Forgotten Realms 1. Flashback and an Introduction

Basic Explanation and Standard Disclaimer:  
  
This is a fanfic. Hence, unfortunately Zak and the Realms do not belong to me. As much as I adore R.A. Salvatore and horde his books, I cannot match his skill in describing battles. Despite that, I wanted to try and write out a story about Zaknafein. After all the promises and preludes were made, with the expectation that Zak would be returning, and Wulfgar came back instead I was rather ticked. In order to rectify this wrong, what follows is my attempt at resurrecting Zaknafein and having my way with him. I can't promise that it's stellar, but it contains no Mary Sues or self-insertions and I've attempted to stay as close to character as possible.  
  
The following is a short recap of what happened in Exile, in the final battle between Zaknafein and Drizzt. If you haven't read the book it and it doesn't seem to make sense and I'd highly suggest skipping it. Without the context it's difficult to explain exactly what's going on. Still, I tried. Hopefully you will get some enjoyment out of this fanfic. Enjoy!  
  
Standard inspirational song which seems to be mandatory to post with a fanfic:  
  
"I've seen the terrible hand of struggle I've felt the pain that hubris brings I have tasted the wisdom of divinity And the horrors of it sting  
  
And though they tell you I am lost And their words report my death is come The fates have left me breathing still Very much alive  
  
And though my mind is cut by battles fought so long ago I return victorious, I am coming home And though the path that I have followed Hath tread against the flow, There is no need for sorrow I am coming home"  
  
Cruxshadows – Return (Coming Home)  
  
Introduction:  
  
This is not how it was supposed to end.  
  
These words rang through Zaknafein Do'Urden's mind as he tried to block out the sound of weapons and the shouting that was going on around him. He had assumed that it had come to an end years before when his son, Drizzt had escaped Menzoberranzan and the cruel machinations of the drow city they'd both grown up in. It was then that Zaknafein, former weapons- master of House Do'Urden and Drizzt's biological father had given up his life as a sacrifice to Lloth so that his son might live and find a way to escape the hell that they'd both lived in. At that time Zaknafein had given up his life peacefully, content in the fact that with his sacrifice he was making it possible for Drizzt to survive and to become something more than just another pawn in Lloth's dark and twisted game.  
If Zaknafein had known what the future had held, he would have gone fighting in an attempt to take Malice to her grave with him despite her threats. Anything to prevent the horror that he was watching happen now.  
  
Malice had decided that her rebellious son had to be punished for his actions and so had demanded one of the highest and most draining gifts of Lloth. The ritual had restored Zaknafein's body and returned his skills, memories and spirit to his body. However, his body and his skills remained under Malice's control while his spirit could only watch with helpless frustration as the newly created spirit-wraith was sent out to find and kill Drizzt Do'Urden.  
  
When the spirit-wraith had been created, Zakanafein had not entirely understood what was going on, only that his soul had been wrested from its resting place and that for some unknown reason he was now a spectator to his own actions. It was only when Malice had given him his horrible mission and referred to him as what he now was that he truly understood what had happened to him. Since that time he had tried to fight against Malice's control many, many times in order to regain control of his body and to end this cruel course, but each time his attempts had proven fruitless.  
  
Malice Do'Urden, the matron mother of his house and his former consort controlled his body now, as she had since she'd restored his body and made him a spirit-wraith. For months now, his soul had been pushed to the side and made to watch as the hunt continued and he killed time and time again due to Malice's frustration and lust for violence. Everything had been given for this moment. Despite the fact that he knew what was happening and that he was helpless to prevent it, he found himself battling violently against Malice's will in a desperate attempt to regain his body.  
  
Sword clashed against Scimitar as the two dark forms fought, and Zaknafein watched in horror as his body moved against his will to hack at his son. Behind him lay a Hook Horror and a gnome, Drizzt's companions no doubt. The Hook Horror was dead, and Zak had no doubt that after he killed his son, Malice would ensure that he killed the gnome as well.  
  
Unable to do anything but watch, Zaknafein wept in despair and cursed Lloth's existence even as Drizzt cursed at him. He was a damned thing, a pawn in life and now in undeath as well. Unable to do anything but to battle against Malice's will he fought her as violently as his son fought him, trying to find some chink in the Lloth-granted powers she'd been given.  
  
The battle continued as Drizzt flung himself at Zaknafein in a rage, scimitars up high. Zaknafein countered the foolish attack with an ease that he loathed, and working the other drow's weapons up high, then driving into a double-thrust low, a move that they'd often practiced together as Zak proudly trained his son to follow in his footsteps. Drizzt concentrated on the move, his lavender eyes burning with an inner fire as he parried in a cross-down position that pinned both of Zaknafein's swords. He followed up the move by putting his booted foot between the scimitar hilts and kicking at Zaknafein's face. The spirit-wraith moved it's head out of the way long before the blade reached it, a secret counter that only Zaknafein could possibly have known.  
  
Drizzt's eyes went wide with astonishment. "You are Zaknafein!" he cried, "What has Malice done to you?"  
  
For a brief moment Zak overpowered Malice's will, and he struggled to explain what was happening, and that Drizzt must kill him else he would never be free of Malice's grasp. The moment was too brief though, and he found himself thrown back from control, a helpless spectator once more.  
  
Zaknafein watched as Drizzt's eyes suddenly filled with hope and the realization that he was still somewhere within the spirit-wraith's body. The drow shouted to his ally what was going on, then launched into a training routine that he'd practiced with Zaknafein many times before. Zaknafein's heart ached at his son's courage and flawless performance, even as he wanted to yell at him for his foolishness. As a gap opened, the spirit-wraith hacked at Drizzt's side and Zaknafein grimaced.  
  
The only deity he'd known in his life had been the false goddess Lloth, who had twisted and perverted the people of his city, turning them into malicious things whose only desire was for more power. Despite that, Zaknafein sent out a silent plea to whatever god might be listening for some form of deliverance from this nightmare.  
Dimly, he heard Drizzt pleading for him to understand what was going on, but Malice was firmly in control and he could give the young drow no words of comfort.  
  
The battle continued, and now Drizzt looked worried. He would tire eventually, Zaknafein knew, and that was when he would get careless and the killing blow would fall. As an undead animation, his body felt no fatigue, and the slashes across his neck and belly that Drizzt had scored neither neither pained him nor hindered him in any way. Aside from destroying his body, there was no way that Drizzt could end this fight. He would die.  
  
Even as he thought this, Drizzt slipped on a loose stone and went down to one knee. The spirit-wraith drove his swords forward pitilessly, and soon had the drow on his back, only inches away from the lake of acid that filled the area below this particular cave. He heard the gnome scream out Drizzt's name, even as his swords readied themselves for the final blow.  
Suddenly, he felt a surge of power not entirely his own come over him, strong enough for him to pull back and to hold in the killing blow. Drizzt seized the opportunity and punched out with a scimitar hilt, driving the spirit-wraith backward and he regained his footing.  
  
"Zaknafein!" Drizzt called.  
  
"Driz-" Zaknafein struggled to reply, but Malice gained control again and the spirit-wraith attacked, swords leading the way.  
  
No! Zaknafein screamed in desperation, though no one heard the words. Please ... I'll do anything, just let this nightmare end.  
  
In front of him, Drizzt slipped his scimitars back into his sheaths.  
  
Zaknafein struggled to take control again as the spirit-wraith cut into the air with his swords in anticipation of the coming battle.  
  
You know what needs to be done, a female voice assured him. He felt the same rush of power come to him again, this time accompanied with an image of what was going to happen if he didn't act.  
  
I do, and I will. Thank you, whoever you are.  
  
His body once more his own, Zaknafein brought the swords down to rest at his side.  
  
"Drizzt." He re-sheathed his swords against Malice's will and Drizzt's eyes brightened with relief and joy as he started towards him. As much as he wanted to embrace Drizzt and express everything that he was feeling at the moment, Zaknafein put up a hand to stop him.  
  
"No." He explained. "I do not know how long I can resist. The body is hers, I fear –"  
  
"Then you are-?" Drizzt began, and then stopped in confusion.  
  
"I am dead." Zaknafein said bluntly. "At peace, be assured. Malice has repaired my body for her own vile purposes." The part about being at peace was a lie, of course, but it was something that Drizzt needed to hear, and something that he had the feeling would be coming soon.  
  
"But you defeated her," Drizzt argued. "We are together again."  
  
"A temporary stay, no more." Zaknafein said. As he spoke, Malice wrested some of his power from him and one of his hands shot to the hilt of his sword. He snarled and fought against her will, and gradually managed to bring his hand away from the weapon again.  
  
"She is coming back, my son. That one is always coming back!" Much as he wished it to be otherwise, he knew that there was no way that he could possibly win in a battle against Malice. This body was Lloth constructed, and the spider queen would have it back, regardless of how he might wish otherwise. Even if he'd doubted it when the goddess who'd taken pity on him had first informed him of the fact, the degree to which he was struggling, even now reaffirmed that in a way he could not deny.  
  
"I cannot bear to lose you again," Drizzt said. "When I saw you in the illithid cavern-"  
  
"It was not me that you saw," Zaknafein explained, as he attempted to explain to Drizzt what he now was. "It was the zombie of Malice's evil will. I am gone, my son. I have been gone for many years."  
  
"You are here." Drizzt argued, a stubborn light showing in his eyes.  
  
"By Malice's will, not ... my own." At the mention of her name, Malice fought once more to gain control and Zaknafein growled as he fought her off. It took longer this time to fight her off, and he knew that his time was fleeting.  
  
He took a long look at his son, noting the physical changes and remembering the changes in his fighting style. Drizzt had come a long way from who he was when they'd last met, and he was easily now Zaknafein's equal or better.  
  
"You fight well," He said at last. "Better than I had ever imagined. That is good, and it is good that you had the courage to run –" Malice fought for control again, and Zaknafein fell silent as he fought to regain control again. This time, he felt the separation between his body and his spirit, and watched as his hands went to the swords once more. This time, both came flashing out, ready and in a guard position.  
  
"No!" Drizzt pleaded as tears began to form in his lavender eyes. "Fight her."  
  
"I ... cannot." Zaknafein replied. "Flee from this place, Drizzt. Flee to the very ... ends of the world! Malice will never forgive. She ... will never stop-"  
  
Zaknafein lost control again and the spirit-wraith leapt forward. This time Drizzt had no choice but to draw his weapons. Refusing to allow the combat to continue, knowing that he wouldn't win another time, Zaknafein jerked to the side before he reached Drizzt.  
  
"For us!" Zak cried in victory as he fell towards the lake of acid. Malice's hold on him was destroyed as he hit the acid and his body dissolved. Rationally, Zaknafein knew that he should be panicked. As the last of his body was destroyed though, he felt an incredible sense of release and relief. Regardless of what happened next, he was completely free from Malice's grasp.  
  
As oblivion loomed ahead, Zaknafein embraced it and all that came with it. For the first time in his existence, he was completely free. It was a beautiful feeling. 


	2. His Father's Eyes

Part I  
His Fathers Eyes  
  
Over my time both in the Underdark and on the surface world, I have made friends. Though few in number compared to the number that some on humans might count, I consider each one of them to be extremely precious. Each one has judged me based on who I am and my actions rather than what I am.  
  
Cattie Brie, Wulfgar, Bruenor, Regis, Montolio, all of these are names of those who have helped me out and guided me during my life. To this list there is another name equally as precious, though remembering it is bittersweet: Zaknafein.  
Zaknafein was my teacher and my mentor, the one who I spent so many happy days with when I was yet a child and did not understand the ways of my people. The two of us were kindred spirits and in a world where friendships were broken easily for personal gain ours was the rare exception.  
  
