. "If I may intrude, you look as if you need a walk to clear the path of memory you must have wandered."
He smiled tightly, but came closer to her. "As much as that sounds good to my ears, duty. However, I wish to introduce you to them, and would like if you came with me, so I can show them I have chosen trust in your advice?"
Her heart hammered a bit at that avowal. What even was he that he could choose to trust a stranger after but a night's knowing?
"If the chieftain allows, I would gladly join you," she told him, resting a hand lightly on his arm. He covered her hand, and then led the way.
As he shook off Bruenor's concerns, and insisted that Bruenor focus on his own meeting with DelRoy and the others, Danaë weighed the reaction of the other three. Wulfgar seemed curious about her, Regis was barely hiding a distrust, and Bruenor —
— she was all but certain the dwarf had vowed her death if Drizzt came to harm because of her.
"We run light on magic, and stop scowling Wulfgar, as it is a needed part of the road ahead, I believe," Drizzt said. "I have spoken at length with Danaë, and her knowledge of the Realms, even if from earlier years, will prove as helpful as having a wizard with us would. She walked these lands when your clan held Mithral Hall, Bruenor.
"Let her hear what DelRoy says, and weigh it against her own memories. It may prove of great value."
"Aye, one as is that old might well help me keep ye youngsters in check even!" Bruenor said after a long moment of beard-wagging thought.
While Wulfgar was undeniably young, Regis had the timelessness of a halfling in his prime, and Drizzt carried his years with tragedy stamped all through them. But a dwarf born in the Hall before it fell would be at the upper end of his prime, as evidenced by the grey coming into beard and hair alike, so she supposed that was a fair assessment.
Elves, after all, seemed endless, and drow were no exception to that.
"All that I learn, on your behalf, chieftain, will remain sealed to you and your chosen companions, I do swear," Danaë offered. "But I feel staying in league with you can only speed my relearning of these Realms."
"Ye speak well, and I'll hold ye to that, aye."
Things went well enough from Longsaddle to Nesme. There, however, the Riders showed their fear in spades as the group recognized a drow at the rear of their party.
"Seriously! What dwarf or aasimir would ever team with an evil drow?!" Regis snapped at their aggression. "We saved your lives! Look at how many of you were down, how many of the horses are foundered?!"
From the flick of attention to him by Wulfgar and Bruenor both, it was surprising for the little one to have put himself forward first. Danaë scoured fro any reason why, flicking back over the muttered words of the Riders and finding nothing. She glanced at Drizzt, actually glad she had taken to staying closer to him on their journey so she could catch his own searching, subtle as it was.
"Pass on by swiftly, then, before we put that to the test," the head of the patrol snarled.
The Companions crossed the river swiftly, leaving clean up to the Riders… but Danaë saw the one Rider dispatched to the city. What further trouble would this be, and what had prompted Regis?
"The print, oddly shaped for a giant, and close to prints of unshod horse-like creatures?" Drizzt asked Regis once they got past the bridge.
"I was going to bring it up to you!" Regis protested. "Luskan was bad, and they might have?"
"Only if they suspect what happened," Drizzt pointed out.
"Makes the most sense of how it went down in their city, especially that guard?"
Drizzt appraised Regis shrewdly, decided not to press for more, or so it seemed to her watchful eyes, before he looked over at Bruenor. "Your thoughts?"
"Bein' glad ye went and found us a wizard, aye," the dwarf said grimly. "Make up yer own mind on what tae be telling. Ye will anyhows."
Drizzt nodded, taking a deep breath and fell back in step with Danaë, giving Wulfgar the lead once more.
"Regis's observations, your own, they leave you uneasy?" she asked in her softest voice.
"We did have trouble in Luskan, and there is something behind us that makes that a threat. Regis is not forthcoming on his own reasons to flee comfort to join us on the road, and if the two threats have merged, or even if they are both there, I will have nothing but worry. I will not speak of the reason Luskan may seek us, other than to assure you the best possible chance is for them to believe Regis or I have what they seek.
"This is for your protection, as you were not part of that then, and should not be pulled in now." Drizzt gave her a shake of his head when she went to protest. "What you do not know, cannot be taken from you."
"A point." She made a rueful smile. "The potential trouble has gone on past us?" she said, inviting him to consider further.
"Meaning they think us to make it to Everlund or Silverymoon, and could ambush us anywhere in that region." Drizzt considered further as they kept moving, trusting Wulfgar's senses for the day time more than his own. When, about an hour later, he looked sharply up, shading his eyes, taking in a bird in the sky, he frowned.
"Working against air currents, and were those jesses I saw from the legs?" Danaë asked, knowing she had and just offering her observations for him to confirm whatever sun-dazzled perceptions he had gathered.
"Nesme means to cause mischief with news arriving ahead of us," he said with a frown. "It might have been some other's message."
"But unlikely, given the timing."
"We need an alternate path; too many ears heard too many things in Longsaddle," Drizzt sighed.
"The Herald's Holdfast," Danaë suggested. "I do know where to reach it, though it has been some time. Bruenor has a legitimate claim to enter the dwarven hall of knowledge there. It's nearer to here than either of the cities you mentioned, but is unlikely to be staked out for ambush, given you have to know how to get there."
Drizzt closed his eyes, considering for a moment — not that it impeded his walking — before he snapped them open and went to Bruenor, forward of them, to let him know. Danaë followed, unsurprised when Bruenor heeded Drizzt after a token protest. That put the two of them, specifically her, in the lead, to change their course.
The problem, Danaë decided, with trying to remain incognito was that many places that were excellent resources did their best to force her to reveal herself.
She wished she had thought of that before Old Night brought them inside, but at least the Herald was not immediately revealing the Holdfast was badgering her with magic.
~Old friend, it is I, please hold the secret; I think you can guess why!~ she sent imploringly, knowing he knew her mental presence quite well from past conversations.
Almost immediately, without a response, the Holdfast ceased trying to strip her polymorph from her.
She let Bruenor handle her introduction alongside his dear friends, and Old Night betrayed nothing then, either. Such a good ally, he was to her and her sisters.
"I journeyed here long ago," she began, "and recalled the halls of knowledge for each species. It was my hope that you might aid, and allow the chieftain access to the Hall of Dwarves, for his quest is a just one."
"So it is, and I will be glad to do so, but first, food and rest is in order, to allow you to tackle the mines of knowledge refreshed, before setting back on the path it leads you to," Old Night told them all, a warm smile gracing them as unseen servants bustled to get a feast in place.
Later, once the Companions slept, she would ask use of his work room, but for now, she joined in the tales shared, choosing off-plane adventures to match the others, so nothing could foul her up in her chosen persona.
Danaë moved with care in Old Knight's workroom, grateful that he kept things adequately stocked and did not mind sharing with wizards he trusted. He was sitting in a chair watching her, paying attention to the Holdfast's wards before finally smiling.
"Even the drow is abed now," he said. "It is good to see you, if rather in a striking fashion."
She smiled at him for that. "It is also good to see you, though you know I would have preferred to keep my anonymity."
"Secrets are always safe with me, and yes, I know you would, but those spells exist within the wards for a reason. A certain silver complains at me about them now and then."
She laughed at that. "The form masks certain traits that grew a bit more noticeable due to recent events… well, recent for our longevity.
"But, as you do know, what can you tell me of our region?"
