Drizzt Meets Vierna
Jan. 17th, 2024 06:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senmut posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tales_of_faerunHunting (2451 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Drizzt Do'Urden, Laeral Silverhand, Qilué Veladorn, Vierna Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
While he had an advantage when facing down gorgons, able to fight blind from his years of training with his father, they were stronger and canny. He didn't dare bring Guen to the fight, as she was not immune to their gaze.
And, apparently, time was running out. He could feel the fever of their poison in his veins, with only two of them slain so far, and the last one grief-mad in its need to kill him.
He did not regret taking the time to damage the eyes in both corpses, but it had been in doing so that he'd been bit by one of the snakes as it lashed out in the death throes.
He took the time to bind the gash from the first one he had killed. He left the bite wound uncovered, inanely hoping the poison would bleed back out that way. He then drew himself into communion with the land.
It was a risk, but he needed to find the last one, kill it, before it could move on to the hamlet in its grief. He reminded himself that he had warned them to move on, that the first attack had been from one of them.
If only he'd been faster in the original globe of darkness to dispatch them all.
Focus. He needed focus to commune.
There, to his northeast, between him and the hamlet, there was a blight that did not belong! He drew strength from the land, speed from the wind, and moved, knowing that every bit of his drawing on nature sped the poison and the blood loss.
The gorgon hissed and so did the snake-tendrils, revamping Drizzt's childhood rage at such things. They were like the clerics' whips, and he would not let them strike again. Her eyes were coming up, never noting that he only held one scimitar now. The other hand moved, even as Drizzt shut his eyes.
Her howl of anguish told him the slim throwing blade was embedded as he meant, before he rushed with the last of the speed, scimitar going in just below the ribs, angled up.
Her talons managed to rake his cheek, but he leveraged the sword and she breathed her last.
Now, using a foot to place the body's fall correctly, he put the sword through the remaining eye, and danced away from a snake that lashed out.
He'd done it, managed to slay the last. With his body beginning to tremor, he moved away, turning his back on the corpse, so he could look, try to find a safe place to den.
The ground rushed up to meet him, as he paid the price of being a lone ranger pushed too far into the use of the wilds.
The first thing he noticed was how warm he was. He seemed to be under a heavy quilt, in a real bed, with walls around him. There was a contained heat source nearby, a brazier or stove maybe.
He was also not alone.
"No need to sham sleep, Drizzt Do'Urden. You are safe in my home."
He opened his eyes then to see a woman with silver hair that seemed familiar but not known to him.
She was wearing a dress under robes that screamed magic at him.
"Pardon, but you have my name and I don't have yours."
"Laeral Silverhand. Dove Falconhand's sister."
It did not make any sense, not that Drizzt could make work. He'd had the one encounter, that first year, and then the letter the following year. Five years later and he was hearing the name again, while becoming indebted to her family?
What was going on? Had they managed to get a spell on him all that time ago? Why use it now to locate him?
"You are very confused, no doubt." The wizard — she had to be, to all of his senses, strange as it was — leaned toward the bed from her chair. "Dove's husband is a favorite of Mielikki. She implored help for you."
Drizzt closed his eyes at that. Why had a goddess interceded? What price would he ultimately pay for the interest Mielikki had given him over the years?
~You pay it, day after day. You are like Me, and I am like you.~
The words, whispered across his mind, in the voice of the leaves and breezes he so loved, actually did reassure him in his soul. He had agreed to do Her work, so long as She held to her path… and maybe he had paid the price of this help.
"Thank you, for answering that call to aid me," he said. "I know the poison was winning."
"Hmm, yes. That actually required a cleric, but we decided you shouldn't be overwhelmed by meeting two of us. My cleric sister has already left."
Drizzt turned his face to her, eyes opening again, troubled by the amount of effort being given —
— "Ranger Do'Urden, we are the Chosen of Mystra, charged with certain tasks. Any other adventurer that has embraced the life of giving so selflessly as to tackle three gorgons all on his own is the kind of person we wish to invest in aiding!" Laeral said quite firmly. "No speaking of debts, anymore than you as a ranger would accept them from those you save."
"It is hard," he admitted.
"Hmm, yes. I don't manage it often myself, but. It is sometimes needed. Now, drink this broth, sleep some more, and we can discuss things more after," Laeral said, moving to aid him in the drinking.
Drizzt gave in, and found sleep came easier than expected, once he had the warm liquid in his belly.