Zaknafein gave his life for me not just once, but twice. Often I have thought back to those times. The first time he gave up his life as a sacrifice to Lloth, the Spider Queen in my place. The second time as Malice's undead creation sent to destroy me. Despite the difficulties, he gained control over his body for long enough to ensure his own destruction rather than mine. Both times he acted completely selflessly, for my sake.  
  
What drove him to do such a thing for me? If our roles were switched I know I would have done the same for him that he might have had a chance at a better life. All the same I have to wonder; what exactly were his thoughts? What did he expect me to do and where did he expect me to go after he was gone? I know he would have been proud of who I am now and how far I have come from the child he once taught. Still, I would give much to hear such words from his own mouth, to have his reassurances directly from him rather than from my imagination.  
  
I cannot remember the color of my father's eyes. Perhaps I never knew, or never paid enough attention to make a mental note of it. The only color I know and can remember is the faint red which our eyes show in when we use infravision. What color his eyes might have appeared as on the surface world is now forever lost to me. The color of his eyes, it seems like such a small thing, until I think about how many other, seemingly trivial things I never knew or have forgotten about Zaknafein which made him the drow that he was. It occurs to me then that perhaps I did not understand him so very well at all.  
  
There are hundreds of questions that I now long to ask him, this drow who was my father and shaped the course of my destiny. Alas, these are questions which I will never be able to ask him. As much as I may lament it, Zaknafein shall ever remain a mystery to me. Perhaps one day, after I have passed from this world I will meet him again and I will be able to look into his eyes and know.  
  
Until such a time, I can only hope that, wherever he is, Zaknafein is resting in peace.  
  
- Drizzt Do'Urden 


	3. A New Beginning

She walked lightly through the door that lead to the realm of the dead and continued on her way. Beings who resided in this realm moved aside as she passed, some with awe, some with gestures of reverence. To these she smiled, or dipped her head with respect. These were her followers, come here for their well-earned rest, and she was their goddess. Many times Mielikki had come here to look in on her followers, but tonight she had purposes in another realm. Gathering up her bow and arrows from her home, she moved her fingers in a complicated gesture that opened the gate to this other realm. The deal had been made already and she had now only to receive her payment.  
  
Mielikki walked through the land, as silent and unnoticed as a shadow until she found the one she desired to talk with. All was set in place now, she only hoped that it went as planned.  
  
He sat on a rock in front of a vast lake. The land was black but peaceful and the quietness seemed like a balm for his troubled soul. Zaknafein had spent many years like this. As a spirit he'd gained the right to on occasion spy upon his mortal world, but it had been a long time since he'd done that. His house was gone and there was only one other on the realm that he still cared about, and that one was out of his reach. He'd learned long ago that to watch was both a blessing and a curse. He was relieved to know that his son, Drizzt was still alive and doing well but knowing that he was incapable of communicating with his son brought extreme agitation and frustration.  
  
To be able to affect the world of the living again ... for that he would give almost anything.  
  
"Almost anything?"  
  
Zak spun around, his hands going to the places where his swords would have rested, then let them drop in awe. Before him stood a being of incredible beauty. She was lithe and graceful, with russet hair and brown eyes. She appeared to be human, but the feeling about her revealed what she truly was. Zaknafein bowed his head and dropped to his knees, then raised his gaze to meet that of the goddess.  
  
"Does watching your son grow bring you that much sorrow?" She asked gently, an expression of kindness that seemed genuine.  
  
"Only because I cannot be there for him. My apologies goddess, I do not know your name."  
  
She laughed, a silvery sound full of merriment and benevolence. "I am Mielikki."  
  
Zaknafein's jaw dropped. The goddess his son followed had come to visit /him/? One part of him was struck dumb by awe. The other part was frantically searching for a reason why the goddess could possibly wish to visit someone as unworthy of her presence as him.  
  
"You are more worthy of seeing my face than many who claim to follow my ways." Mielikki said reassuringly.  
  
"I am honored by your presence." Zaknafein at last managed to say. To his surprise his response brought another silvery laugh as Mielikki put a hand to her mouth as she shook with silent mirth.  
  
"Goddess?" He questioned hesitantly.  
  
/There is no need to be so reserved, Zaknafein Do'Urden. The two of us have met before./ She informed him. Zaknafein's eyes widened with sudden recognition and he dropped his head in reverence.  
  
"Yes, I was the one who aided you in your fight against Malice in your final battle. I aided you then, without ever expecting to ask for a repayment, and yet now I find myself in need of your aid.  
  
/Impossible!/ Zaknafein thought. He was only a fighter, the weapons master of his house, and a drow at that.  
  
"Your son fares will in the mortal's world. However, before him is a great conflict which he is not capable of fighting alone."  
  
Zaknafein felt a violent tug of emotions, concern, fear and protectiveness towards his son as Mielikki told him of the trials he would soon face.  
  
"I need someone to go to him and to guide him along on his quest, and I know that he desires to see you again."  
  
To see his son again! To once again be able to talk to Drizzt and to join on his ventures! His heart leapt for joy, and then he shook his head.  
  
"I have no right to go. I gave my life so that he might live. Also, I was not a follower of your ways during life and I have committed far too many wrongs to deserve this." In despair, Zaknafein felt tears come to his eyes and let them flow.  
  
"Dry your eyes." The Goddess said, cupping his chin with her hand and lifting his head so that his gaze met hers. "You shall go. Your son needs you and you have given your life twice for him. You have earned the right to travel back into his world. However, I cannot send you directly to him. You know nothing of the ways of the surface world and you would be more of a hindrance than a help to him at this point. Also ..." Mielikki's voice faltered as she thought of what she would be asking this drow to do.  
  
"I will pay whatever price is needed." Zaknafein said solemnly.  
  
"You will not remember who you were at first, nor will you remember this conversation until your quest is done. You will have your old body and your fighting skills. However, you will be weaponless. But worry not. You shall travel with my blessing and allies will soon make themselves known to you."  
  
"I will do as you bid happily, and I thank you for the right of performing this task." Zaknafein said, happiness flowing through his whole being.  
  
Mielikki motioned for him to rise again then put her hand on his left shoulder. Immediately it was bathed in light, and a sigil glowed there for a moment then faded.  
  
"Rest now, and when you wake you will be in the land of the living." Mielikki promised and Zaknafein's eyes closed as he fell into sleep. He felt his body, solid again against the soft dirt and took his first lungful of surface air, then unconsciousness took him.  
  
Mielikki took one final look at the drow sleeping within the forest clearing then cast a spell that brought her back to her home realm. Despite her proclamations, she felt a deem amount of concern for the drow who had found his way to her path and for his father who, given time, might well join her followers. The goddess made a silent vow to protect her children as she re-entered her realm and began her work, during which the calls of her followers came directly to her mind. She granted strength to those who needed it; a word of courage to her frightened ones and her blessing to those who gave their lives for her. She was incapable of doing everything at once, but that did not mean she would not try.  
  
Moonlight filtered down into the glade and the drow stirred as it hit his closed eyelids, then opened them. His eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before him. Above him was a blue-black dome so high he couldn't imagine how it was hung. In the dome were tiny pinpricks of light and a silver crescent much larger than any of the other shapes.  
  
/Stars,/ something in his head seemed to say. /And the crescent is the moon./  
  
"That is well and good." He mumbled, "but where am I?" A second later he knew he was in the surface world, a place that he'd seen rarely and visited even more rarely, which meant that he lived somewhere else ... or he had lived somewhere else. A wave of confusion swept over him followed by one of panic. Who was he? How had he come to this place and how would he survive? He resisted the urge to cry out in despair, but just barely. He looked up to the sky again, and to the moon with it's silver light and felt very small and alone. A light breeze brushed by him and a noise that sounded something like a rattle started. He looked about frantically, then identified the noise as coming from the structures around him that reached up towards the sky and were covered at the top by what looked like green wings. Each one seemed to be struggling violently against the others in a violent attempt to fly and the drow drew back from them in fear.  
  
/ Leaves. They grow on trees and the wind is making them move. Don't be afraid, the plant can't hurt you. /  
  
"Tree." He repeated thoughtfully, rising to his feet in a graceful movement. He put his hand on the bottom of the tree, marveling at its roughness and the strength that he somehow knew it had.  
  
"Do you know who I am?" He asked the voice as he stared at the tree bottom.  
  
/ Trunk. / The voice replied. He knew immediately that the voice was referring to the tree bottom and not to him. He sighed, then looked up towards the moon again.  
  
"Trunk." He repeated, resting his hand against the tree for a moment longer.  
  
He left the tree and it's bark behind him and walked into the thing the voice called a forest as he put aside his worries for the moment and concentrated on learning the words that he was being presented with. For now he had a guide, and he was determined to learn all it had to teach him before it was gone.  
  
He watched the sun rise with silent awe until it's light was too bright and then turned away from it and walked far enough into the cave so that the sunlight didn't irritate his eyes anymore. His guide had led him to this place, as well as to the stream he'd quenched his thirst in and to the berries that had ended the beginnings of his hunger before it had the chance to truly begin. Secure in his new resting spot, the drow who did not know his name closed his eyes and curled up on the vegetation he'd brought in as cushioning. Sleep overtook him as the sun rose in the sky.  
  
As the sun rose in the sky, Iria Stormblossom awoke from her reverie. She watched the sun rise as she attempted to sort through the visions. She usually only half-remembered them but last night they came with a clarity that was startling. It had begun in a moonlit field where she'd found herself after wandering through the forest. The fields darkened as a cloud passed over the moon, then seemed to shine as brightly as day. In front of Iria appeared a unicorn and she gasped in awe. During her century and a half of life she'd heard stories about the wondrous creatures more than once but had never dreamed that she would actually see one, for the unicorn was a symbol of the highest favor of her goddess, Mielikki. She took a tentative step towards it, and then another, her hands loose at her side and weaponless. To her astonishment the unicorn did not run away. Rather, it remained where it was. Iria approached it and put one trembling hand to the unicorn's mane.  
  
/ Iria Stormbossom. / A feminine voice said.  
  
It was only because of her finely trained senses that Iria did not start, though the realization that she was conversing with a unicorn nearly made her faint.  
  
"I am her." Iria replied after a long moment.  
  
/ As a servant of Mielikki you have done your job well, and it is because of this that I am to ask a favor of you. /  
  
"As her servant I will do whatever the Lady asks of me."  
  
The unicorn made a sound of approval. / Mielikki asks you to guard and guide one who has recently returned to this world until he is ready to venture off on his own. You do not know him yet but you will meet him soon. /  
  
"This I shall do gladly."  
  
/ The Lady thanks you for your acceptance of this task. / The unicorn replied and then seemed to vanish.  
  
"Wait!" Iria called out in alarm. "How will I recognize this person? How will I know who it is I am supposed to help?"  
  
The fields flashed black again yet Iria found herself able to see. From behind her, she heard the sound of someone approaching and whirled around.  
  
In front of her was a drow elf with long white hair and dark blue eyes. Iria reached for her weapons immediately and the drow moved back, his hands out before him indicating that he carried no weapons. Indeed, Iria saw no place for a weapon to be carried on him. He was dressed in a dark blue tunic and a set of pants, part of which had been torn off to form a makeshift bandage about his arm. Both pieces of clothing looked bedraggled and Iria wondered how long this drow had been in the wilderness. She took her hands away from her weapons then crossed them over her chest.  
  
The drow smiled in what looked like relief and bowed his head to her.  
  
"Who are you?" She said aloud.  
  
The drow shook his head and then met her gaze one last time, this time his gaze looked sorrowful and lonely. Then he vanished and Iria was left in the middle of the field, alone.  
  
That was when she had awoken from her reverie, thoroughly confused about the manner of her dream. Drow are evil by nature, every last one of them. She might have thought otherwise at one time or another but she had seen one too many raids in which the drow had caused massive amounts of havoc, with more glee than she'd believed was possible. She'd fought against them too many times and heard them curse her existence with their dying breaths. The dream had to be a lie, she knew that.  
  