"That it is well you came here first. Silverymoon is to deny the ranger entry," Old Night said with a sigh. "It is trade season."
"We suspected, after our encounter on the road with Nesme," she told him, "but it does not make me pleased to see my suspicions were correct. I will have to learn if Taern initiated any investigation. As the ranger is strongly favored by Mielikki."
"I can look into that, and preserve your anonymity, my friend," he promised her.
"Anything else?"
"No. Is there anything about your adventurers that should be relayed to Taern to aid his investigation?"
Danaë considered. "Luskan may be on their trail, either with or without a secondary threat hinged on the halfling. We saw tracks of what might be a homunculus aside phantom steed traces — sloppy casting that, but the mud near Nesme is pernicious — and they have reason to believe Luskan is the reason. The halfling's straits have not been revealed, but Drizzt is certain the man is fleeing some danger."
"I will relay that as carefully, and artfully, as I may.
"What is it that you are brewing?"
"An aid, for the memory, once Bruenor has perused the knowledge he can find in your keeping," Danaë told him. "It's a bit stronger than the usual, so maybe it can break his fog."
"A sound plan, as there has been limited reference to his Hall so far. Mostly trade mentioned." Old Night sighed. "Secretive dwarves."
She smiled, nodding, before concentrating on her timing — as she was using chronal spells to enhance this one.
Once Bruenor had taken the potion to go alongside what he found in the Hall of Dwarves, Danaë protected the others of the party with illusions, making them seem as dwarves. Drizzt's grateful look her way had warmed her heart, before she watched the canny drow drive Bruenor's path ever onward, guiding them closer to their goal.
She really did admire that his wits were as sharp as his scimitars.
It was at the suspected door of the Hall that a new surprise intruded, in the sound of great wings beating above them. Drizzt looked up, along with Danaë and Wulfgar, to see a pegasus bearing two riders making their way down to them. Danaë shaded her eyes, making out that it was Methrammar, but the woman with him was a stranger.
"Catti-brie!" Wulfgar called, his eyes keener in the light than Drizzt's.
"Me girl?!" Bruenor roared, turning away from the puzzle of a blank stone wall.
"Greetings to one who rides a pegasus," Drizzt called calmly, but Danaë caught the barest hint of tension in his shoulders.
"Methrammar Aerasumé, and my friend is Beregan," the rider said, before helping the lady to dismount first. That one — oh she seemed young to Danaë's eyes — all but flew to Bruenor, crying out 'Da' so gladly.
In all the tales so far shared, Danaë had never suspected the chieftain's daughter was human-born, though the patter of questions and answers that followed were very much in the dwarven brogue.
Drizzt remained focused on the pegasus, while Regis was all but hiding behind Wulfgar, and that one was as caught up in the woman as Bruenor himself.
"Greetings to you, Beregan, and you, Saer," Danaë said, watching the pegasus slowly be drawn forward, as Drizzt's hand rose, hesitantly. She could see the surprise in Methri's face as the ranger and pegasus slowly connected, a look of awe shining on the drow features.
"First time meeting one of them?" Methri called softly once the petting had subsided.
"Yes," Drizzt said, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Beregan, for indulging me."
The pegasus whickered at him, before looking over the others.
"I cannot stay, but Chieftain Battlehammer?" Methri called.
Bruenor looked over, which let Catti-brie slide into Wulfgar's protective hold.
"Nesme sought to sour relations with your party, and we are going to turn that thrust aside as swiftly as we can, aided by the Church of Mielikki," Methri said with regret. "Arch Mage Taern Hornblade invites you to come there, once the quest is at an end, as he is certain the miscommunication will be cleared up.
"He looks forward to being of aid to your needs."
Danaë was so relieved to hear that, and unsurprised the Church was involved, even as she saw a faint embarrassment on Drizzt's face.
"Cut that out, me elf," Bruenor growled. "Right good of your Lady's people tae fix what those idiots on the road pulled with trying tae cut us off from potential allies."
The slight widening of Methri's eyes amused Danaë, as she had grown used to the affectionate way Bruenor referred to her drow friend.
"As you will. And thank you for bringing our friend to us," Drizzt said, before Beregan backed away enough to get himself back into the air.
"Regis… the man ye were runnin' from," Catti-brie said, once the pair were away. "He was killed in Silverymoon, along with the pair as were put on ye all from the Hightower."
Regis cringed, and a new round of fast words began, but Catti-brie let go of Wulfgar to come to Drizzt's side and look patently at the stranger in their midst. Danaë met her eyes, amused that the woman had been astute enough to guess who had invited the wizard into the group.
"Danaë Shundar, please meet Catti-brie of clan Battlehammer, my dearest and oldest friend on the surface — that walks on two legs, anyhow," Drizzt said, and Danaë would bet long odds that he'd added a bit of humor to better set the tone of the meeting on purpose.
Catti-brie gave a snort at him for that, but also gave a head bob to Danaë. "Me ranger has a good eye and ear for people, so like as not, ye be a fine addition, when none but he uses magic tae speak of."
"I do not," Drizzt said mildly, and it was all Danaë could do not to stare at him, having witnessed his ability to dissuade creatures from turning hostile on their journey.
"Sure, me ranger. Had me some long talks with one o' yer clerics. Not believin' ye now."
Drizzt looked honestly confused, but shrugged and went back to trying to figure out the door. Danaë looked at Catti-brie a moment, then shook her head.
"Some rangers just can't see it for that, I hear," she offered the newcomer, hoping to meet approval, oddly enough, with this person that Drizzt praised so as friend.
"Can't help but twit him, though," Catti said, agreeing to that, before they joined the men in solving the puzzle of entry.
While the Companions had managed to make the Hall open, and they had explored all the way down to the dwarven undercity, Danaë wondered if the price was going to be one unusual drow's life. He had staggered back to them, ashen in color once they could see him under light, and shook his head about speaking of what he had seen.
His urging to get them outside, as swiftly as possible, but forbidding her from casting anymagic had only intensified the concern growing in her soul.
Now he was lying flat on is back, head in Catti-brie's lap, staring fixedly at the stars above him, hands wrapped solidly around a black figure of wondrous power. The young woman was stroking his hair, and looking as anguished as the chieftain looked on in concern.
"Is there some way for ye tae aid me elf, Danaë?" Bruenor asked, trusting in Wulfgar and even Regis to keep sharp eyes out for any sign of trouble or pursuit, now that they had made it down and over the river ford.
"Hush, Bruenor," Drizzt said, moving to sit up — and the young woman stopped that with a hand to his shoulder. "Magic won't cure shade damage, not hers," he said as firmly as he could.
"Ye told us tae steer clear o' the deep dark!" Catti-brie protested.
"There was little choice when I had to freeze in such a place to avoid detection," Drizzt said mildly.
"He is correct. If I had an elixir, I could at best fortify him to get him to aid the long way, but there is something I can do," Danaë said. "I have allies, that no matter appearances, trust me well enough for me to teleport him there for healing.
"I swear that no harm would come to you, Drizzt, and they are truly good people that wish only to help."
All of them were watching her, before they looked at their drow, and it was Bruenor who took in a breath before Drizzt could speak, blustering through.
"Ye go with her, lad. I cannae lose ye; need yer eyes tae clear me Hall once I find a way tae take it back."