"Are all drow as resilient as you are?" Laeral asked, watching her guest get his gear fully on.
"I think I may have an advantage," he told her, eyes gleaming a little with amusement. He'd told her his history, and she had been amazed by his ability to survive.
"Well, you should try not to push it so much," she told him. "Do you want to be taken back to where you were, or would you like to explore in this region?"
The offer was tempting, but Drizzt sighed. "I had begun storing food for winter near where I was; I should go there."
"Or you could stay here, and winter with others like you," Laeral tempted. "As the nasty little spell your city's patron put on you is gone, you'd be allowed to join the others."
Drizzt recalled the brief discussion of Eilistraee and good drow, as well as Laeral mentioning the removal of a shroud that hid him from them. He hadn't pieced that together with the idea that these supposedly good drow were near here.
"Then… I will stay."
"Good. You can anticipate them finding you in due time; the song that has been in your dreams will guide you and them toward one another," Laeral explained. She then studied his appearance. "Good luck, Drizzt Do'Urden. I think I will be hearing more of you, in due time."
"Fare well, Laeral Silverhand, and I hope your adventures are smooth."
After treating the poisoned and injured ranger, Qilué discussed the other matter, and stayed long enough for Laeral to contend with that. She only reluctantly gave in about leaving, understanding from the way the ranger was dressed and his gear that the man had likely been alone a long while.
Dove's own words on the matter placed his arrival on the surface several years previous, so it was likely that meeting a towering drow woman was not a good idea.
With a sigh, she took herself home, but she reached out to the leader of the other major encampment of free drow.
~If you can clear your schedule, my sister in our Lady, please come visit soon,~ she told the other priestess by sending.
She could tell Vierna was startled by that request, but the reply came swiftly.
~It will be a few days, but I will come.~
Qilué guided her fellow priestess to a cozy nook inside the area her own people were shaping into a home.
"I am sorry to pull you from your own people, but I thought this needed said face to face. And to have you in this region, in case you choose to act on it."
Vierna tipped her head slightly, an eyebrow arching. Qilué found the facial construction between this woman and the patient she had left under her sister's care very similar, lending strength to the idea of a relationship between them.
"We did not have much happening," Vierna said softly. "Tell me what it is?"
"I was called to heal a young ranger who had taken on three gorgons on his own, slain them all, but was succumbing to his wounds from communing too deeply with the land to do it," Qilué began. "A goddess had directly intervened to get aid to him, through my sister Dove's husband.
"Laeral responded, and then requested me for how far gone he was." She paused. "And because he was a drow."
"Alright. Was it in the region I try to guide?" Vierna asked, curious where this was going by her face.
"No, he was well away from either of our groups." Qilué took one of her hands. "His name is Drizzt Do'Urden, and until Laeral and Mystra, thank Her for everything, removed a magical shroud, he could not be perceived by our Lady. At all.
"Yet… he is truly Good."
The double impact of that, the shared family name and the idea that a good drow fully cut off from their deity, took Vierna's breath away. Qilué held her hand through it, waiting for her to be able to speak again.
"Where is he?"
"With Laeral, though she says he's recovering swiftly. She's going to try to convince him to stay in this area, winter with us. As she didn't know your family name, I let it go at that." Qilué gave her a soft smile. "He's been alone on the surface for several years. Laeral encouraged me not to be his first drow contact."
"You are… impressive," Vierna agreed. "Which goddess interceded for him?"
"Mielikki. Apparently She's on first name basis with Florin. And more, according to some bard's tales," Qilué said in a lighter vein.
It did make Vierna smile at least.
"Do you think Ravenna would come?" Vierna asked. "My people know her and love her, and she is close in strength to me, so I would not feel I am abdicating duty.
"But I would very much like to be here once this ranger is up and about, if your sister convinces him. If not… I will choose scouts of my own to find him, and try to guide him to us, in the north."
"She probably will. Talk it over with her, and then, once Laeral tells me his choice, I will relay it so things can be arranged."
Vierna thought her fellow drow were wonderful, if exasperating, in that they had carefully avoided the ranger exploring the region, so that she could have the first contact. It was well into autumn when she and Ravenna exchanged duties and locations, as far as the north was concerned, but just truly cooling off down here.
She gave a few days work to the Promenade itself, then took a small pack and headed out into the woods, following the last known sighting of Drizzt and guided by Eilistraee. As he seemed to be moving closer to where the entrance was, either She was guiding him as well, or their people had not been as unnoticed as they thought.