But the silvery-white hair she'd found in her hand when she awoke would not allow her to dismiss the dream as easily as that. 


	4. Pathways

Author's Notes: Huzzah, an update! Chances are future ones will not be this rapid, but it feels good to get this written out after some revisions. As a side note, I know it's possible to write in italics and have them show up here. If someone would be so kind as to mention what the code is for this I would be eternally grateful.  
  
His Father's Eyes was a late addition which I realized needed to be made to make this story truly follow Salvatore's style. I looked through all of the books in search of Zaknafein's true eye color but found no reference, my best guess as to why it was being left out that Salvatore overlooked it or didn't find it important. Still, I wanted to write that part in, so in it went. Enjoy this latest installment, and please feel free to call me on any technicalities I get wrong.  
  
late correction: Thankyou Liriel for catching me on misspelling Corellon Larethian's name. The chapter has been resubmitted with the proper spelling inserted.  
  
He awoke that evening to the sun still in the sky and watched the light filter into the cave. The sun felt painful but good at the same time, as if it was bringing warmth to some part of his soul. He shook his head at the idea of this but found he couldn't deny it's truth. Something about this place seemed to call out to him. He knew not where he'd come from but he did know that this place was infinitely better.  
  
When the sun's light finally died down enough for him to be comfortable he ventured out, waking about the forest he now called home. The moon was a touch fuller this night, as he'd been told to expect, and he wondered what it would look like when it was full.  
  
He sat down by the river's bank and regarded his own reflection. The voice had told him of many things but it apparently did not know or chose not to reveal his name or how he had come here. He accepted his lot stoically, hoping that if he searched long enough he would find someone who knew his name. Whoever he'd been, there must have been others that knew him. Allies, or family perhaps? His dreams that night had been full of people without faces, and a voice that brought a painful tug to his heart.  
  
The voice that had guided him last night was gone and he knew that he would not hear from it again. He'd been given the information he needed to survive, the rest would be up to him. He knew this, he also knew that he could not remain in this place forever. Something, he knew not what was calling him, telling him to leave this place and that there was someone he needed to find.  
  
With these thoughts in his head, he left the forest grove and ventured out into the world at large. He traveled all night, walking towards the place he knew the sun would come. With the coming of dawn he found a new place to rest, this time in a hollow tree where he watched the sunrise a second time then went to sleep.  
  
Iria studied the path in front of her, wondering which direction she should take today. Her dream the night had interrupted her planned return to the forest grove she called home, and left her wondering which direction she would be wisest to go in.  
  
To the West lay scores of untouched wilderness, beyond which was a human settlement she'd visited perhaps twice in her life. To the South lay a road that she had traveled often, though not recently. Iria smiled as she thought of the elven village she had come from. It was the one place she knew she'd always be welcome, no matter how the world seemed to change around her.  
  
She thought of the family that she had left behind, especially of her younger brother who would now be nearing his second century of life. Erris had always had an uncanny skill at understanding her and a knack for unweaving the meaning of dreams. Though the dream had not come back last night she found her mind replaying it during her waking hours. Despite that, she still could not decide whether she believed in the dream's message or not. She resisted the urge to pull out the piece of hair she'd found in her hand again to stare at it. She'd deliberately placed it at the bottom of her pack, wrapped in a scrap of cloth which had come from a shirt that she had long ago cut up for bandages. The shirt had seemed well worn then but, glancing down Iria realized even her most well-kept clothes now looked trail worn. While she was not one to be concerned over fancy dress she full well knew that come winter she would regret having less than travel-ready clothes.  
  
Recalling this, and remembering how much she wished to see her village again the choice became much simpler. Iria turned to the south, back towards home.  
  
Three days later, Iria reached a set of oak trees that rose gracefully to meet far above her head. Though she had left the marked paths most adventurers traveled days ago, these trees announced to her that she was almost home. Indeed, it seemed she had only taken two more steps before the first of her people called out to her in greeting.  
  
Iria offered her own greeting to the scout as he walked to met he and accepted his offer as company during her walk back to the village. She asked him one or two questions about how the village was faring which he answered readily enough. After that Iria did her best to answer the steady stream of questions the youngling had about the world at large.  
  
Few from Iria's village traveled outside their beloved forests. Among her people she was the exception, and she had been called upon more than once to describe the human's cities and the strange creatures she had seen. Though her people knew every forest creature and herb of the area and met travelers on adventures, they had never seen so many things ... At times she felt sorry for them but at times she was envious of their simple lives. Especially after she had seen some of the atrocities humans were capable of. In her home village though, such thoughts were impossible to dwell upon.  
  
Iria met with the elders of the village, then went of to find her brother. His home was on the outskirts of the village, and she found him at his garden. With a smile on her face she approached him from behind, then taped him on the shoulder.  
  
Instantly, Erris turned to face his imagined opponent, the tiny shovel he had been using coming in front of him in a defensive posture.  
  
"It is good to see you again brother." Iria said cheerfully, choking back the laughter that seeing him in such a ridiculous posture brought.  
  
"And you as well sister," Erris replied, then added ruefully. "Though next time you come to visit I would appreciate a word of greeting before you decide to test my reflexes!"  
  
Iria moved her hands into a graceful gesture of apology, then pulled a small medallion from one of the pouches she wore about her waist and presented it to Erris.  
  
Erris' eyes nearly glowed as he studied this latest gift from his elder sister, a golden pendant with the symbol for Corellon Larethian, the god he had chosen to follow. Iria had given him his first symbol to the god when he had decided his path and she had made a point to search for others that he might enjoy when she went adventuring.  
  
Erris had always been devoted to the religious and at times it seemed as if he heard the voices of the gods. Indeed more than once Erris had predicated what was going to happen or circumvented a tragedy by advising others to act a certain way. With the thoughts of her brother's dreams, Iria again remembered her own, and an expression of worry crossed her face.  
  
"Is something troubling you?" He asked, his gold-flecked blue eyes lit with concern.  
  
"Not much, just ... I had a dream a few nights back which keeps on coming back to my thoughts. I think it was a message from Mielikki but I am not certain whether to believe it or not ..." Iria frowned. Despite her best attempts to uncover what her dream might mean, she was still not sure whether she believed that she had been sent a message or whether it was merely a dream.  
  
"Tell me about it?" Erris asked. Desperate for an interpretation to the dream that had been haunting her, Iria told him everything.  
  
As the sun set, the drow set out from his hollow tree once more and began his travels. Each day he had been finding shelter later in the day and setting out earlier, something he was truly proud of. He hoped that by keeping this pattern to force his eyes to adjust to the harsh light, enabling him to move about during the day. The colors he saw here dazzled him, and the creatures that he saw here seemed nothing if not amazing ...  
  
The drow's thoughts broke off as he heard the sound of a branch snapping not so far away and the sound of voices. He stopped moving, almost stopped breathing as the voices seemed to get closer to him, then he moved back behind a tangle of brush and waited.  
  
The group was in view soon enough, a party of four humans accompanied by a dwarf and a surface elf. It took all of his willpower not to do something to give himself away in the presence of these travelers. Each was armed, and armed well. He knew that with no armor or weapons he would be easy prey for them. Still, as long as they did not seem to see him, he should be safe.  
  
The dwarf seemed more intent on the trail ahead than in looking for hidden adversaries and the humans seemed more intent on the path, and in their own conversation, which was in a tongue that he could not understand. However, the elf seemed alert to his surroundings. As though he'd spoken his thought aloud, the surface elf looked in his direction. Their eyes met, and all became chaos.  
  
The elf shouted something to his companions then fired an arrow which hit the drow in the shoulder. Startled, he stood up and began backing away, even as the humans and the dwarf came charging through the underbrush. Another arrow came by him, this one barely missing.  
  
He ran, taking the charging party in a zigzag route through the forest in an attempt to shake them off then climbing a tree and moving from branch to branch to further throw them off. He heard more sharp words in a foreign tongue, but did not bother to slow. His shoulder ached but he knew better than to stop to dress it until he was safely out of sight. He had no doubts that, given another chance to hit him, the surface elf would not miss.  
  
He stopped, finally, by a clear running stream and climbed down from the tree slowly. He gritting his teeth as he pulled the arrow out, then tore off a section of his pants and wrapped it about his arm to staunch the flow of blood.  
  
For a long time after that he sat, staring down into his blurred reflection in the dying light and wondering if all encounters with those of the surface world were destined to end this way. 


	5. Connection

Iria and Erris sat out under the stars, sharing stories and informing each other of what had happened in their lives since she had last come to visit the village. As always, little had changed. Though her village was less isolated than most Wood elves' villages tended to be, it was still far enough from civilization and well-hidden enough that very few humans ever found their way to the village without explicit invitation. In the ten years that had passed since she had last been to the village only a handful of adventurers had found their way to the village and all of their meetings had been peaceful, as always.  
  
It was this peacefulness that often gave the village an appearance of timelessness. The village was a haven, Iria knew. In a world that was often turbulent and fraught with troubles, she knew that she could always return to it and expect to find the same thing, year after year. Of course, it was also this sameness that routinely drove her away from the village in order to sate her wanderlust.  
  
Erris had advised her to either forget her dream or to take it to mean that indeed, her goddess would soon have a mission for her, though he doubted very much that it would have anything to do with a drow.  
  
"The drow are evil creatures by nature. That is what we have been taught in our histories and what the drow have proven time and time again when they raid our people's villages. You yourself have fought against them more than once, have you ever seen a sign of compassion, of loyalty of anything other than hatred and anger from them? Their race is incapable of such things."  
  
Iria had to agree, as little as she wanted to. Still, the face of the drow from her dreams remained with her. He'd looked so alone ...  
  
The sun rose and the drow found a place to rest for the day, this time in the well-shaded branches of a tree. Despite his worries about being followed, he could think of no other way to spend his hours while the sun was high. The light still stung his eyes and if he remained in it for too long it started affecting his balance and he felt sick as well, as if the sunlight was changing his body in some strange way he had yet to decipher. Yet, despite this something about the feel of light on his skin was comforting.  
  
He slept through the day again and continued on his travels, still not sure of where exactly he was going to. Before he'd met the elf and his companions he had been going in a fairly straight path, but in getting escaping them he had lost track of where he was. For the past two days he had been following the sun but now he was not certain that was the safest path.  
  
Perhaps it was because of some unknown god's favor, but this time he managed to spot the elf and not be found in return. At first he feared that this was the same elf that he had come across the day before, but this one had a copper tint to his skin as opposed to the pale white that he remembered and his hair was black rather than red. Before the drow had a chance to heave a sigh of relief the elf disappeared, taking a route through the trees. The drow remained motionless for a few long minutes, then nearly jumped when the slight crackle of brush announced that another was nearing. Another elf passed without a second glance at the drow, apparently taking the same path as the one before her. After a moment of hesitation, the drow decided to follow the two and see where they were going.  
  
The second elf caught up with the first soon enough and the two began talking in what the drow could only assume was their native tongue. What they were saying he couldn't be sure but by their postures and tones they seemed to be quite at home.  
  
The two hadn't been talking long before another set of two elves appeared and exchanged greetings. The first set of two then started off in the direction opposite to where he was watching, and the second two parted ways, one going to the right and one going to the left.  
  
He waited until he was sure the elves were gone, then turned back moving as rapidly as he dared. It was only after he was certain that he was well out of the range of the elves sight and arrows that he stopped to consider his course. The elves had to be patrolling the area in an attempt to ward against outsiders attacking their home. Unlike drow, elves tended to be much more organized about their community and guarded it as a whole regularly, rather than merely when it proved to be more convenient to do so. Somehow he also knew that the surface elves were very cautious about guardian the area they called home and that they often set patrols around their homes in order to keep intruders out.  
  