Drizzt shut his mouth at that, then looked up at Catti-brie. "Take Guen. Call her at any trouble you find," he admonished. "You plan to go to Silverymoon as invited, Bruenor?"
"Aye. And we'll see ye both there, soon as ye can be," Bruenor answered.
"I'll keep her safe," Catti answered, taking the figure from him. She then let him stagger up, his grace sorely lacking as testimony to his state.
"Bruenor, it is a shadow-dragon, and has two shadow-hounds at its call. You will need wizards — no, Wulfgar, it is far more dangerous than the dragon you slew already."
"We, you mean, my teacher. And I listen."
Danaë's heart quailed to hear Drizzt name the enemy, but she was moving to support him, getting a firm hold on him.
"Until Silverymoon," she said, before teleporting him to the glen closest to the hidden enclave of goodly drow.
She was thankful for that firm grasp, as he swayed heavily from the change in location. "I have you, my friend."
"So you do… mountains, woodlands… sea?" he asked, trying to anchor himself in the here and now.
"We are near the Sword Coast, in the Sword Mountains," she agreed.
"Never wandered here." He frowned, and disentangled himself, moving to a tree and leaning on it.
"Sit, Drizzt; my friends may take a few minutes to come let us in."
He obeyed, with no protest, worrying her even further.
~Sister, the drow I have spoken of has shade damage and we are at the entry portal.~
~It is a good thing you already solved the mystery of him, or this would be awkward. Coming!~ Qilué answered her.
Danaë kept her smile to herself; that had been a very wearying night, communing with their Mother while Drizzt and his friends slept to remove the spell upon him. She knew Eilistraee had not yet intruded in his dreams, only because he'd had no strange awakenings, and appreciated the goodly goddess being cautious.
Drizzt had closed his eyes, and she felt brief alarm. "You know to stay awake?"
"Yes. Running through sword exercises in my head to stay as alert as I can."
"Good. Not long now."
Nor was she wrong, as Danaë spotted Elkantar, a fighter she did not know — carrying a stretcher it appeared — and Qilué herself approaching hastily in the evening dimness to get to them.
"Peace," Elkantar called as soon as Drizzt started to try to get back up, alarm written through him.
"Truly, Drizzt. Trust in me to know the nature of my allies?" Danaë said softly, and the man leaned back against his tree. His eyes did go very wide as he saw just how tall Qilué stood.
"I have come to trust you, but this is — "
"Far outside your realm of experience, I am told," Qilué said, having come close enough to be in reach, but not yet touching him. "Ranger Do'Urden, I am told you have shade damage, and I can see how drained you are. Will you allow Elkantar and Sriva to carry you into our haven, where I can most fully sink into the needed healing?
"For some particular reason, we don't like to remain where we might be spied and taken for evil drow." She let some humor bleed into her tone, letting Danaë delight in the fact Drizzt managed a wry moue at the words.
"I will bring no goodly folk to risk of harm, so yes," he agreed, mollified by whatever impressions his fascinating ability to discern magic and alignment had given him, Danaë decided. Elkantar and Sriva — good to have his name — swiftly opened out the stretcher. Danaë had moved, and she was the one to help Drizzt settle on the stretcher once the men had it held between them.
"I could have provided a floating disk," she said playfully. "As someone quite rightly forbid me from any casting until we escaped our little adventure."
"No need, our friend," Elkantar said with a grin. "If I help carry him, our sword mistress might go easier on me at practice in deference to my exertion."
Qilué laughed brightly even as she guided them all to the portal under its illusion. "Oh you are not that lucky; she wants you back in fighting shape."
"Elkantar, have you been injured?" Danaë asked with worry.
"Well past it, and just working on stamina now. Xinval did an admirable job healing us at the last battle."
The chatter continued, with Danaë hopeful that it was helping Drizzt settle to the nature of the aid she had brought him to.
Danaë came in after Drizzt answered her, and could not help smiling to see him sitting up, his skin back to its proper hue under the permanent faerie fire in the room he'd been given off the main chamber of the infirmary.
"You look more yourself."
"I feel I should be back with my friends," he admitted, looking sheepish to be abed even as she came to sit beside him on the stool there.
"It's a five day journey, at least, from Fourth Peak to Silverymoon. We've only been here three, even if you slept most of one of those." She reached out to rest her hand on his nearer one. "If I may be so bold, I have a suspicion you'd pushed yourself harder than any of them against all threats before I met with you, and a long rest was overdue."
"Longsaddle and the Holdfast were rest enough," he said stubbornly, but he turned his hand over, so their palms were touching. "And your company, with the tales you've shared, all that you've seen? Has given my spirit rest of another sort, slaking some of the endless hunger to know more."
Her smile softened at that, even as the earnest yearning she'd seen called even more to her very nature. To have him as a friend, with his need to learn and his goodly nature would be a boon… but was it safe to let him know more of who she was?
"Drizzt, I am very glad I was at the Ivy Manor when you came there," she told him. "Apart from enjoying the chance to aid a quest like Bruenor's, I find myself eager to see what further challenges I find in your company."
He met her gaze evenly, a small look of awe on his features, before he took a sly smile and wicked look in his eyes. "Careful, my friend, or you may find that a challenge to my future troubles."
"Is that an invitation to enjoy them with you?" she asked him, loving that impish sense of humor.
"I believe I would very much enjoy adventuring with a wizard who is not inept, capricious, or malevolent for some time, yes."
She squeezed the hand in hers, before boldly reaching up with her other to push an errant lock of hair behind his ear. Only because she was watching his face so intently did she catch the slight shift in his eyes, as that small gesture struck a chord with him.
"I wish to hear of these wizards that have given you such a poor taste of the Arts," she said, settling on her stool but not relinquishing his hand. "And continue to strive to show you better.
"For now, would you let me escort you to the community meal, so you can see your own people in a better setting?"
"I think that sounds wonderful."
Danaë debated herself, and her two sisters — Syluné was still here, though Laeral had been whisked away by a fellow Chosen for a change of scenery — about if she should tell Drizzt before they went back to his friends and the city of her heart.
In the end, she decided it would make it easier if he had no idea of her history with the city, but likely make it that much harder to find a good opportunity to admit her identity after. She pushed herself to go find him, catching him as he was leaving the training grounds, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
She was almost sad that she had not followed the exodus of so many of the residents to go see the sparring.
Later, maybe — if this went well.
"You're probably wanting to go and bathe," she said as she fell in step with him. "After, may I speak with you privately?"
He appraised her, then offered her his hand. "Come; speak with me now. I should cool further before I slip into water."
Her throat felt thick with emotion as she took that offered hand, letting him guide her to his room. He started removing his swords and boots, indicating she could sit on the bed if she liked, and she decided that was best. When he finished, she thrilled further at his willingness to sit beside her.
"I am growing very fond of you, Drizzt," she began. "In a way that I know from my past as meaning it could grow into something more, if you were so inclined, or become a very deep friendship that lasts for ages."
He shifted to have one foot on the floor, off the edge of the sturdy convalescent's bed, drawing his other leg up to hook his arms around the knee, watching her intently.
"I enjoy time spent with you, and believe I may be sharing your sentiment," he admitted. "But… it is new to me, this wish that I have no true words for.
"It is not the fondness weighing on you, but something else." His voice was calm, his eyes were kind, and she had his complete attention.
