*sighs in contentment* There's nothing like a rereading of the Drizzt series to help stimulate my muse. Man, I never realized until I read the second book again, just how high I put Drizzt on a pedestal... kind of unrealistic of me to do so, but I can't help it! I just see him as being so perfect, even though he isn't. This might affect my writing in the future.

Hello everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Years. I know I did!

Here is the next chapter, thank you all for waiting so patiently. I am happy to see some new faces in the reviews, that always cheers me up no matter what kind of day I'm having.

Review responses:

Names Have Power: I can't answer you, for that would be telling.

Kitsune Lover: Thank you for the brain matter. I did well on my finals :)


I do not in any way, shape, or form own Drizzt Do'Urden or anything else of Salvatore's.

Chapter 9


Drizzt stared into space as he felt along his shoulder-blade. Just a few inches from his side, was a circle of scar tissue. A scar that was roughly 1.5 inches in diameter. A similar one was mirrored on his right shoulder. Findings that he discovered as soon as he was behind a locked door.

The patrol group that went up to the surface had returned roughly 7 days since the slaughtering of the surface elves. There were a few battles with the undercreatures that dwelt in the area of their travels. Nothing that was truly lethal for a group of drow (which was unusually lucky, for there were at least 13 races, who's territory covered their path) for they all got back without too much injury.

As soon as they returned, Drizzt and Dinin had been allowed to return to their House. Drizzt immediately went to his room, claiming a need of rest at their arrival.

Drizzt touched the scar, his mind full of the dream and the implications of the scar following him into real life. He knew that the dreams weren't normal, but that had just been a suspicion, this confirmed it. Even more pressing than the dreams, however; was the feeling that Drizzt had gotten ever since he got back to Menzoberranzan. He was fighting it even now, a great urge to flee. To run from this place and never look back.

Drizzt would do so even now, except for the few things that were holding him back. He had no clue how he would survive out there in the Underdark, would he have to deal with pursuit, from his house alone or others. His teacher definitely wouldn't just let him go with such a valuable treasure as Guenhwyvar. These reasons plagued him, but they weren't his main concern.

The Weapons Master, the only drow he thought of as a 'friend.' Drizzt would be leaving him behind and that did not sit well with him. Zak has been his teacher for years. They grew a bond with each other and Drizzt did not want to lose that.

Even this—though, it was strong—wasn't the most pressing; Drizzt was nervous. Drizzt may be over 30 years old (1), but to an elf (be it drow or surface) he was still a child. He might be able to survive, his skills were sufficient enough for that, but he wasn't an animal. Drizzt will be leaving the comforts of the familiar and go into a life of isolation. He will eventually want companionship—need it even. If Zaknefain did come with him, that problem would be solved, but if he did not...

The drow gnawed at his lip as he thought. Could he convince Zaknefain to leave all of this and come with him to where they will always be on edge? Most of the creatures that lived there were carnivores and for those who were of sentient thinking, were mostly enemies of the drow race.

'Who could blame them,' Drizzt thought 'All the ones we meet either become slaves or get tortured to death.'

The Underdark was no place for the unaware. Your first mistake could very well be your last in such an environment.

Drizzt kept feeling his new scars. He didn't like his options, but that feeling just wasn't going away. He would have to talk to Zaknefain soon, if not now.

Drizzt looked around his room for things he would need when he left. There wasn't much for him to take, just his weapons, Guen, the necklace, and the clothes on his back. Everything else was the materials he gathered from his secret travels to the Underdark during Melee Magthere. Not of much use when there wasn't anyone to trade them with.

Other than those objects, his room was bare. Not surprising for a male drow. Unlike females who get lavished with gifts in the hopes of favor from lovers/allies. The only sensual reaction a male could expect from a female is the lust that will only last for as long as he pleases her.

Drizzt was lucky on being able to avoid such attentions so far, not as if the females haven't tried. The declaration of an unknown mate warded them off, but that will not last for long. Thankfully Drizzt wouldn't have to worry about that anymore.

Drizzt sighed, before he quit stalling and focused on the task at hand.

Grabbing his belt that held his faithful scimitars, Drizzt got ready to see the Weapons Master. Once he confirmed what will happen there, he would deal with Guen's current master. If he didn't, he could most assuredly expect pursuit. Drizzt's earlier thoughts of just taking her with him were naïve on his part. The statuette was a rare and valuable artifact, even a warrior like him could tell that. Any drow worth his ebony skin would be after it as soon as its disappearance was discovered.

That was a loose end he must tie. He hadn't summoned Guenhwyvar since his arrival into the city, he wondered if the panther would approve of him being her new... 'What? Not master, never master.' Drizzt thought, 'Possessor? No, that's even worse. Master made her out to be a slave, but possessor made her into an object.'

He held her statuette in his hands, the blackness of the material nearly as dark as his own skin. 'Guardian... no. She is plenty capable of protecting herself.'

But what then, would be an appropriate title for their situation? She was his companion, his friend. His lifeline even, in this dark world he was finding himself to be suffocated in. She held him above the darkness that lurked here... that's it! She was his holder. So he would be her holder, the one who carried her figurine in the direction she wanted, figuratively speaking.

The drow smiled down at the artifact, if she approved, then as the holder, he needed to get proper rights (that on its own would be tricky. No matter how much that drow might deserve it, Drizzt would not stoop to their level and kill him), but first things first.

Drizzt placed the figurine back into its pouch and proceeded out of his room.

He avoided his problem long enough it was time to face it and see what the outcome would be.


1: I, umm, forgot where I was age-wise with Drizzt at this point so I'm sticking with 30ish years, if I'm off or I mentioned he is currently at an older age in a previous chapter, please let me know.

So, tell me what you think. Good? Bad? My usual? Please let me know, and don't forget to give L.R. a little scratch when you do *Cat starts to purr at the word scratch* Be warned, he is affectionate.