/Of course, if one wishes to attack the settlement it is easiest to move as a group, creating a distraction to draw the sentries attention away long enough to allow for their disposal by one's own scouts. Of course, to avoid the sentries altogether, it was best if one attacked during one of their holy days. It was then that they would be most unaware, and most defenseless –/  
  
He froze, as startled as he would have been had the sentries fired an arrow into his heart at that moment. Where had that knowledge come from? How would he know such things? Did he ...?  
  
The drow moaned and sank to his knees in the forest.  
  
"What have these hands done?" He said aloud, "Why is it that I cannot remember my name or where I am from but I can remember how to destroy an elven village?"  
  
Dogged by confusion and guilt, he walked on until dawn, though he stayed awake, watching the sun for a long time after that, tormented by questions of what he had done and afraid of what his dreams would reveal to him.  
  
Iria came out of reverie the next morning to the sound of footsteps moving about. She opened her eyes to see her brother pacing back and forth anxiously. She opened her mouth to say something and he turned to meet her gaze. Without any attempt to communicate Iria knew that something terribly important had happened. Erris nodded, then cleared his throat.  
  
"An adventurer came to our village late last night with news of a possible enemy. Both he and the village elder wish to speak with you."  
  
Iria left her brother's home and hurried to the village center. There she saw both the village elder and an elf with plaited red hair and amber eyes in full armor. His skin was extremely pale, as was befitting of a Moon elf and he carried a sword at his hip and a quiver and bow were strung across his back. He was talking intently with the village elder, and Iria waited until she caught the village elder's eye before moving forward.  
  
"Iria Stormblossom." The elder said, his face showing relief. The other elf turned to look at her as well, though his expression showed more surprise than relief. Realizing that she was clad in little more than a tunic and leggings, Iria understood why immediately.  
  
"I came as soon as I heard that there was trouble. What happened?" She asked, politely ignoring the Moon elf's expression.  
  
"I was traveling not four days from your village when my party came across a drow."  
  
"Drow?" Iria repeated, feeling faint.  
  
"I fired an arrow at him and I believe I hit, but the creature took off at a speed that my group could not match. We attempted to track him but he must have taken to the trees, because we could find no sign of his footprints. Your elder has told me that you have much experience with drow and would be of help on this matter."  
  
"Are you certain that there was only one? I have never heard of a drow traveling alone upon the surface before."  
  
"I am as certain as I can be, Lady Stormblossom." The moon elf assured her. "We found no traces of other footprints and I cannot believe that if there was more than one of them that they would have allowed my group to pursue. Especially with one of our kind leading."  
  
Iria nodded, knowing truth when she heard it. The drow hated surface elves and would gleefully kill them whenever it was possible. To miss the chance to kill this one meant that either there was only one drow, or that there were too many of them and that their goal was too massive to be disrupted by the appearance of a single elf. For a moment, the memory of her dream came to her, then Iria banished it ruthlessly. Drow were evil, the dream had to be a lie.  
  
"Which way did the drow come from? Show me and I will find him."  
  
The moon elf pointed to the southwest.  
  
"As soon as I gather my supplies and become travel-ready I will begin my search for this drow and we will have our answers, one way or another."  
  
The village elder gave his blessing and Iria half ran, half flew back to her brother's home. In as few words as she could manage, she informed him of what she'd been told and of her plans as she donned her traveling gear and packed up the few things she had brought with her.  
  
"Iria, please be careful." Erris pleaded after they'd said their goodbyes.  
  
"As always, I will be." She reassured him, though Erris did not look reassured. Impulsively, she embraced her younger brother, willing him to understand that she would do everything she could to ensure that she came back, unless her death would keep the village safe.  
  
"I will return as soon as I can." She promised as Erris reluctantly let her go.  
  
With those words, Iria set off on her quest to hunt down the drow. 


	6. Collision

Author's Notes: Posting this up a day early, due to the fact that I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get online tomorrow. In general updates should come out every Thursday or Friday, and be of approximately uniform length (and hopefully uniform quality).  
  
Thank you all for your kind reviews! I am reading them, and seeing them is very good incentive for continuing this at it's current pace for as long as I can. By the way, in regards to my own identity, I'm just another amateur writer who happens to love Salvatore's work and have a little too much time on their hands which they've decided to use to write a fanfiction.  
  
As you've no doubt noticed, this story is meandering along at it's own pace. Drizzt will be introduced eventually, but that is still a long, long ways off in the story. There is still a lot to be said and a lot that needs to happen before it's even a possibility, as Zakanfein currently doesn't even remember his own name, let alone that he has a son. It will happen. Probably not exactly as you're expecting but it will happen eventually. Just give me time.  
  
Also, the length of various updates may vary from time to time. Last week's was a little shorter as I was attempting to break of at an acceptable place. This week's is a little longer to make up for that and it also ends at a place where I am comfortable leaving you all.  
  
Please, if you're still reading, don't be afraid to give feedback! Good or bad, I love knowing what people think of my writing, and if I've made any grave errors that need to be remedied.   
  
Night came and the drow miserably pondered where he should travel next. Though sunlight had prevented him from traveling, he had not slept. Fear over what he might remember while unconscious had banished any such thoughts from his mind.  
  
Unfortunately, consciousness was not enough to keep his fears away. When he shut his eyes he remembered the sound of battles that he couldn't remember. He heard the babble of voices, and worst of all he heard the sound of children screaming. These voices stayed teasingly at the edge of his memory, refusing to be recalled properly as they hinted at darker things which he had done.  
  
He had wanted to scream out his denial that he could possibly have done the things that he feared, and yet he could not do so. He had no way to confirm or deny for certain that he was what he feared, though from what snatches of memory he could call his own it seemed quite possible that the worst was true.  
  
That thought had driven him out of the tree he had been resting in and to the ground. Blinded by the sunlight, he stumbled through the forest as best he could. He picked up many cuts and scrapes from falls through the underbrush, but he did not care. The drow welcomed the pain as a punishment for what he feared he had done.  
  
Sunset had brought a respite from the brilliance of the sun and it had brought some calmness to the drow as well. He stopped at a stream to wash off the worst of the dirt and blood from his clothes and re-oriented himself.  
  
After some consideration, he decided to continue walking parallel to the village, not because it was the best way to go but because he needed to get moving so that he would stop thinking. Overhead the moon was now full though clouds kept passing over it, making the terrain seem as light as day one moment and completely dark the next.  
  
His attention, however, was not on his surroundings but rather on what was going on inside his head. /What have I done and why can I not remember it?/ The thought came to him that perhaps the faerie elf's hatred was not misplaced. Could it be that he was being hunted because of some horrible misdeed he had done? The longer he thought on it, the more likely it seemed.  
  
But what was he to do? How could he remedy his wrongs? As he pondered these questions the sky went dark again for a moment. He paused and looked up in astonishment. In front of him was a faerie elf with long brown hair and copper skin. She was studying the terrain as if she was searching for something, though she must not have seen him. Another hunter, he decided. He had run from the last one out of ignorance and cowardice, but he knew what he was now. He took a step towards her, deliberately alerting her to his presence.  
  
The elf turned about and her hands went to her weapons. On instinct, he took a step back, then paused and put his hands at his side, palms out to show that he carried no weapon.  
  
For a moment the elf merely looked surprised, then an expression came to her face of what looked like recognition. Her hands came away from her bow and arrows and she crossed her hands over her chest.  
  
Astounded by his turn in luck, he bowed his head to her. Perhaps she knew who he was and could help him.  
  
The elf said something to him in a tongue which he did not understand and he came to comprehend the folly in his way of thinking. He shook his head then raised it, biting his lip to keep from showing the disappointment he felt.  
  
The faerie elf stood still for a moment, as if she was pondering what to do, then she smiled and began walking towards him. He thought of fleeing then decided against it and took a reluctant step towards her. He only managed one before he felt something hit his chest and he crumpled to the ground. The pain hit him a few heartbeats later with enough force to nearly make him swoon. He would have gladly fallen unconscious then, if not for the faerie elf's shout of protest. He opened his eyes and found himself on his back on the ground. In front of him was the elf woman, and facing her with a bow and arrow was the elf that he'd run from before. The two elves began talking in sharp tones back and forth. He sat up, gasping with pain as he did so, and both of the elves turned to look at him for a moment, then went back to shouting at each other again.  
  
"I don't know where you came from dark elf, or how you managed to convince one of my people that you were anything other than evil but I have not been fooled. I will kill her to get at you." The drow's eyes went wide as the surface elf spoke these words in perfect drowish.  
  
The drow rose to his feet carefully and stepped out from behind the elf woman. Again, he put his hands out to show that he held no weapon.  
  
"Kill me if you must, but she has done nothing wrong. I will accept the punishment for whatever I have done."  
  
The elf woman turned to him in astonishment, though he doubted that she understood his words. He walked past her, putting himself between the two elves, and slowly moving towards the other elf. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable but he pushed it aside as best he could.  
  
The other elf nocked another arrow but he did not shoot.  
  
"What kind of drow are you that you would act to prevent a faerie elf from shooting another of their kind? Who are you? How did you come here? Why do you carry no weapons?"  
  
The drow stopped walking and let his arms drop to his sides. In a voice that shook with pain and despair he spoke three words.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Then his legs gave out and the drow fell into darkness.  
  
Iria stood for a moment in shock as the drow collapsed, then ran towards him. The dream had been true, she realized with astonishment. Despite her doubts she'd found the drow and the scene from her dream had played out the same. Everything had gone well, up until Kannath had appeared.  
  
She ran towards the drow then knelt, rummaging frantically through her pack for something that would stop the bleeding. The arrow had gone deep into the drow's arm and Iria wondered how she could possibly pull it out without causing more harm. Her hand closed about a strip of cloth and she cried out in relief then reached for the arrow.  
  
The other elf caught her arm before she could touch it.  
  
"Do not." He said in a low voice.  
  
Iria whirled towards him, enraged beyond words.  
  
"One of us needs to be holding his shoulder if the other is going to get the arrow out without causing further damage. Otherwise you will kill him."  
  
Iria paused, then studied the other elf for a moment. He looked away, uncomfortable under her fierce gaze.  
  
"I am not a priest but I have some training in the ways of medicine. I can help."  
  
"As you helped by following me, without my permission and acting on your own judgment."  
  
"I made a mistake." Kannath admitted.  
  
"A moment ago you wanted me to step aside so that you could kill him." Iria said angrily, "Why should I trust you to save his life now?"  
  
"Because ..." The moon elf swallowed hard, then continued, "Because I believe that you were right. I told the drow that I was willing to kill you to get at him and he tried to defend you. I have /never/ seen one of their kind do something like that. He may still prove treacherous, but I believe that he should be the one to prove that suspicion right or wrong. I should not have fired."  
  
Iria found herself taking a perverse pleasure in the other elf's halting speech, then brushed away that feeling and turned back to the drow. As much as she did not want to trust him, she had no other options.  
  
"We don't have time to argue. I'll hold his shoulder while you pull out the arrow."  
  
The other elf nodded his assent then took out a dagger and cut the ragged shirt away from the arrow and made a sound of surprise.  
  
Iria looked down at the drow's shoulder and did the same. In a silvery white color that showed strongly against the drow's dark skin the image of a unicorn glowed. The mark of Mielikki.  
  
The other elf apparently knew the significance of the mark as well for he uttered a low prayer to his god that this might go well as Iria said one of her own.  
  
/Mielikki, forgive me for the ignorance I have shown,/ she thought, /I promise that if this drow survives I shall do everything in my power to protect him./  
  
The drow opened his eyes and stared up at the sky for a moment, then looked around worriedly. He saw the female elf sitting a few paces away, facing away from him then turned and realized the other elf was awake and watching him. He flinched away as the surface elf moved toward him, expecting the elf to draw a weapon and finish him off. Instead, the surface elf stared at him for a few long moments, then offered him a small flask.  
  