There was nothing for it but to be honest now. "This face, this name, they are not who I truly am," she told him. "Well, I am still adhering to who I am, but this is a disguise, to allow me to travel freely as I had not done in… oh a very long time."
There was no anger, no distrust in his features, but honest concern, and a flare of that protective nature she had seen more than once in the weeks since they had met.
"Then, hold that secret for now, Danaë, be this face and name for now, until such time as I have made my friend's home safe for the clan. After, then we can talk, if you choose to enlighten me, so that I can be a knowing ally in your need to avoid those who made it necessary."
What did she even do with such faith? He was absolutely amazing, and she leaned forward, touching her forehead to his when he moved to meet her. Resting there like that, she closed her eyes, and knew her heart was half-gone to him. The fullness of it would have to be explored, but if he would stay in her life, she would not let go any time soon.
The prickle of 'but what if he doesn't make it' tracked along her spine, and she stamped on it by knowing Qilué would not stand for that death to last, if it came to pass.
"May I know why you are choosing not to press now?" she asked.
"The weight of Bruenor's quest, the idea of that dragon wresting secrets from me when we face it, the need to be able to learn all of you when I am not distracted by my friends' needs," he told her.
"That all makes perfectly good sense," she admitted, before drawing back.
This time, it was him to tuck her errant tendril of hair behind her ear, and she knew he was testing his boundaries from the way his eyes stayed on her. She tipped her face into his hand before he could pull it away, and he smiled.
She could wait, for all of his reasons, and anticipate what they could be, once there was honest sharing.
A shadow dragon's reign ended, and dwarves returned to the Frost Hills. A Chosen remained hidden, even as her sisters slowly resumed their lives, enjoying the company of an unusual drow ranger. Her secret was safe in his keeping, even as the Realms had to grow accustomed to an aasimir and drow couple, working to make the world a little better.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Alustriel Silverhand, Drizzt Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Disguises, Ensemble Cast
Summary:
Alustriel came away from meditation knowing that her sister was in danger. The choice she makes sets the Silverhands on new courses, and opens the door for her to explore a new life.
Silver Streams of Living
1356 D.R.
Alustriel came away from her meditation with the certain awareness of need in one of her sisters.
Not just any sister at that, but the one she had known all of their lives.
Anastra, first friend, first comfort. Anastra's face scrunched in concern as Mother tended Endué's skinned knee. Anastra holding her hand as they greeted the youngest baby Alassra, their sisters between in a huddle of silver heads and blue eyes. Anastra's tears, hot as her own, as the men said the girls would need different homes. Anastra reassuring her that magic would come in time. Anastra loudly praising her new ability and later consoling her against the man's assault on her. Anastra —
With no thought of anything but memories of their shared lives, the woman born as Endué Alustriel Silverhand threw herself through magic to the sister in need, as if Syluné were her very own staff of the magi. What she found was terrifying indeed, as a large red dragon was menacing Shadowdale, and her sister already bore the signs of burns and spell damage, despite their protections.
"Potion, while I take the defense, then together!" Alustriel shouted to the beleaguered woman, her staff of power in her hand as the one item she had brought with her that had not already been on her.
"You should not have come!" was shouted right back over dragon-roar, but Syluné obeyed, given one more reason why she had to win this battle. Alustriel knew it; the eldest of them all saw it as her duty to protect them as their mortal mother had not been capable of.
Shadowdale stood.
Her defenders, mortal and Chosen alike, had paid high prices to preserve the town. When the Ranger and Bard came, it was to find their eldest siblings clinging to life by magic's will more than anything. They spirited both into the care and keeping of the hidden, youngest one, before doing all they could to shore up defenses in the dragon-ravaged lands, for Shadowdale had not been the only place struck.
It was Storm, hero of the battles against the Black Horde that reported to Silverymoon, informing the city they would need to choose a new leader, until such time as their beloved Lady could return from Realm business to offer her guidance to them once more. As Taern Hornblade was known, loved as one of the Lady's own students, and the calmest choice, it was he who was voted in as Arch Mage, with the city and the wizened wizard knowing it would be but temporary.
In the process of rooting out further attacks while the Seven Sisters were so weakened, the Tall Ones were able to find and free Laeral from her affliction, leading to her being placed in the care of the hidden Sister as well. With their mother and two of her sisters so weakened, the fighter-mage band stepped up their visible presence in the Realms, going wherever the Zhentarim or the Cult of the Dragon, both suspected in recent attacks such as the one in Shadowdale, reared their own heads.
Even the Red Wizards of Thay learned they were not safe from swift and terrible vengeance, after one attempt to invade Cormyr with their agents.
By the spring of the following year, recoveries were well on their way, but still the three arch mages chose not to reveal themselves yet, preferring to learn what they could of the world's shape in the aftermath of such decisive defeats of their enemies during the time they healed.
1357 D.R.
Danaë Shundar looked up to see Harkle Harpell leading in the most unusual assortment of travelers to share the hospitality of the Fuzzy Quarterstaff. She left off studying the maestro of the player-less instruments to more overtly view these newcomers. The fearsome barbarian, obviously of one of the more northerly groups of those peoples was impressive, especially with the vividly magical hammer upon his back. The dwarf seemed typical of the shield variety, red of hair with a touch of grey coming to it, his helm lacking one of its horns, and the axe showing decades of use in the sheen of its haft. The lightfoot halfling was only notable in the light of a decided lack of the settled halfling look, being slimmer as befit an adventurer.
But it was the last who entered, with a shock of white hair framing ebony skin and intelligent amethyst eyes visible even at a distance who rounded off the entire party as beyond unusual to actually noteworthy. Even her silver hair and opalescent eyes would draw less comment with a true drow, likely one of the deep-dwelling kind, as a member of their party.
She leaned into her ability with clairaudience, one of the gifts of her true heritage, to keep her ears tuned to the conversation of that little group. While she was not as given to prescience as her elder sister, there was an air of impending fate hanging over the quartet. Perhaps, and the thought made her smile to herself, it would satisfy her need to be out and adventure properly, now that she had soaked up all that Longsaddle and the Ivy Manor had shared of recent events in the North.
As was the habit of the family, most of the Harpells in residence came, and the tales began to spill. It seemed the halfling was having a bit of fun with his less world-savvy friends, but the barbarian decided, eventually, to take advice and just enjoy the change of pace and its peace. Their conversation alone revealed nothing, but eventually, the dwarf himself leaped up and announced their goal as none other than Mithral Hall. She studied him more closely, even as she took note of the drow being wary of such boldness.
Yes, it was just possible that the dwarf resembled her memories of the last king, when that one had been fresh to his rule. Garumn, she thought she recalled, who had a son named Bangor at the time of the fall. If there had been one of the next generation, such word had never touched her ears — but she had not had much to do with the aftermath of the fall, busy with her third pair of sons.
Could she manage to head off the unease she could all but sense building in the drow, avoid whatever complications the well-meaning wizards built into this encounter, and insinuate herself into their party? For a moment, she wished she had chosen a masculine form. Halfling nor dwarf would care, but the Uthgardt were not the most liberated about their women, and drow —
Some drow had more than enough reason to fear powerful women.
She would have to tread carefully, unwilling to leave and pick up their trail later when she was so carefully cultivating this new life of hers, establishing it as a wizard recently returned from planar travel.