She finally stopped when the song felt like it was a warning, and made a simple camp, just waiting. The very next night, she felt eyes on her, but remained calm — if ready to protect herself should it prove to not be the ranger.
As it was, the ranger was bold enough after an hour or so of her having noticed the feeling. He walked toward her, almost melting out of a shadow, his green cloak's hood thrown back, and his lavender eyes focused on her alone, the gleam of them shocking in that unusual color.
There was a familiarity to the man. Maybe it was the twin blades and hair worn free. Maybe it was the confidence. Either way, Vierna was poignantly reminded of the one good thing of her childhood, the Weapon Master.
"Greetings, Drizzt Do'Urden," she called to him as he approached. He paused, then continued, coming to lean against the tree closest to her camp.
"You know my name. I do not know yours. And you are a priestess."
Oh but that was an indictment of all drow women, she suspected. Even knowing of good drow, this man had been traumatized strongly enough to still be wary.
"I am called Vierna. Vierna Do'Urden, when I care to use the family name. And you are some relation to me, I suspect, as Daermon N'a'shezbaernon is not known outside of the Spider's City," she added.
His eyes went wide, just at her first name, and then as she kept talking, he actually moved to sit close to her. The ancestral name was not widely known or used, after all, and she knew she'd pronounced it correctly.
"My fa — the Weapon Master mentioned your name to me, once. Said you'd been stolen, and never mention you to Briza or Mo — the Matron."
A faint tremor of emotion went through Vierna for knowing the man she had revered had spoken of her, and then she realized that the young man had been raised in such a way that he had been closer to their mother than was safe for any drow male. What betrayal had finally broken that bond, she wondered, but did not press.
"Your father was kind to remember me," she said. "And I envy you the time you had with him, if you were close enough that he would mention me.
"I was stolen — by myself! I knew the temple would kill me, as I had heard Eilistraee all my life and refused to be like them."
He smiled a little, then nodded. "Father thought the school would kill me or make me like other drow. But fighters only endure ten years of that.
"I… did not have the song, but I was strange, to all other drow, all my life."
Vierna returned the smile. "We must have gotten it from him. As I am all but certain he was my father too."
"Then… hello, sister."
"Hello, little brother."
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Drizzt Do'Urden, Laeral Silverhand, Qilué Veladorn, Vierna Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
Drizzt found a bigger hunt than he should have taken on.
Hunting
Drizzt was bleeding, badly, and yet this was one hunt he could not retreat from.While he had an advantage when facing down gorgons, able to fight blind from his years of training with his father, they were stronger and canny. He didn't dare bring Guen to the fight, as she was not immune to their gaze.
And, apparently, time was running out. He could feel the fever of their poison in his veins, with only two of them slain so far, and the last one grief-mad in its need to kill him.
He did not regret taking the time to damage the eyes in both corpses, but it had been in doing so that he'd been bit by one of the snakes as it lashed out in the death throes.
He took the time to bind the gash from the first one he had killed. He left the bite wound uncovered, inanely hoping the poison would bleed back out that way. He then drew himself into communion with the land.
It was a risk, but he needed to find the last one, kill it, before it could move on to the hamlet in its grief. He reminded himself that he had warned them to move on, that the first attack had been from one of them.
If only he'd been faster in the original globe of darkness to dispatch them all.
Focus. He needed focus to commune.
There, to his northeast, between him and the hamlet, there was a blight that did not belong! He drew strength from the land, speed from the wind, and moved, knowing that every bit of his drawing on nature sped the poison and the blood loss.
The gorgon hissed and so did the snake-tendrils, revamping Drizzt's childhood rage at such things. They were like the clerics' whips, and he would not let them strike again. Her eyes were coming up, never noting that he only held one scimitar now. The other hand moved, even as Drizzt shut his eyes.
Her howl of anguish told him the slim throwing blade was embedded as he meant, before he rushed with the last of the speed, scimitar going in just below the ribs, angled up.
Her talons managed to rake his cheek, but he leveraged the sword and she breathed her last.
Now, using a foot to place the body's fall correctly, he put the sword through the remaining eye, and danced away from a snake that lashed out.
He'd done it, managed to slay the last. With his body beginning to tremor, he moved away, turning his back on the corpse, so he could look, try to find a safe place to den.
The ground rushed up to meet him, as he paid the price of being a lone ranger pushed too far into the use of the wilds.