"Drink this."  
  
The drow took the flask from the elf and sniffed at it experimentally and the elf turned away. The flask smelled sweet and the drow was thirsty, but he found himself desiring answers more than whatever was in the flask.  
  
"Why did you not kill me?" The drow asked in a voice filled with curiosity.  
  
The elf turned back towards him. Much to the drow's surprise, he saw guilt very evident on the elf's face. "Because I was mistaken about who you were. I thought you to be a killer."  
  
"I could be." The drow admitted after a moment. "I don't know where I have been or what I might have done."  
  
"You honestly cannot recall what you have done?" The elf asked incredulously.  
  
"I cannot even recall my name." The drow said. "The first thing I recall is the niht sky and the crescent moon. That was fifteen cycles of sun and moon ago, unless I have miscounted. Your group was the first that I recall meeting."  
  
"Then why did you run?"  
  
The drow chuckled. "I may have no memory of myself, but I know enough not to greet a party led by a surface elf with no weapons or armor. My people are hated here, and rightfully so."  
  
He turned away and shut his eyes against the chorus of voices, feelings and half-seen images the thought of his people brought about.  
  
"We are monsters."  
  
"And yet, you have acted very different from your people. I've fought against them many times and questioned one who we managed to capture. They believe themselves to be righteous and that ourselves, the faerie elves are evil."  
  
"As I said, monsters." The drow shuddered at the thought. "My people kill with joy. I don't know what crimes I have committed or how much blood might be on my hands but I do not doubt that I have killed."  
  
"Which is why you presented yourself to Iria." The surface elf said.  
  
The drow nodded. "I expected to die. I never thought that she would ..." He paused, considering the emotions that he'd felt when the elf had decided not to shoot.  
  
"Perhaps you are not a killer." The elf argued.  
  
"I dare not hope and I cannot believe that I should have been spared."  
  
"Have you no faith in the goddess whose mark you carry?" The elf asked incredulously. "Surely she chose to believe in you."  
  
"Mark?" The drow echoed incredulously.  
  
The elf laughed and pointed to the drow's shoulder. The drow sat up and the blanket which had been covering him fell away from his shoulder, revealing the silver white image of a unicorn.  
  
"The mark of Mielikki, the goddess of the forests and one most often followed by elves and humans. If you were who you think you were, she would not have stepped in to protect you."  
  
The drow stared at the mark, speechless for a long moment.  
  
"Drink. Then rest. We begin traveling tomorrow."  
  
Filled with a mix of wonder, hope, and profound relief, he did so. 


	7. Travels

Later update, unfortunately. I couldn't get to my computer to type this out and properly revise it before now. As an apology, this is a significantly longer update. However, there will be no update either next week or the week after, due to a trip I'm taking which will cut me off completely from the net.  
  
On the plus side, it should give me some time to write, so that I can stay ahead on this story and catch up on some other projects I'm currently at work upon.  
  
As always, reviews are welcome and thank you, all of you for reading.   
  
Iria came out of reverie as the sun rose. She stared at the sky for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, then started into full wakefulness as last night's events flashed through her mind. She turned to see the drow still asleep and the other elf preparing breakfast. She stretched, stood up, and walked over to him.  
  
Wordlessly, Kannath handed her a steaming mug and she accepted it.  
  
"Did he awake during your shift?" She asked as she took a seat on the ground next to him.  
  
He nodded, "I gave him one of your potions ... and we talked some." He shook his head in disbelief. "If it wasn't for the fact that I've fought against the drow dozens of times I'd think that the tales I'd heard were lies."  
  
"I know. But this one is nothing like his people." Iria explained as she sipped her drink.  
  
"But ... how is this possible? And how was it that you knew he was not evil? It was only after I saw that mark that I understood."  
  
His confusion showed quite clearly and Iria felt a stab of sympathy. His actions were those most elves would have made. Actually, she realized, he was quicker to believe that the drow might not be evil than she had any right to expect. Most elves would have killed the drow anyways, herself included if presented with so little evidence. She fingered the scar that ran across her cheek, a reminder of one of her encounters with drow before she spoke.  
  
She told him briefly of her own experiences with drow, then about the dream and showed him the unicorn hair as further proof.  
  
"Unbelievable." Kannath said when she had finished her tale. "When did you have the dream?"  
  
Iria closed her eyes as she counted back the days. "The first night after the new moon which would have been fourteen ... no fifteen days ago."  
  
The other elf's mouth formed a silent 'o'. "That would have been the first day he remembers."  
  
"Remembers?" Iria repeated.  
  
"Fifteen days ago he woke up with no memory of where he was, or what he had done, or even his name. It was purely luck that the ended up coming this way." Kannath explained. "He is as confused as we are as to how he ended up here and why he has Mielikki's mark on his shoulder."  
  
"How is that possible?"  
  
"I know not, though I would give a great deal to find out, both to discover how he managed to escape the corruption that seems to be drow and for his own sake. The drow is afraid of what he might have done but does not recall."  
  
Iria was silent for a long moment, and then she grinned. "Well then, the next few weeks with him should be very interesting."  
  
"Indeed." Kannath agreed. "I need to contact my party and let them know that I will not be rejoining them for quite some time."  
  
"You will be joining us then?" Iria asked.  
  
"Of course! Though I'm not sure where exactly you plan on venturing."  
  
"I need to travel back to my village and let them know that no problems will come from the drow, and our next move should be to get as far away from this village as possible." Iria's lips curved into a painful smile. "As much as I wish I could claim otherwise, my people would never understand. They would kill the drow on sight."  
  
"You will travel this morning?" He asked as Iria rose and reached for her pack.  
  
"As you should. Travel to the North this day and I will catch up to you tonight with horses from the village. They should have a pair to spare."  
  
"Leaving me to retrieve my own when I return to my group, right?" Kannath asked with an amused expression as Iria shrugged apologetically.  
  
"Considering that I followed you and nearly killed the one you were trying to protect, you have the right." Kannath said, his voice full of self-depreciating humor.  
  
Iria laughed, then took off towards her village.  
  
The drow listened as the two elves finished their conversation with closed eyes, then opened them as the surface elf tapped his shoulder. Immediately the sun hit his eyes full force and he shut them against the brightness. Squinting, he made his way to the campfire and ate breakfast while the elf packed.  
  
By the way the light fell, he guessed that it was still early in the day, though the light was strong enough to blind him if he opened his eyes entirely. As it was, even with his eyes mostly closed, the light was painful to his eyes and he felt a dull ache forming in the back of his head. It wasn't until he was about halfway through breakfast that he realized that the pain he should be feeling in his arm was not as bad as it should be. Looking down, he realized that the makeshift bandage he'd tied around his arm was gone and that the injury had completely healed. Immediately he understood the nature of the flask the elf had offered him last night and that the injury he had received last night was also most definitely on the mend.  
  
He stretched his arms experimentally, noting that there was only a slight twinge of pain when he moved. The elf called out something to him and he turned as a piece of fabric hit him squarely in the chest.  
  
"To make up for the shirt you lost due to my arrows." The elf explained. To the drow he sounded embarrassed by the whole situation and almost apologetic. The light was too harsh for him to check the elf's expression though, so he simply pulled on the shirt and murmured a thank you.  
  
He finished breakfast as the elf packed, then followed him as they began their trek away from the elven village.  
  
For the first few hours it wasn't so bad, he watched the feet of the elf and tried to keep his eyes mostly shut. Still, he found himself enjoying every chance to stop and to shut his eyes as he attempted to massage away the ache that came from squinting from such a long period of time. It was in the third hour that his eyes began to bother him too much to be ignored anymore. At the next stop he sat on a smooth rock under the trees and shut his eyes against the dizziness that wouldn't go away. The break ended far too soon and he slid off the rock and staggered to his feet, clutching a nearby trunk as he waited for the dizziness to go away.  
  
"Are you ill?" The elf asked.  
  
He started to shake his head, but that made the dizziness worse.  
  
"I have never traveled during the day before." He admitted, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. "The sunlight hurts my eyes and is making the world seem to spin."  
  
The elf cursed in drowish, drawing a startled chuckle from the drow as he watched the elf set down his pack.  
  
"I should have assumed ... in that case, we rest. We can travel once the sun goes down. Iria will just catch up with us faster."  
  
"Iria ..." The drow repeated as he took a seat on the ground, closing his eyes again. "That is her name?"  
  
"Yes, and I am Kannath."  
  
The drow nodded. "It is an honor to meet you. I only wish that I had a name of my own to offer in exchange."  
  
Kannath made a noise of agreement as he took a seat upon the rock.  
  
"May I call you Dathien? It means wanderer in our language." Kannath asked suddenly.  
  
"Dathien." The drow repeated, trying out the name himself. He smiled. "It is appropriate. Though one day I hope I might offer you my real name."  
  
Kannath didn't respond to that and the drow opened his eyes slightly to stare at the elf.  
  
"Would it be possible for you to teach me this world's common tongue?" Dathien asked after a long pause.  
  
"Of course." Kannath replied immediately. "When do you wish to start?"  
  
"As soon as I can." Dathien replied, shutting his eyes again. "As long as I do not move around the sunlight will not affect me, and the sooner I learn the better. Iria does not understand drowish, and eventually we will come across others. I would like to be able to speak for myself to them, if we can convince them not to shoot me on sight."  
  
Common, Dathien reflected later, was aptly named and he found himself picking up many similarities between it and Undercommon. He continued his language instructions with Kannath as the sun reached it's peak, then the elf went off to find food while the drow caught a few more hours of rest.  
  
As the sun set, the two started off again and the drow felt a surge of relief as his sense of balance and direction returned to him. Traveling by night, in the woods came as such a welcoming event that he wondered how he could have seen the night as threatening before. This time, the call to rest seemed to come far too soon. As Kannath paused to catch his breath, Dathien climbed to the topmost branches of a tree. The going was a little slow, as his arm had not healed completely yet, but upon reaching the top, the drow realized that it had been worth the climb. Looking out at the forest surrounding him, Dathien felt a growing sense of awe. The moonlight fell on a stretch of trees that seemed to go on forever and with this realization came an odd sense of belonging here, that things were as they were intended to be.  
  
"Truly, I must have done something right, to have found myself here." The drow reflected from his perch. "Perhaps my past is not as dark as I feared it might be. Certainly, my reactions to this world mark me as being something different from most of my people. We are supposed to hate and fear the sunlight and yet it seems to me that such is a blessing. Such a reaction cannot simply be the result of forgetting my memories ... can it?"  
  
How long he stayed there wondering about what might soon be he could not say, only that when he came down Kannath was ready and waiting. The two continued to travel at a leisurely pace as the moon rose higher in the sky and they continued towards their destination.  
  
Iria caught up to Kannath and the drow about mid-afternoon, riding one horse and leading another. Much to her surprise, camp was still set up and Kannath was nowhere to be seen. At first she did not see the drow either but he stepped out to greet her as she neared.  
  
"Good afternoon, Iria." He greeted her in heavily accented Common.  
  
Iris was taken aback for a moment and her eyes widened. "You have been able to speak common all this time?"  
  
The drow's face contorted with confusion as he considered her words. "Repeat ... please?" He finally said with an embarrassed look.  
  
Iria repeated her sentence, this time more slowly.  
  
"Kannath teach- teaches me." The drow replied after a moment of contemplation. "Slow." He admitted, obviously referring to his own attempts at grasping the language.  
  
"I will try to help." Iria promised. "Do you know any other tongues, besides drowish?"  
  
"Do not understand." The drow replied. Iria repeated the question in Elvish, then Goiblin and the drow's eyes lit up with sudden comprehension.  
  