The first full day of the strange group being present seemed to be set on letting them all rest. Nor did they seem to like being separated long, but Danaë kept her awareness out, and saw the drow slip outside near dusk, away from his friends, and so closed off that she was certain Harpell curiosity had badgered him relentlessly.
She took her own leave of Regweld, having been arguing a point with his to make him feel like he was getting the upper hand. With an indolent air, she wandered the paths that meandered through spell-touched gardens, where the names of flowers might well have realistic effects. The Harpells were, if not disciplined, at least driven in their experiments.
She spied the drow sitting up on a low roof of one of the storage sheds, watching the western sky, and she wondered at that. Even if the light was dying, that could not be comfortable. Was he like her, some other being in disguise? It seemed unlikely, given there were far more options to choose from that would win him more acceptance.
It took care on her part to not pay too much attention, yet know just when to curtail her flower-sampling so that her return to the tavern for an evening meal would coincide with the drow's path. She paused as their directions coincided at the foot path to the door, even as he did.
Danaë offered him a smile, leaning into the well-known compassion of what she appeared to be, rather than fear or suspicion.
The effect on him was stunning, as his shoulders relaxed back, and he actually studied the look of her respectfully, before making a gallant sweep for her to precede him. The softer look on him was enough to hearken youth, as opposed to the deep weight of centuries lining his presence.
"Would you care to share a meal, ranger Do'Urden?" Danaë asked politely. "I know our hosts here are a bit raucous, and it is easy to feel overwhelmed if you are more used to solitude."
Suspicion flicked back into the eyes, and she turned a hand upward, holding it out to him. "I've already been stared at, poked, and prodded by the curious, and perhaps my company will offer a shield for that reason," she continued.
"So that you, a celestial-touched being, might sate yours about such a base specimen of an evil race?" the man challenged, with denigration in the words so clear by tone.
"Oh I am very curious, about all of you, given I know the history, if not the location, of your friend's goal," she admitted easily. "But I promise I try not to inflict harm, even social fatigue, upon those I choose to share time with."
She could, and would, clamp off her endless wondering at how a drow came to be in such company.
"Then… I accept. As I already hear Wulfgar's laughter rising above the music."
He laid his hand briefly on hers, and Danaë all but swore in her mind as the contact felt laden with portents.
Syluné was the one with insight to the future! Not herself!
He had a considering look from the touch, and she wondered if he was one of the deep drow that was sensitive to magical energies. That was something she could not fully mask at present, and a major reason for the choice of her shaping for this journey, as planar-touched and celestial-born were unknown enough for the effect to be dismissed as natural to them.
"You heard my name, but to be formal, Drizzt Do'Urden. And you are Danaë Shundar, per Harkle's description of notables in the tavern last night."
He walked with her to a table a little further from the light and sound of those who had come to learn more of the strange Companions.
"So I am," she agreed, settling opposite him. "Recently returned from difficult events, and trying to get my bearings on Toril by exploring Faerûn, where I have had many experiences."
"Hence knowing the legend of my friend's missing Hall?" he asked, before gesturing to the scrying stone for her to order her meal. He chose his after, and then they could speak more. "I am curious if what you know might provide any clues to supplement what we learn from DelRoy Harpell."
"Hmm. It was thought to sit somewhere along the Spine, I recall. But not exactly where," she said with a sigh. "They had trade with all of the cities of the Silver Marches during their time of power, but handled through others, and the clan as a whole was considered even more secretive than most.
"None in Felbarr or Sundabar knew exactly where it sat, though both took in those survivors found lost and confused in the Moonwood, some weeks after events drove the dwarves away."
His amethyst eyes jerked to her features at those words, shock very evident.
Danaë took a moment to weight that against the tales, against the Uthgardt's manner of dress, and let out a breath. "Your friend has no idea he did not have all of the survivors with him."
"No. And… I dare not divide his attention yet. Whatever it is that has done this is something terrible, and I can't have him worrying over how to unify his people before he has found — and decided to risk taking — his Hall."
"A wise choice, but then a ranger would have reason to know more of the horrors that can taint the land… and your birth people likely knew what could lay beneath it?"
He smiled wryly. "I have endeavored not to list the litany of creatures and beings I can think of with power enough to drive an entrenched dwarven clan out, and bypass their resistance to spellwork such that no one knows the way home."
Danaë gave him a smile for that choice as well, before letting her playful side rise. "If you care to unburden yourself with such, I would not be averse to hearing them. In the name of learning more.
"Not, mind you, in the hearing of our hosts. I don't want to inspire any strange research among them."
He laughed, and it was genuine, quiet and peaceful, to her ears. "I believe I might just trade you that list, in a quieter place, for the shelter your presence is granting me, Lady."
"Oh, no, I refuse to be a Lady at present. I am just an explorer with a knack for magic, finding my way."
He met her eyes fully, resting his hand not using the eating tine in the middle of the table. She reached, resting the tips of her fingers there on his. Something in his face indicated a hunger for easy companionship, for contact… and that he had chosen to trust her for both so far.
Danaë suspected that it was a rare thing for him to find, and felt a need to keep it as a treasure to savor. What a long road such a man would have had, when nothing he wore showed allegiance to the Dark Maiden.
Danaë found reason to be near the room that DelRoy interviewed Drizzt in, and by careful use of her listening skills was visible as he emerged. The long conversation of the night previous, conducted in her room, had led her to believe he was a kindred soul to her in his pursuits of goodly action and protection of others. Plus, his loyalty to others was staggering, given his birth among the Spider worshiping drow.
"My friend, must you go straight to your dwarf companion?" she asked him quietly. "If I may intrude, you look as if you need a walk to clear the path of memory you must have wandered."
He smiled tightly, but came closer to her. "As much as that sounds good to my ears, duty. However, I wish to introduce you to them, and would like if you came with me, so I can show them I have chosen trust in your advice?"
Her heart hammered a bit at that avowal. What even was he that he could choose to trust a stranger after but a night's knowing?
"If the chieftain allows, I would gladly join you," she told him, resting a hand lightly on his arm. He covered her hand, and then led the way.
As he shook off Bruenor's concerns, and insisted that Bruenor focus on his own meeting with DelRoy and the others, Danaë weighed the reaction of the other three. Wulfgar seemed curious about her, Regis was barely hiding a distrust, and Bruenor —
— she was all but certain the dwarf had vowed her death if Drizzt came to harm because of her.
"We run light on magic, and stop scowling Wulfgar, as it is a needed part of the road ahead, I believe," Drizzt said. "I have spoken at length with Danaë, and her knowledge of the Realms, even if from earlier years, will prove as helpful as having a wizard with us would. She walked these lands when your clan held Mithral Hall, Bruenor.
"Let her hear what DelRoy says, and weigh it against her own memories. It may prove of great value."
"Aye, one as is that old might well help me keep ye youngsters in check even!" Bruenor said after a long moment of beard-wagging thought.
While Wulfgar was undeniably young, Regis had the timelessness of a halfling in his prime, and Drizzt carried his years with tragedy stamped all through them. But a dwarf born in the Hall before it fell would be at the upper end of his prime, as evidenced by the grey coming into beard and hair alike, so she supposed that was a fair assessment.
Elves, after all, seemed endless, and drow were no exception to that.
"All that I learn, on your behalf, chieftain, will remain sealed to you and your chosen companions, I do swear," Danaë offered. "But I feel staying in league with you can only speed my relearning of these Realms."