The first thing he noticed was how warm he was. He seemed to be under a heavy quilt, in a real bed, with walls around him. There was a contained heat source nearby, a brazier or stove maybe.
He was also not alone.
"No need to sham sleep, Drizzt Do'Urden. You are safe in my home."
He opened his eyes then to see a woman with silver hair that seemed familiar but not known to him.
She was wearing a dress under robes that screamed magic at him.
"Pardon, but you have my name and I don't have yours."
"Laeral Silverhand. Dove Falconhand's sister."
It did not make any sense, not that Drizzt could make work. He'd had the one encounter, that first year, and then the letter the following year. Five years later and he was hearing the name again, while becoming indebted to her family?
What was going on? Had they managed to get a spell on him all that time ago? Why use it now to locate him?
"You are very confused, no doubt." The wizard — she had to be, to all of his senses, strange as it was — leaned toward the bed from her chair. "Dove's husband is a favorite of Mielikki. She implored help for you."
Drizzt closed his eyes at that. Why had a goddess interceded? What price would he ultimately pay for the interest Mielikki had given him over the years?
~You pay it, day after day. You are like Me, and I am like you.~
The words, whispered across his mind, in the voice of the leaves and breezes he so loved, actually did reassure him in his soul. He had agreed to do Her work, so long as She held to her path… and maybe he had paid the price of this help.
"Thank you, for answering that call to aid me," he said. "I know the poison was winning."
"Hmm, yes. That actually required a cleric, but we decided you shouldn't be overwhelmed by meeting two of us. My cleric sister has already left."
Drizzt turned his face to her, eyes opening again, troubled by the amount of effort being given —
— "Ranger Do'Urden, we are the Chosen of Mystra, charged with certain tasks. Any other adventurer that has embraced the life of giving so selflessly as to tackle three gorgons all on his own is the kind of person we wish to invest in aiding!" Laeral said quite firmly. "No speaking of debts, anymore than you as a ranger would accept them from those you save."
"It is hard," he admitted.
"Hmm, yes. I don't manage it often myself, but. It is sometimes needed. Now, drink this broth, sleep some more, and we can discuss things more after," Laeral said, moving to aid him in the drinking.
Drizzt gave in, and found sleep came easier than expected, once he had the warm liquid in his belly.
"Are all drow as resilient as you are?" Laeral asked, watching her guest get his gear fully on.
"I think I may have an advantage," he told her, eyes gleaming a little with amusement. He'd told her his history, and she had been amazed by his ability to survive.
"Well, you should try not to push it so much," she told him. "Do you want to be taken back to where you were, or would you like to explore in this region?"
The offer was tempting, but Drizzt sighed. "I had begun storing food for winter near where I was; I should go there."
"Or you could stay here, and winter with others like you," Laeral tempted. "As the nasty little spell your city's patron put on you is gone, you'd be allowed to join the others."
Drizzt recalled the brief discussion of Eilistraee and good drow, as well as Laeral mentioning the removal of a shroud that hid him from them. He hadn't pieced that together with the idea that these supposedly good drow were near here.
"Then… I will stay."
"Good. You can anticipate them finding you in due time; the song that has been in your dreams will guide you and them toward one another," Laeral explained. She then studied his appearance. "Good luck, Drizzt Do'Urden. I think I will be hearing more of you, in due time."
"Fare well, Laeral Silverhand, and I hope your adventures are smooth."
Sister
After treating the poisoned and injured ranger, Qilué discussed the other matter, and stayed long enough for Laeral to contend with that. She only reluctantly gave in about leaving, understanding from the way the ranger was dressed and his gear that the man had likely been alone a long while.
Dove's own words on the matter placed his arrival on the surface several years previous, so it was likely that meeting a towering drow woman was not a good idea.
With a sigh, she took herself home, but she reached out to the leader of the other major encampment of free drow.
~If you can clear your schedule, my sister in our Lady, please come visit soon,~ she told the other priestess by sending.
She could tell Vierna was startled by that request, but the reply came swiftly.
~It will be a few days, but I will come.~
Qilué guided her fellow priestess to a cozy nook inside the area her own people were shaping into a home.
"I am sorry to pull you from your own people, but I thought this needed said face to face. And to have you in this region, in case you choose to act on it."
Vierna tipped her head slightly, an eyebrow arching. Qilué found the facial construction between this woman and the patient she had left under her sister's care very similar, lending strength to the idea of a relationship between them.
"We did not have much happening," Vierna said softly. "Tell me what it is?"