"This one I know, though I do not know how."  
  
Iria tried a few other tongues and learned that he spoke Orcish as well.,  
  
"You will learn the Common tongue soon enough." Iria reassured him, "You have the ability to learn many languages it seems."  
  
"It does ..." The drow mused, staring past her into the woods. Iria followed his gaze for a moment, then turned back to him. The drow's expression was decidedly troubled.  
  
"Is what Kannath said true? You know nothing of who you are or where you are from?"  
  
"Not even my name, though Kannath has given me one that will fit for now: Dathien."  
  
Iria nodded. "Wanderer." She murmured aloud. That was it's meaning now but in the past it had also referred to one who was on an honorable quest or searching for something very important. She smiled. "I will remember that. Where is Kannath? I expected you to be traveling now."  
  
"Kannath rests. We walked all of yesterday and all of last night. The sunlight is ... strong for my eyes and it is easier to travel at night."  
  
Iria nodded then sat sown to rest. She had been traveling most of last night as well, trying to catch up to Kannath and Dathien and worrying that she would not find them again until the next night. She rested well, waking from reverie only when Kannath roused her and he departed for his trip to town.  
  
The sun was just rising as Kannath arrived at the town of Dunnport, the place where Kannath had agreed to meet his friends. He took off for the agreed meeting place alone, and a little nervously. When he'd left he had promised to be back in less than a week and that they would leave the area shortly after that. It was a week even now, and he would have to tell them that he wasn't coming back and that the drow was gone. Above all things, Kannath prided himself on his honesty, but this time he would be forced to lie. Dathien's life depended on it.  
  
Dathien. They hadn't met that many days ago but already Kannath considered the drow a friend and had no doubts about him. So far has he was concerned the drow was innocent of the crimes of his race, but there was no way he would convince his party of this. Kannath sighed, then took a deep breath and entered the door to the tavern where his group was staying.  
  
The place was fairly clean, though a bit run-down. At first, Kannath did not see his companions, but then he heard his name being called from one of the corners of the tavern. Rhynn, the healer of his group waved at him to ensure that she had caught his attention from her position next to Jain, their ranger.  
  
"We were beginning to worry about you when you didn't show up yesterday, what happened with the drow? How did the village take your warning?" Rhynn spike rapidly, which was something unusual for her. Rhynn Grath was one of the most calm humans Kannath knew and for her to speak rapidly meant she was agitated about something.  
  
"The village responded immediately. They are taking extra care in their watch about the area and they sent out their best tracker to hunt the drow down. I followed her myself to be sure that the drow was taken care of."  
  
"And? He is dead now?" Rhynn asked.  
  
Kannath nodded.  
  
"That is good to know." Jain said quietly from his place at the table. "Are you certain that there were no other drow?"  
  
"As certain as I can be. We questioned the drow before he died. He said there were no others."  
  
"You are certain he was telling the truth? Drow are known for lying." Jain asked, looking doubtful. Rhynn said nothing but her expression told Kannath that she feared the same thing.  
  
"Positive." To his own ears, Kannath's voice seemed cold and harsh. The realization that he would be having this conversation truthfully with Rhynn and Jain if Iria had not stopped him made him shudder.  
  
Jain clapped a hand on Kannath's shoulder. "Sometimes you have to do things that you would prefer to avoid. At least the village is safe."  
  
"At least." Kannath replied, allowing a ghost of a smile to return to his face. "Where are the others?"  
  
"Still asleep. The sun has only just risen. Where else would they be?' Rhynn gestured toward the upper part of the inn. "Are you that anxious to get moving again?" She continued with a laugh.  
  
Kannath smiled but could not manage a laugh. "Actually, that is what I needed to talk about. I'm leaving the group for a while. It has something to do with the drow, actually. I will be traveling with the ranger shortly and I am not entirely certain as to when I will be back."  
  
"Trouble?" Jain asked softly. "If there is something we can do for you, you know we will do it. You have been with us for nearly a year, we don't want to lose you."  
  
For a moment, Kannath was ready to tell Jain what was going on, then he shook his head. "It is nothing that the ranger and I cannot handle, honestly. Worry not about it." He rose from the table, anxious to be done with this ruse and started for the inn's exit.  
  
"Kannath!" Jain's call stopped him and he turned, his blood racing.  
  
"Do you want us to hold onto your supplies or are you taking them with you?" He continued more gently.  
  
Kannath flushed, in his rush he'd forgotten about his supplies.  
  
"I suppose I had best bring them along with me. My thanks, I'd forgotten." Kannath replied.  
  
"We left your things with your horse, except for your fiddle, that is up in our room." Rhynn said as she tossed him the key to the place they had been staying for the last few nights.  
  
"Again, my thanks." Kannath said. He retrieved his fiddle, returned the key then saddled his horse and rode off. In his anxiousness to return to Iria and Dathien he missed the concerned glance that passed between Rhynn and Jain, and the shadow that followed on foot as he began his trek back. 


	8. As it all Goes Wrong Again

Author's Notes: Well, it took a while but I am back and updating. Sorry about last week and the upcoming weekend. I didn't get the chance to write a lot, but I have about twenty pages written out that I haven't gotten to posting yet. Also, the bit where Fanfiction froze me for a week due to a contest challenge that I posted a year ago which was just now deemed illegal did not help .... Ah well. Belated it is, but finally I have an update!  
  
It occurrs to me that if I don't want to drive you fine people insane with delayed updates that two weeks is a more reasonable time to post anyway. That way I have a chance to keep an update in reserve so that I can work on it and post it at a later date if I don't get around to writing what I know I need to. Hopefully I won't be putting off other updates for such a terribly long time again. Sincere apologies for this!  
  
Thankyou for your reviews, once more, and thanks for waiting.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
. Kannath rode ahead of Jain before they'd traveled too far, but the ranger remained unconcerned. Kannath's path was easily traceable, and Jain knew it would remain so. Though Kannath had some talent when it came to tracking others, he had never learned the talent of concealing his own trail.  
  
Jain's only worry was what kind of trouble Kannath could have possibly gotten himself into. He had never left the party to solve things before and Jain knew that for Kannath to be agitated enough to go, and almost forget his fiddle something quite serious had to be going on.  
  
His group had stumbled across Kannath in the town of Dunnshire while they were investigating disappearances in the town. The elf was playing the part of a musician at the town they visited and asked to be allowed into the party. They had allowed him in, doubtful that he could be of any real help, but Kannath had proven them wrong. Kannath had proven his value, both as a bard and as a fighter when need be. Since then they had worked as a group. Now something threatened to change that, and Jain would not allow it to happen needlessly.  
  
It was dusk when he finally reached the place that Kannath and his companion had chosen to camp. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A female wood elf tended the fire and Kannath was attending to the horses. She might have been attractive, Jain observed, if not for the scar that ran across her cheek and marred her appearance. There were three horses, Jain noticed, though he only saw two elves. All three were outfitted for traveling, though Kannath had said that there were only two in their party. Jain moved forward another ten feet then scanned the camp again. He froze as the sound of someone approaching the camp from the left reached his ears and he watched in horror as the drow strode into camp.  
  
His fear and concern for Kannath evaporated as the elf greeted the drow warmly in the drow's own tongue. Horror was replaced by a feeling of betrayal and mounting anger as he realized that this was the same drow Kannath had claimed to have tortured and killed that morning.  
  
Filled with rage Jain crept closer to the camp then drew his sword and charged at the drow, determined to destroy the creature who had corrupted his friend.  
  
Kannath called out a warning and the drow turned. By this time Jain was only a few feet away and the drow was unarmed. With a yell, Jain drove his sword forward.  
  
What happened next did not seem as if it was possible. The drow caught the blade between his palms and kicked at the ranger's hand and the sword's hilt, then flipped the sword out of the ranger's hand and placed the blade at his throat. It happened before Jain even had the chance to realize that the sword had not met it's mark.  
  
Jain waited for the blow to fall, and when it didn't he dared to look up. Kannath said something in drowish and started approaching.  
  
Jain felt the sword shaking slightly as Kannath approached. Are you truly that eager to kill me? He thought in contempt. He dared not meet the drow's gaze, for fear of setting it off.  
  
Kannath was now only a few paces from Jain, and he was still talking to the drow in it's tongue. What exactly was said Jain was uncertain but the drow handed the sword to Kannath, then stepped away, leaving Jain facing his former party member alone.  
  
"I had thought that you were a true friend, not someone who could be corrupted and turned against his allies so easily as this." Jain spat on the ground to accentuate his disgust.  
  
"Jain ..." Kannath began, his expression one of despair. Jain waited a few moments for the elf to make some sort of an excuse for this, but none was forthcoming.  
  
"I do not know what the drow offered you but the price must have been high indeed for you to have betrayed your own party and your people as well." Jain continued, trying to provoke Kannath into giving way something.  
  
"He was offered nothing." The female elf said, stepping up to Kannath and taking the sword from him, facing the human ranger squarely. "Kannath joined us of his own will and he left your company because he knew you would not understand this."  
  
"Threats then? I understand corruption very well elf." Jain retorted. "And I understand the nature of drow as well."  
  
"No threats." Kannnath said softly as the female elf pressed the sword against his neck slightly. "Dathien is not what you assume him to be."  
  
Jain looked over at the drow as the sword came away from him slightly. The drow was watching them from a distance. Jain noted that he carried no visible weapons or armor, just the ragged pants that they had first spotted the drow wearing during that encounter in the woods and a newer shirt. If the drow understood what was being said he gave no indication. His eyes, Jain noted were blue and seemed calm, even if the drow wore a troubled expression. The fact that Kannath was still alive told Jain that either this drow was truly alone or a far distance from his allies.  
  
Several years ago his group had stumbled across what had been an elven village before it had been ransacked by the drow. Memories of this still woke him occasionally.  
  
Yet perhaps this drow was different ... Jain would like to have believed this but everything he knew told him that this could not be, and that his friend was placing his life at great risk.  
  
The female elf asked Kannath something in what sounded like a form of elvish but some variation that Jain had not heard of. Kannath replied in the same dialect and the two began a hushed conversation.  
  
Jain kept perfectly still, waiting for something to happen. The sword came back a slight distance more from his neck and Jain sprang into action. He feigned a sudden loss of balance and fell to his knees, below the sword, then pulled a dagger from his boot, rolling away from the sword and charging at the drow.  
  
He heard the sword swish behind him and heard Kannath yell out something but his attention was entirely on the drow as he brought the dagger forward and lunged for his heart. The drow moved to the side, ducking under the blade. Jain turned as he passed, ready to attack the drow again but this time the drow was ready for him. He saw the fist flying for his face only a moment before the blow to his head, followed by a kick to the gut and another to the groin. Jain fell to the ground, winded, dizzy and in a lot of pain. He heard movement above his head and saw the butt of his own sword coming down to meet his temple. Then he fell into darkness.  
  
Jain opened his eyes again to find himself in the same clearing he had collapsed in, still on the ground. Kannath and the drow were gone but the female elf remained. She looked over to him as he tested the ropes that kept him bound but made no other move. Jain struggled with the ropes for a moment more, then gave up on undoing them without help.  
  
"You could have killed me while I was unconscious rather than waiting for me to wake up, unless you plan to torture me. Considering your company, that does seem like the more logical of the two choices." Jain finally said after a moment of silence.  
  
The elf shook her head. "I have no plans to harm you, Jain Tathitch. Kannath told me of you and I will not harm one of Mielikki's followers. Especially when I do not have to."  
  
"Since the drow and their companions are well known for their compassion and mercy I will believe you of course." Jain replied sarcastically.  
  
The elf clenched her jaw and her hand strayed to the sword. Jain tensed, expecting her to attack, then mentally sighed relief as she shook her head and moved away from the weapon.  
  