"Ye speak well, and I'll hold ye to that, aye."
Things went well enough from Longsaddle to Nesme. There, however, the Riders showed their fear in spades as the group recognized a drow at the rear of their party.
"Seriously! What dwarf or aasimir would ever team with an evil drow?!" Regis snapped at their aggression. "We saved your lives! Look at how many of you were down, how many of the horses are foundered?!"
From the flick of attention to him by Wulfgar and Bruenor both, it was surprising for the little one to have put himself forward first. Danaë scoured fro any reason why, flicking back over the muttered words of the Riders and finding nothing. She glanced at Drizzt, actually glad she had taken to staying closer to him on their journey so she could catch his own searching, subtle as it was.
"Pass on by swiftly, then, before we put that to the test," the head of the patrol snarled.
The Companions crossed the river swiftly, leaving clean up to the Riders… but Danaë saw the one Rider dispatched to the city. What further trouble would this be, and what had prompted Regis?
"The print, oddly shaped for a giant, and close to prints of unshod horse-like creatures?" Drizzt asked Regis once they got past the bridge.
"I was going to bring it up to you!" Regis protested. "Luskan was bad, and they might have?"
"Only if they suspect what happened," Drizzt pointed out.
"Makes the most sense of how it went down in their city, especially that guard?"
Drizzt appraised Regis shrewdly, decided not to press for more, or so it seemed to her watchful eyes, before he looked over at Bruenor. "Your thoughts?"
"Bein' glad ye went and found us a wizard, aye," the dwarf said grimly. "Make up yer own mind on what tae be telling. Ye will anyhows."
Drizzt nodded, taking a deep breath and fell back in step with Danaë, giving Wulfgar the lead once more.
"Regis's observations, your own, they leave you uneasy?" she asked in her softest voice.
"We did have trouble in Luskan, and there is something behind us that makes that a threat. Regis is not forthcoming on his own reasons to flee comfort to join us on the road, and if the two threats have merged, or even if they are both there, I will have nothing but worry. I will not speak of the reason Luskan may seek us, other than to assure you the best possible chance is for them to believe Regis or I have what they seek.
"This is for your protection, as you were not part of that then, and should not be pulled in now." Drizzt gave her a shake of his head when she went to protest. "What you do not know, cannot be taken from you."
"A point." She made a rueful smile. "The potential trouble has gone on past us?" she said, inviting him to consider further.
"Meaning they think us to make it to Everlund or Silverymoon, and could ambush us anywhere in that region." Drizzt considered further as they kept moving, trusting Wulfgar's senses for the day time more than his own. When, about an hour later, he looked sharply up, shading his eyes, taking in a bird in the sky, he frowned.
"Working against air currents, and were those jesses I saw from the legs?" Danaë asked, knowing she had and just offering her observations for him to confirm whatever sun-dazzled perceptions he had gathered.
"Nesme means to cause mischief with news arriving ahead of us," he said with a frown. "It might have been some other's message."
"But unlikely, given the timing."
"We need an alternate path; too many ears heard too many things in Longsaddle," Drizzt sighed.
"The Herald's Holdfast," Danaë suggested. "I do know where to reach it, though it has been some time. Bruenor has a legitimate claim to enter the dwarven hall of knowledge there. It's nearer to here than either of the cities you mentioned, but is unlikely to be staked out for ambush, given you have to know how to get there."
Drizzt closed his eyes, considering for a moment — not that it impeded his walking — before he snapped them open and went to Bruenor, forward of them, to let him know. Danaë followed, unsurprised when Bruenor heeded Drizzt after a token protest. That put the two of them, specifically her, in the lead, to change their course.
The problem, Danaë decided, with trying to remain incognito was that many places that were excellent resources did their best to force her to reveal herself.
She wished she had thought of that before Old Night brought them inside, but at least the Herald was not immediately revealing the Holdfast was badgering her with magic.
~Old friend, it is I, please hold the secret; I think you can guess why!~ she sent imploringly, knowing he knew her mental presence quite well from past conversations.
Almost immediately, without a response, the Holdfast ceased trying to strip her polymorph from her.
She let Bruenor handle her introduction alongside his dear friends, and Old Night betrayed nothing then, either. Such a good ally, he was to her and her sisters.
"I journeyed here long ago," she began, "and recalled the halls of knowledge for each species. It was my hope that you might aid, and allow the chieftain access to the Hall of Dwarves, for his quest is a just one."
"So it is, and I will be glad to do so, but first, food and rest is in order, to allow you to tackle the mines of knowledge refreshed, before setting back on the path it leads you to," Old Night told them all, a warm smile gracing them as unseen servants bustled to get a feast in place.
Later, once the Companions slept, she would ask use of his work room, but for now, she joined in the tales shared, choosing off-plane adventures to match the others, so nothing could foul her up in her chosen persona.
Danaë moved with care in Old Knight's workroom, grateful that he kept things adequately stocked and did not mind sharing with wizards he trusted. He was sitting in a chair watching her, paying attention to the Holdfast's wards before finally smiling.
"Even the drow is abed now," he said. "It is good to see you, if rather in a striking fashion."
She smiled at him for that. "It is also good to see you, though you know I would have preferred to keep my anonymity."
"Secrets are always safe with me, and yes, I know you would, but those spells exist within the wards for a reason. A certain silver complains at me about them now and then."
She laughed at that. "The form masks certain traits that grew a bit more noticeable due to recent events… well, recent for our longevity.
"But, as you do know, what can you tell me of our region?"
"That it is well you came here first. Silverymoon is to deny the ranger entry," Old Night said with a sigh. "It is trade season."
"We suspected, after our encounter on the road with Nesme," she told him, "but it does not make me pleased to see my suspicions were correct. I will have to learn if Taern initiated any investigation. As the ranger is strongly favored by Mielikki."
"I can look into that, and preserve your anonymity, my friend," he promised her.
"Anything else?"
"No. Is there anything about your adventurers that should be relayed to Taern to aid his investigation?"
Danaë considered. "Luskan may be on their trail, either with or without a secondary threat hinged on the halfling. We saw tracks of what might be a homunculus aside phantom steed traces — sloppy casting that, but the mud near Nesme is pernicious — and they have reason to believe Luskan is the reason. The halfling's straits have not been revealed, but Drizzt is certain the man is fleeing some danger."
"I will relay that as carefully, and artfully, as I may.
"What is it that you are brewing?"
"An aid, for the memory, once Bruenor has perused the knowledge he can find in your keeping," Danaë told him. "It's a bit stronger than the usual, so maybe it can break his fog."
"A sound plan, as there has been limited reference to his Hall so far. Mostly trade mentioned." Old Night sighed. "Secretive dwarves."
She smiled, nodding, before concentrating on her timing — as she was using chronal spells to enhance this one.
Once Bruenor had taken the potion to go alongside what he found in the Hall of Dwarves, Danaë protected the others of the party with illusions, making them seem as dwarves. Drizzt's grateful look her way had warmed her heart, before she watched the canny drow drive Bruenor's path ever onward, guiding them closer to their goal.
She really did admire that his wits were as sharp as his scimitars.