"I was called to heal a young ranger who had taken on three gorgons on his own, slain them all, but was succumbing to his wounds from communing too deeply with the land to do it," Qilué began. "A goddess had directly intervened to get aid to him, through my sister Dove's husband.
"Laeral responded, and then requested me for how far gone he was." She paused. "And because he was a drow."
"Alright. Was it in the region I try to guide?" Vierna asked, curious where this was going by her face.
"No, he was well away from either of our groups." Qilué took one of her hands. "His name is Drizzt Do'Urden, and until Laeral and Mystra, thank Her for everything, removed a magical shroud, he could not be perceived by our Lady. At all.
"Yet… he is truly Good."
The double impact of that, the shared family name and the idea that a good drow fully cut off from their deity, took Vierna's breath away. Qilué held her hand through it, waiting for her to be able to speak again.
"Where is he?"
"With Laeral, though she says he's recovering swiftly. She's going to try to convince him to stay in this area, winter with us. As she didn't know your family name, I let it go at that." Qilué gave her a soft smile. "He's been alone on the surface for several years. Laeral encouraged me not to be his first drow contact."
"You are… impressive," Vierna agreed. "Which goddess interceded for him?"
"Mielikki. Apparently She's on first name basis with Florin. And more, according to some bard's tales," Qilué said in a lighter vein.
It did make Vierna smile at least.
"Do you think Ravenna would come?" Vierna asked. "My people know her and love her, and she is close in strength to me, so I would not feel I am abdicating duty.
"But I would very much like to be here once this ranger is up and about, if your sister convinces him. If not… I will choose scouts of my own to find him, and try to guide him to us, in the north."
"She probably will. Talk it over with her, and then, once Laeral tells me his choice, I will relay it so things can be arranged."
Vierna thought her fellow drow were wonderful, if exasperating, in that they had carefully avoided the ranger exploring the region, so that she could have the first contact. It was well into autumn when she and Ravenna exchanged duties and locations, as far as the north was concerned, but just truly cooling off down here.
She gave a few days work to the Promenade itself, then took a small pack and headed out into the woods, following the last known sighting of Drizzt and guided by Eilistraee. As he seemed to be moving closer to where the entrance was, either She was guiding him as well, or their people had not been as unnoticed as they thought.
She finally stopped when the song felt like it was a warning, and made a simple camp, just waiting. The very next night, she felt eyes on her, but remained calm — if ready to protect herself should it prove to not be the ranger.
As it was, the ranger was bold enough after an hour or so of her having noticed the feeling. He walked toward her, almost melting out of a shadow, his green cloak's hood thrown back, and his lavender eyes focused on her alone, the gleam of them shocking in that unusual color.
There was a familiarity to the man. Maybe it was the twin blades and hair worn free. Maybe it was the confidence. Either way, Vierna was poignantly reminded of the one good thing of her childhood, the Weapon Master.
"Greetings, Drizzt Do'Urden," she called to him as he approached. He paused, then continued, coming to lean against the tree closest to her camp.
"You know my name. I do not know yours. And you are a priestess."
Oh but that was an indictment of all drow women, she suspected. Even knowing of good drow, this man had been traumatized strongly enough to still be wary.
"I am called Vierna. Vierna Do'Urden, when I care to use the family name. And you are some relation to me, I suspect, as Daermon N'a'shezbaernon is not known outside of the Spider's City," she added.
His eyes went wide, just at her first name, and then as she kept talking, he actually moved to sit close to her. The ancestral name was not widely known or used, after all, and she knew she'd pronounced it correctly.
"My fa — the Weapon Master mentioned your name to me, once. Said you'd been stolen, and never mention you to Briza or Mo — the Matron."
A faint tremor of emotion went through Vierna for knowing the man she had revered had spoken of her, and then she realized that the young man had been raised in such a way that he had been closer to their mother than was safe for any drow male. What betrayal had finally broken that bond, she wondered, but did not press.
"Your father was kind to remember me," she said. "And I envy you the time you had with him, if you were close enough that he would mention me.
"I was stolen — by myself! I knew the temple would kill me, as I had heard Eilistraee all my life and refused to be like them."
He smiled a little, then nodded. "Father thought the school would kill me or make me like other drow. But fighters only endure ten years of that.
"I… did not have the song, but I was strange, to all other drow, all my life."
Vierna returned the smile. "We must have gotten it from him. As I am all but certain he was my father too."
"Then… hello, sister."
"Hello, little brother."