"I cannot blame you for your actions, for I know that most would make them."  
  
Jain began to laugh at that, but stopped as he realized that she was serious.  
  
"Kannath and Dathien are gone. They packed and left after I knocked you unconscious. We are going away from the elven village ... my home and we are not seeking trouble." She explained as she rose from the ground, walked to him, then knelt by his side.  
  
Up close, Jain couldn't help but notice that her eyes were an intense blue flecked with gold. Their intensity lent a unique look bordering on beauty to the elf's face that the scar could not take away.  
  
"I swear to you that Dathien has done no evil and I know him to be good." She stared at him for a moment and Jain felt as if he was being measured.  
  
"You do not believe me completely, of course. Who would without proof?" She reached for a gold chain that was hanging around her neck. The pendant she produced bore the sigil of Mielikki.  
  
"The drow could have killed you as you fought, or turned on Kannath and I at any point, but he has chosen not to. I swear, as a follower of Mielikki that if he ever shows himself to be evil I will not hesitate to kill him." Her eyes settled upon Jain's evenly. "If this day comes I will seek you out, that you might deliver the appropriate punishment. I do not ask you to name the drow as good, only to give him time to prove what he truly is. Allow his actions to dictate what you make of him, for I assure you, he is no ordinary drow."  
  
Saying this, she sliced the ropes that bound his arms then handed the dagger to Jain.  
  
"Your weapons and supplies are in the tree to the left. I go now." The elf took several strides towards the forest, then whistled. A horse appeared and she jumped on it with a single graceful motion, then rode off.  
  
Jain sliced the constraints that bound his feet and watched as the elf bounded off into the forest on her horse. She glanced back at him once, then turned away and continued on at full speed.  
  
For a moment, Jain considered following her again, then decided against it. There was nothing to gain, not now when they would be watching and waiting for him to follow. Besides, Rhynn was waiting for news on Kannath, and the rest of his group as well. What do I do? Jain wondered. Usually answers came easily to him but this time he was torn. 


	9. Journey's End For a little while

Author's Notes:

Alright, I lied. I'm running out of pre-written material but I still have enough for about two updates. With any luck my muse will be willing to start picking up after my slack and help me to get this story posted at reasonable intervals.

Thankyou, all of you for reviewing this story. Knowing that someone else is reading this and waiting to find out what happens next is truly a giddy feeling. This update is extra-long to make up for the length of time between it and the last update.

In truth, I have most of the story planned out, I just need to actually sit down and write it. The story will not be finished anytime soon, there is far too much action to happen before what I'd like to make the end of the story. If I manage what I'd like to, this story will come to about the length of one of Salvatore's works and neatly loop into his world and his works. Well, that's the theory anyway. Here's hoping it works!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Dathien waited with Kannath for Iria's return. They had ridden most of the night and only stopped when the sun had become too painful to his still light-sensitive eyes. The drow had dismounted gratefully, though quite clumsily. Muscles that he hadn't known he possessed had apparently disagreed with the ride and were making sure that he knew exactly what they thought of it. Despite them, until he'd dismounted he had enjoyed the ride through the woods on the marvelous creature Kannath called a horse quite a bit. Their continued movement kept him focused on how to best ride the creature, and in admiring their surroundings rather than thinking about what he had almost done.

Though the day was warm, the drow shivered as he thought about the human, one of Kannath's friends.

He wasn't sure what was worse, that he had almost killed a human or that he had /_reacted/ _like that on instinct. As he'd held the sword to Jain's throat he had felt the desire to kill and remembered how to do so most efficiently. Those thoughts had frozen him in place and caused his hand to shake with fear. Even after Kannath had taken the sword from him, memories of fighting moves, practice and training routines came rushing back.

The worst thing though was the remembered sound of children screaming. Despite his attempts to shake the sound aside he found that it echoed in his mind, haunting him and taunting him. A reminder that the truth of what he was was stirring just beneath the surface of his memory. He found himself hoping it would stay that way. To fear what he might have been and guess at atrocities was one thing. To /_know/ _what he had done, with his own hands and not be able to deny it was another. If his memories did indeed return with details of this sort of life Dathien planned to ask Kannath to finish what he'd started, or to confront the human ranger again without attempting to save himself.

Dathien pushed away those thoughts, but only with force. They remained distant for perhaps a minute, then the sound of screaming children came back. Miserably, the drow tried to push the sounds away again but found that he could not. After a few tries the drow gave up and stared through squinted eyes at the sun. The light from it assaulted his eyes and the physical pain seemed to negate the emotional pain.

Kannath noted the drow's agitation as he set up camp for the day. He made several half-hearted attempts to start up a conversation but the drow heard none of them

It was only when Kannath stopped working and took a seat by Dathien that the drow came out of his thoughts.

"Speak your mind and have done with it." Kannath said bluntly.

"When the ranger, your friend Jain attacked with his sword, I remembered how to parry the blow."

"That moved saved your life." Kannath said softly. He'd been too far away to do anything other than marvel as the drow had stopped Jain's charge without using any weapon.

Dathien nodded. "When I saw that sword I reacted, then I /_remembered/ _how to react. Killing moves, training routines, drills, all of it returned. Kannath, I _know _how to fight. I know how to fight much better than I should, yet I still have no idea what I was or what I did." The drow's confusion and worry showed as clearly in his expression as it did in his voice and Kannath felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Perhaps what you most need to know is what is coming back first." He suggested hopefully. "However you ended up here, chances are you needed to fight at least once. It is not so uncommon an ability, and knowing how to fight does not necessarily mean anything."

The drow shook his head. "You do not understand. I should not be this good."

Kannath made a noise of amusement at the drow's seeming arrogance. "You really think you are that well trained?"

Dathien gave him a look and the noise died in his throat. Carefully, the drow stood up and searched around for a moment before his eyes settled on an appropriately sized stick. The drow picked up the stick and flipped it casually in his hands then snapped it before launching into what appeared to be a training routine. The stick looked to be little more than a blur and the drow moved with a speed and intensity that was both astonishing and almost frightening. In all of his life Kannath had never seen anyone move with such deadly precision and skill as that moment, and the sight left him breathless.

The drow moved across the forest floor, perfectly balanced and in seeming perfect harmony with the weapons in his hand. The two sticks moved with a precision that created an impenetrable defense against any foes as the he moved with a grace Kannath could only envy. He lunged, feinted and stabbed forward in such a way that it actually looked effortless. Dathien finished the routine with one last blurring movement then sat back down gracefully. Kannath noted that the drow had not broken a sweat during the exercise, though by all rights he should have been tired.

"I take my words back." Kannath said, "You are better than anyone I've seen fight."

The drow nodded in response, then sighed, seemingly not too pleased with this information.

"Perhaps it is a sign that other memories are on their way." Kannath suggested, "And even if this is not true, at /_least/ _you will be able to fight. For a drow, in the Underdark or no, such seems to be a needed skill."

"True enough." The drow agreed reluctantly. "Though I would give much not to have this skill or to know what it means. I fear ..." Dathien paused and considered his words. "I /_know/," _he corrected, "that my hands are not clean of blood. I fear discovering whose and how much."

Kannath thought on this for a moment, trying to find some way to refute this before realizing that Dathien was right. As a drow, below or above ground it simply did not make sense. To know as much as he did ... Dathien was different from any drow Kannath had heard of but there was no logical explanation for that level of fighting skills unless one used them, and had fought to the death. Yet Kannath knew that he had killed too. He had focused his attacks on those who were evil, true, but his hands were no less stained for that.

"Perhaps what matters most is not who you were, but who you are capable of becoming. Let your past be just that, your past. Focus instead on who you wish to be. Whatever you were you can leave it behind if you try hard enough."

"Perhaps in theory." Dathien agreed hesitantly, "but in reality?"

"In my travels I have heard many stories of humans and elves alike who have gone from being dishonorable folk to being heroes. Each of them managed, despite their past, to become someone worthy of respect."

The drow laughed at that. "These villains-turned heroes, have you met any of them personally? Can you prove that they exist, or are they simply stories of hope?"

"Rhynn." Kannath replied. "She was a member of my group and she used to have quite a reputation. The story is one I do not have the right to tell but she caused much injury to others before turning away from violence and towards her God." Kannath remembered very well when Rhynn joined their group. They had taken the former assassin in with some doubts but Rhynn had proven her dedication and reversal of ways so many times since then that she had earned everyone's trust.

"Dathien, you are the first I've heard of, in my time to bear the mark of Mielikki, regardless of race. Trust in that, trust in the Goddesses judgment and worry only about what comes next. If you dismiss what you were, whatever you were, then it will cease to matter."

Dathien nodded, then patted his shoulder. The mark of Mielikki no longer glowed as it had that first night but other than that the sigil had remained the same. "The Mark of Mielikki, hm?" He repeated, marveling at the trust that this goddess had shown by giving him the right to bear her mark when he knew so little about her. "Well then, as a bearer of her mark I suppose what I should do first is learn how to properly follow Her ways ..."

"Mielikki does not force her followers to bend to her will." Kannath explained, "the path of Mielikki is more one of following your conscience and learning about the balance of nature. Many use this skill as Rangers, like Iria, and to protect."

"Ranger..." The drow repeated the surface word. The drow tongue had no translation for the term but somehow it seemed familiar. "It sounds like a good thing to be. Perhaps I can put these blades to good use." He mused, a half-smile coming to his face at the thought of a drow actually doing good.

_/I will not worry about what I have been, what I am now and what I am becoming, those things I can change. For the Goddess, and for myself as well, I will,/ _he vowed silently.

They traveled quickly for the next few days, pausing only to rest and to gather food. Iria led the way, taking them through the most-isolated and deeply wooded paths she could find. All three knew that the less they were seen the better, as Dathien's dark heritage was bound to get them into trouble with those who did not understand.

With this in mind, Dathien pushed himself to the edges of his endurance, closing his eyes and relying on the horse to lead him correctly when the light grew too harsh for his eyes. The discomforts of traveling seemed a small price for the companionship of the two elves who had taken it upon themselves to guide and watch over him. Without them he had little doubt that he would have gotten lost or come across a group that he could not flee from and have suffered a violent death based on what he was. Iria and Kannath had disregarded the fearsome stories and experiences they'd had in order to give him a chance to prove himself and for that he was extremely grateful. He knew that they would stand by him and protect him if need be despite the possible costs to themselves. This loyalty ran contrary to everything he knew his people held dear. Indeed, part of him balked at the seeming madness of it. The other part marveled at it. He found himself silently promising to do whatever it took to repay them for their kindness and to ensure that no harm came to them. Between jests and conversations he found this loyalty deepening into the ties of friendship.

During the trip Dathien also found himself opening up and joining in on their conversations more and more. Though he had little to say about his past, he remembered enough about his people to trade information about their respective homes and people. At the same time, he was frantically trying to remember everything Iria told him about Mielikki and the wilderness. She had taken the news that he wanted to follow the ways of her goddess with a smile, pausing only long enough to ensure that he knew what he was committing himself to before beginning a thorough teaching of what she though he needed to know and prove himself capable of.

Iria was an eager and skilful teacher and under her tutelage the wilderness transformed from a place of mystery to something more like an old and trusted friend. As he learned and Iria explained things that he didn't know, Dathien realized that he had to have lived in the Underdark all of his life. Too many things that even a human babe took for granted struck him as being new and mysterious. The slight changing of colors of the leaves into new, lush colors as the summer which Iria assured him would change even more come fall were one such example. Iria and Kannath's descriptions of the different villages elves, humans, dwarves and gnomes called their own left the drow wide-eyed and amazed. As Iria corrected his misconceptions on how most elven villages were set up and what they looked like, Dathien allowed himself to breathe even easier. Based on what she told him there were yet many things that he did not understand about their world, things he could not have missed if he'd taken part on an elven village raid. The remembered sound of children screaming disappeared from his dreams and he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart.