It was at the suspected door of the Hall that a new surprise intruded, in the sound of great wings beating above them. Drizzt looked up, along with Danaë and Wulfgar, to see a pegasus bearing two riders making their way down to them. Danaë shaded her eyes, making out that it was Methrammar, but the woman with him was a stranger.
"Catti-brie!" Wulfgar called, his eyes keener in the light than Drizzt's.
"Me girl?!" Bruenor roared, turning away from the puzzle of a blank stone wall.
"Greetings to one who rides a pegasus," Drizzt called calmly, but Danaë caught the barest hint of tension in his shoulders.
"Methrammar Aerasumé, and my friend is Beregan," the rider said, before helping the lady to dismount first. That one — oh she seemed young to Danaë's eyes — all but flew to Bruenor, crying out 'Da' so gladly.
In all the tales so far shared, Danaë had never suspected the chieftain's daughter was human-born, though the patter of questions and answers that followed were very much in the dwarven brogue.
Drizzt remained focused on the pegasus, while Regis was all but hiding behind Wulfgar, and that one was as caught up in the woman as Bruenor himself.
"Greetings to you, Beregan, and you, Saer," Danaë said, watching the pegasus slowly be drawn forward, as Drizzt's hand rose, hesitantly. She could see the surprise in Methri's face as the ranger and pegasus slowly connected, a look of awe shining on the drow features.
"First time meeting one of them?" Methri called softly once the petting had subsided.
"Yes," Drizzt said, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Beregan, for indulging me."
The pegasus whickered at him, before looking over the others.
"I cannot stay, but Chieftain Battlehammer?" Methri called.
Bruenor looked over, which let Catti-brie slide into Wulfgar's protective hold.
"Nesme sought to sour relations with your party, and we are going to turn that thrust aside as swiftly as we can, aided by the Church of Mielikki," Methri said with regret. "Arch Mage Taern Hornblade invites you to come there, once the quest is at an end, as he is certain the miscommunication will be cleared up.
"He looks forward to being of aid to your needs."
Danaë was so relieved to hear that, and unsurprised the Church was involved, even as she saw a faint embarrassment on Drizzt's face.
"Cut that out, me elf," Bruenor growled. "Right good of your Lady's people tae fix what those idiots on the road pulled with trying tae cut us off from potential allies."
The slight widening of Methri's eyes amused Danaë, as she had grown used to the affectionate way Bruenor referred to her drow friend.
"As you will. And thank you for bringing our friend to us," Drizzt said, before Beregan backed away enough to get himself back into the air.
"Regis… the man ye were runnin' from," Catti-brie said, once the pair were away. "He was killed in Silverymoon, along with the pair as were put on ye all from the Hightower."
Regis cringed, and a new round of fast words began, but Catti-brie let go of Wulfgar to come to Drizzt's side and look patently at the stranger in their midst. Danaë met her eyes, amused that the woman had been astute enough to guess who had invited the wizard into the group.
"Danaë Shundar, please meet Catti-brie of clan Battlehammer, my dearest and oldest friend on the surface — that walks on two legs, anyhow," Drizzt said, and Danaë would bet long odds that he'd added a bit of humor to better set the tone of the meeting on purpose.
Catti-brie gave a snort at him for that, but also gave a head bob to Danaë. "Me ranger has a good eye and ear for people, so like as not, ye be a fine addition, when none but he uses magic tae speak of."
"I do not," Drizzt said mildly, and it was all Danaë could do not to stare at him, having witnessed his ability to dissuade creatures from turning hostile on their journey.
"Sure, me ranger. Had me some long talks with one o' yer clerics. Not believin' ye now."
Drizzt looked honestly confused, but shrugged and went back to trying to figure out the door. Danaë looked at Catti-brie a moment, then shook her head.
"Some rangers just can't see it for that, I hear," she offered the newcomer, hoping to meet approval, oddly enough, with this person that Drizzt praised so as friend.
"Can't help but twit him, though," Catti said, agreeing to that, before they joined the men in solving the puzzle of entry.
While the Companions had managed to make the Hall open, and they had explored all the way down to the dwarven undercity, Danaë wondered if the price was going to be one unusual drow's life. He had staggered back to them, ashen in color once they could see him under light, and shook his head about speaking of what he had seen.
His urging to get them outside, as swiftly as possible, but forbidding her from casting anymagic had only intensified the concern growing in her soul.
Now he was lying flat on is back, head in Catti-brie's lap, staring fixedly at the stars above him, hands wrapped solidly around a black figure of wondrous power. The young woman was stroking his hair, and looking as anguished as the chieftain looked on in concern.
"Is there some way for ye tae aid me elf, Danaë?" Bruenor asked, trusting in Wulfgar and even Regis to keep sharp eyes out for any sign of trouble or pursuit, now that they had made it down and over the river ford.
"Hush, Bruenor," Drizzt said, moving to sit up — and the young woman stopped that with a hand to his shoulder. "Magic won't cure shade damage, not hers," he said as firmly as he could.
"Ye told us tae steer clear o' the deep dark!" Catti-brie protested.
"There was little choice when I had to freeze in such a place to avoid detection," Drizzt said mildly.
"He is correct. If I had an elixir, I could at best fortify him to get him to aid the long way, but there is something I can do," Danaë said. "I have allies, that no matter appearances, trust me well enough for me to teleport him there for healing.
"I swear that no harm would come to you, Drizzt, and they are truly good people that wish only to help."
All of them were watching her, before they looked at their drow, and it was Bruenor who took in a breath before Drizzt could speak, blustering through.
"Ye go with her, lad. I cannae lose ye; need yer eyes tae clear me Hall once I find a way tae take it back."
Drizzt shut his mouth at that, then looked up at Catti-brie. "Take Guen. Call her at any trouble you find," he admonished. "You plan to go to Silverymoon as invited, Bruenor?"
"Aye. And we'll see ye both there, soon as ye can be," Bruenor answered.
"I'll keep her safe," Catti answered, taking the figure from him. She then let him stagger up, his grace sorely lacking as testimony to his state.
"Bruenor, it is a shadow-dragon, and has two shadow-hounds at its call. You will need wizards — no, Wulfgar, it is far more dangerous than the dragon you slew already."
"We, you mean, my teacher. And I listen."
Danaë's heart quailed to hear Drizzt name the enemy, but she was moving to support him, getting a firm hold on him.
"Until Silverymoon," she said, before teleporting him to the glen closest to the hidden enclave of goodly drow.
She was thankful for that firm grasp, as he swayed heavily from the change in location. "I have you, my friend."
"So you do… mountains, woodlands… sea?" he asked, trying to anchor himself in the here and now.
"We are near the Sword Coast, in the Sword Mountains," she agreed.
"Never wandered here." He frowned, and disentangled himself, moving to a tree and leaning on it.
"Sit, Drizzt; my friends may take a few minutes to come let us in."
He obeyed, with no protest, worrying her even further.
~Sister, the drow I have spoken of has shade damage and we are at the entry portal.~
~It is a good thing you already solved the mystery of him, or this would be awkward. Coming!~ Qilué answered her.
Danaë kept her smile to herself; that had been a very wearying night, communing with their Mother while Drizzt and his friends slept to remove the spell upon him. She knew Eilistraee had not yet intruded in his dreams, only because he'd had no strange awakenings, and appreciated the goodly goddess being cautious.
Drizzt had closed his eyes, and she felt brief alarm. "You know to stay awake?"
"Yes. Running through sword exercises in my head to stay as alert as I can."
"Good. Not long now."
Nor was she wrong, as Danaë spotted Elkantar, a fighter she did not know — carrying a stretcher it appeared — and Qilué herself approaching hastily in the evening dimness to get to them.
"Peace," Elkantar called as soon as Drizzt started to try to get back up, alarm written through him.
"Truly, Drizzt. Trust in me to know the nature of my allies?" Danaë said softly, and the man leaned back against his tree. His eyes did go very wide as he saw just how tall Qilué stood.
"I have come to trust you, but this is — "
"Far outside your realm of experience, I am told," Qilué said, having come close enough to be in reach, but not yet touching him. "Ranger Do'Urden, I am told you have shade damage, and I can see how drained you are. Will you allow Elkantar and Sriva to carry you into our haven, where I can most fully sink into the needed healing?
"For some particular reason, we don't like to remain where we might be spied and taken for evil drow." She let some humor bleed into her tone, letting Danaë delight in the fact Drizzt managed a wry moue at the words.
"I will bring no goodly folk to risk of harm, so yes," he agreed, mollified by whatever impressions his fascinating ability to discern magic and alignment had given him, Danaë decided. Elkantar and Sriva — good to have his name — swiftly opened out the stretcher. Danaë had moved, and she was the one to help Drizzt settle on the stretcher once the men had it held between them.
"I could have provided a floating disk," she said playfully. "As someone quite rightly forbid me from any casting until we escaped our little adventure."
"No need, our friend," Elkantar said with a grin. "If I help carry him, our sword mistress might go easier on me at practice in deference to my exertion."
Qilué laughed brightly even as she guided them all to the portal under its illusion. "Oh you are not that lucky; she wants you back in fighting shape."
"Elkantar, have you been injured?" Danaë asked with worry.
"Well past it, and just working on stamina now. Xinval did an admirable job healing us at the last battle."
The chatter continued, with Danaë hopeful that it was helping Drizzt settle to the nature of the aid she had brought him to.
Danaë came in after Drizzt answered her, and could not help smiling to see him sitting up, his skin back to its proper hue under the permanent faerie fire in the room he'd been given off the main chamber of the infirmary.
"You look more yourself."
"I feel I should be back with my friends," he admitted, looking sheepish to be abed even as she came to sit beside him on the stool there.
"It's a five day journey, at least, from Fourth Peak to Silverymoon. We've only been here three, even if you slept most of one of those." She reached out to rest her hand on his nearer one. "If I may be so bold, I have a suspicion you'd pushed yourself harder than any of them against all threats before I met with you, and a long rest was overdue."
"Longsaddle and the Holdfast were rest enough," he said stubbornly, but he turned his hand over, so their palms were touching. "And your company, with the tales you've shared, all that you've seen? Has given my spirit rest of another sort, slaking some of the endless hunger to know more."
Her smile softened at that, even as the earnest yearning she'd seen called even more to her very nature. To have him as a friend, with his need to learn and his goodly nature would be a boon… but was it safe to let him know more of who she was?
"Drizzt, I am very glad I was at the Ivy Manor when you came there," she told him. "Apart from enjoying the chance to aid a quest like Bruenor's, I find myself eager to see what further challenges I find in your company."
He met her gaze evenly, a small look of awe on his features, before he took a sly smile and wicked look in his eyes. "Careful, my friend, or you may find that a challenge to my future troubles."
"Is that an invitation to enjoy them with you?" she asked him, loving that impish sense of humor.
"I believe I would very much enjoy adventuring with a wizard who is not inept, capricious, or malevolent for some time, yes."
She squeezed the hand in hers, before boldly reaching up with her other to push an errant lock of hair behind his ear. Only because she was watching his face so intently did she catch the slight shift in his eyes, as that small gesture struck a chord with him.
"I wish to hear of these wizards that have given you such a poor taste of the Arts," she said, settling on her stool but not relinquishing his hand. "And continue to strive to show you better.
"For now, would you let me escort you to the community meal, so you can see your own people in a better setting?"
"I think that sounds wonderful."
Danaë debated herself, and her two sisters — Syluné was still here, though Laeral had been whisked away by a fellow Chosen for a change of scenery — about if she should tell Drizzt before they went back to his friends and the city of her heart.
In the end, she decided it would make it easier if he had no idea of her history with the city, but likely make it that much harder to find a good opportunity to admit her identity after. She pushed herself to go find him, catching him as he was leaving the training grounds, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
She was almost sad that she had not followed the exodus of so many of the residents to go see the sparring.
Later, maybe — if this went well.
"You're probably wanting to go and bathe," she said as she fell in step with him. "After, may I speak with you privately?"
He appraised her, then offered her his hand. "Come; speak with me now. I should cool further before I slip into water."
Her throat felt thick with emotion as she took that offered hand, letting him guide her to his room. He started removing his swords and boots, indicating she could sit on the bed if she liked, and she decided that was best. When he finished, she thrilled further at his willingness to sit beside her.
"I am growing very fond of you, Drizzt," she began. "In a way that I know from my past as meaning it could grow into something more, if you were so inclined, or become a very deep friendship that lasts for ages."
He shifted to have one foot on the floor, off the edge of the sturdy convalescent's bed, drawing his other leg up to hook his arms around the knee, watching her intently.
"I enjoy time spent with you, and believe I may be sharing your sentiment," he admitted. "But… it is new to me, this wish that I have no true words for.
"It is not the fondness weighing on you, but something else." His voice was calm, his eyes were kind, and she had his complete attention.
There was nothing for it but to be honest now. "This face, this name, they are not who I truly am," she told him. "Well, I am still adhering to who I am, but this is a disguise, to allow me to travel freely as I had not done in… oh a very long time."
There was no anger, no distrust in his features, but honest concern, and a flare of that protective nature she had seen more than once in the weeks since they had met.
"Then, hold that secret for now, Danaë, be this face and name for now, until such time as I have made my friend's home safe for the clan. After, then we can talk, if you choose to enlighten me, so that I can be a knowing ally in your need to avoid those who made it necessary."
What did she even do with such faith? He was absolutely amazing, and she leaned forward, touching her forehead to his when he moved to meet her. Resting there like that, she closed her eyes, and knew her heart was half-gone to him. The fullness of it would have to be explored, but if he would stay in her life, she would not let go any time soon.
The prickle of 'but what if he doesn't make it' tracked along her spine, and she stamped on it by knowing Qilué would not stand for that death to last, if it came to pass.
"May I know why you are choosing not to press now?" she asked.
"The weight of Bruenor's quest, the idea of that dragon wresting secrets from me when we face it, the need to be able to learn all of you when I am not distracted by my friends' needs," he told her.
"That all makes perfectly good sense," she admitted, before drawing back.
This time, it was him to tuck her errant tendril of hair behind her ear, and she knew he was testing his boundaries from the way his eyes stayed on her. She tipped her face into his hand before he could pull it away, and he smiled.
She could wait, for all of his reasons, and anticipate what they could be, once there was honest sharing.
A shadow dragon's reign ended, and dwarves returned to the Frost Hills. A Chosen remained hidden, even as her sisters slowly resumed their lives, enjoying the company of an unusual drow ranger. Her secret was safe in his keeping, even as the Realms had to grow accustomed to an aasimir and drow couple, working to make the world a little better.