And so, it was in a state of half-relief and half-regret that Dathien found himself in when they at last arrived at the grove Iria called home. While he was glad that they had arrived at their destination safely, Dathien knew he would miss the open roads and the feeling of exploration he had felt when on them. At the same time, he found himself extremely relieved to dismount from the horse he had been riding and cover ground with his own two feet again. As much as he had enjoyed the contact with the horse, he knew that he would not miss the aches and pains that riding it had induced.

Aside from that, as they entered the grove, Dathien felt the sensation of many eyes watching him. The drow tried to brush the feeling off as one of paranoia but found himself unable to do so. The forest, which had seemed so full of noise and movement while they were journeying towards this grove had grown absolutely still and the disharmony of it did nothing to comfort him. He glanced over to Kannath and his alarm grew. The elf was as taut as a bowstring and one hand rested upon the hilt of his sword. Still, Iria seemed unconcerned and confidently led the way to the center of the grove. It was only when she had reached it that she turned to regard them both then burst out laughing.

Without bothering to explain she turned away from them and cupped her hands to her mouth, letting out a twittering call. Instantly the forest around them came to life as if a curse had been broken. Birds burst from their trees followed by squirrels and all manner of other furred creatures, each making a beeline for the ranger and chattering away at top speed. Among them was a large hawk which was nearly entirely white. This bird landed first, perching itself upon her shoulder before the smaller birds landed, seemingly unafraid of the creature. Iria laughed as they raced up her arms, then launched into their own speech while Kannath and Dathien stared in amazement. Her conversation lasted for several minutes, during which time the hawk left Iria's shoulder and flew over to Kannath and Dathien. To Dathien it seemed as if the bird was looking for a place to land and so he lifted his arm in front of him to forma comfortable perch. The hawk landed gracefully, retracting its talons as it did so so that the drow's skin remained uninjured. The hawk leaned forward; cocking its head and fixing the drow with a curious, intelligent look. Dathien stared back at and did his best to impart that he meant no harm. The hawk gave a satisfied, almost humanlike nod then inched its way up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder. Dathien got the feeling that he had passed some sort of unspoken test, a feeling that was reaffirmed when Iria shot him a pleased look before calling the bird back to her side. The hawk took off lightly, far more lightly than Dathien expected anything of its weight to manage. It landed on Iria's shoulder, scattering the other birds as it settled down again.

"This is Shavariel," Iria said by way of explanation, "My partner and the one who watches over the grove while I am away." The hawk made an odd chirruping sound and began nibbling on a strand of Iria's hair.

"Amazing ..." Kannath said in awe. "Truly you trained him well." The elf reached out a hand to pet the bird then drew back his hand as Shavariel made a noise of protest and glared at him. Shavariel turned to Iria and made the same chirruping nose as before.

"Shavariel is a she." Iria explained. "And she does nothing that she does not want to do. Of the two of us, I am probably the more trained one."

Dathien laughed at that and after a moment Kannath joined in.

"She is not an ordinary bird, is she?" Dathien asked, stroking Shavariel's smooth feathers. The hawk preened a little, then rubbed her head against his hand.

"She is anything but ordinary." Iria confirmed. "When I first found this grove she was already here, waiting for me as if in welcome. She has lived much longer than any natural hawk would and she is much more intelligent than any other hawk I have met. Shavariel would also tell you that she is prettier than the rest of them as well, the vain thing she is."

Shavariel trilled in what sounded like agreement at the comment and continued to preen herself.

"Amazing creature." Dathien said reverently, truly meaning it. Kannath murmured his agreement.

At Iria's insistence, they unsaddled their horses and set them loose to graze. Kannath protested this at first, then stopped when Iria shot him a look.

"They will come when needed." She explained. "You give your mount far too little credit."

Kannath threw up his hands and sighed at that but did as asked. Dathien watched his moves as he fumbled with his own horse's straps. It took him a little longer, but he managed to unsaddle his horse and remove the packs. His horse whickered at him as he finished, lowering her head so that the strap to unbuckle her bridle was easier to reach. He thanked it silently as he undid it, then stroked her mane. In response, the horse nuzzled against him and seemed to sigh in satisfaction. Dathien let out a surprised laugh, then looked over at Kannath and Iria, who were both watching.

"You will make a fine ranger." Iria said approvingly.


	10. Confrontations much belated update

_Author's note: My most sincere apologies on the length of time between the last update and this one. I never planned to let this story go so long without an update. Unfortunately this has been and continues to be a very difficult semester for me and I have not had a lot of spare time to write and to update things._

_I have not abandoned this story. However, I can make no guarantees as to when the next update might be. I thank all of you who have been reading and have submitted reviews very much for your input and ask you to please bear with me for just a little longer._

_Sooner or later this semester has to end, and then I will have the free time I want and need to be able to work on this properly._

Though Dathien had no memory of what his life had been like before he lost his memory, he had little doubt that the following month was the happiest time that he had ever spent. The peace and serenity of Iria's forest home seeped into his soul and seemed to nestle there. He gave up on trying to decipher what he had been and settled for enjoying his new life to the fullest. His past did not matter anymore because he was a completely different being now. He threw himself into the lessons that Iria offered, reveling in the challenges and he learned what she had to offer with astounding speed.

The only thing which he found himself uneasy around were Kannath's and Iria's weapons. Upon Iria's request, he had borrowed a set of mistmatched swords in order to prove to her that he knew how to handle them. He had felt unclean for days afterward, but at doing so had given him the right to decline to the practice bouts that she had been so insistent on him taking in order to sharpen his skills. What exactly caused that level of uneasiness he wasn't entirely certain, but he preferred not to dwell upon it.

"How is it that walking about weaponless does not bother you?" Kannath asked one late afternoon when the two of them were alone. By then Dathien's eyes had adjusted well enough to the sunlight that it no longer bothered him to walk about in daylight. Dathien glanced down at his ragged clothing, then back up at the elf before answering.

"Why would it? This place is a sanctuary and we have yet to meet a visitor other than Iria's creatures. Other than yourself and Iria, there is no one who could use a weapon against me, and the two of you I trust completely." The drow brushed his hair back from his face as he continued, "Both of you had the chance to kill me yet you decided to trust me, how can I do any less?"

Kannath shrugged and said nothing more, though to Dathien the elf still seemed uneasy about the prospect of the drow going weaponless. Still, the elf did not try to argue, changing the topic of conversation to something more neutral, much to Dathien's relief.

About two tendays after they arrived at their forest home Kannath rode off into the wilds on his horse, promising to be back soon but stubbornly refusing to explain why it was that he was leaving. Dathien asked Iria and met with the same lack of response, though her secretive smile informed him that she was perfectly aware of what Kannath was up to.

Dathien's answer came a few days later when Kannath returned quite unexpectedly and in uncommonly good spirits. Dathien heard the jangling of the traces and Kannath's accompanying whistle and raced off to find the elf long before he reached the encampment. At the sight of the drow, Kannath dismounted cheerily and untied a pack from the horse's load, tossing it at the drow.

"Open this." Kannath ordered as the drow caught the heavy package with a grunt.

Dathien undid the tie that held the pack closed and opened the flap, then nearly dropped it in disbelief. With hands that trembled slightly, he withdrew a fine cloak, followed by a set of clothes all in the same shade of rich green, along with a chain mail shirt and a set of boots.

"To make up for your torn shirt." Kannath explained. Dathien knew better than to believe that. If Kannath had owed him anything for the attempt on his life, that debt had been long since repaid. Speechless with gratitude, the drow struggled to find a way to properly convey his thanks. After a few false starts the elf laughingly put up a hand in protest.

"You earned those. Now, put them on so you can show Iria."

Dathien ducked behind a tree as he changed, admiring the smooth feel of cloth against his skin and the flash of metal though he sincerely hoped that he'd have no need for the armor anytime soon.

Iria met them halfway back, her eyes lighting up when she saw Dathien's new outfit. With a spirited whoop she threw herself into the startled drow's arms and hugged him, then hugged an equally startled Kannath.

"Did you give him the rest of it?" She asked curiously, her head tilting to the side with curiosity.

Kannath shook his head. "I thought you would want to be here for that." The elf explained as he pulled a second pack down from the horse's back and handed it to Dathien. Metal clinked against metal as the drow accepted the heavy package. With Iria and Kannath both watching he opened it.

The sunlight reflected off the hilt and sheathes of a twin set of swords. Speechless yet again, the drow looked to Iria and Kannath, then back at the blades. He drew one of the blades, studying it. It was a beautiful blade, with no visible flaws or scratches visible along it's edge. He tested his finger against the blade, barely touching the edge before it cut. The sharpness had to be unnatural and the detailed embellishments along the hilt and pommels of both swords bore testament to the amount of work that must have gone into their crafting. The one he held in his hands was shaped to look like a dragon, with it's body making up the pommel, and it's mouth opening to breathe flames which were etched into blade which extended up from the hilt and went nearly halfway up the blade, diminishing in size as they traveled.

He looked back at Kannath and Iria once more for reassurance before giving the sword an experimental swing. The blade was perfectly balanced, he knew. He'd expected little else.

He took the other blade in hand, feeling a rush of familiarity as he did so. Experimentally, he twirled the swords, feeling a rush of exhilaration. The blades fairly sang as they moved, and they felt like natural extensions of the drow's hands. After a few twirls he brought the swords together in a cross parry, the sound of metal against metal singing out clearly. Iria and Kannath both looked on in excitement, wanting to see what their friend was capable of doing with real metal in his hands, however the drow noticed none of this.

The sound of clashing metal triggered other, darker feelings as half-formed images flashed in front of his eyes. Again he heard the sound of children screaming, this time accompanied by the sound of frantic chanting, shouts and screams. More horrifying than this, however was the sudden surge of adrenaline he felt at those sounds. The blades in his hands were ready and hungry for blood, as was some part of himself. Sickened by this image, the drow took an unsteady step back. His vision cleared and he saw Iria and Kannath again, watching him, eyes alit with the expectation of seeing what he was capable of, of the damage and death he was capable of dealing.

The drow dropped his swords and ran.

Sometime later Shavariel located Dathien perched high up above the forest floor on an exceptionally wide branch. The hawk landed on the branch next to him and chirruped at the drow curiously.

The drow's head rose from between his arms to regard her and she hopped forward expectantly, head angled upward as she watched his every move.

"Why do I remember these half images of battles, and what part did I play in them? I felt excitement at the thought of returning to them, even as the thought of fighting again terrifies me." He mused aloud.

"Of course, that is the problem. I do not want to return to fighting. I worry that by doing so I will do something terrible and truly earn the reputation that my people as a whole have obtained. Yet at the same time I find myself looking forward to the prospect of battle. Which of these two sides do I honor? Do I truly have a choice if I want to survive?"

Unable to answer that question, Shavariel merely nuzzled the drow with her beak as he stared out over the forest floor. Soon after that he saw Iria walk below him walking at a rapid pace and calling his name worriedly. He left a stab of guilt then for simply running off as he had done without giving an explanation. Iria and Kannath had saved his life, he owed them that at the least. He opened his mouth to call to her but stopped as Shavariel called out in his place and launched herself off the perch and down to the wood elf.

Iria looked up and spotted the drow, and her expression immediately changed from one of worry to one of relief, making Dathien feel even more guilty. She studied him for a moment, then started climbing the tree, moving with typical elven grace. She hopped lightly onto the branch he was on and took up a sitting position next to him as Shavariel flew off into the woods.

"She will be off to let Kannath know I found you." Iria explained as he watched the hawk depart.

"We were worried about you." She added quietly after a long silence.

"I shouldn't have run off like that." Dathien admitted, a guilty expression coming to his face.

"Perhaps." Iria replied as she studied him. "Then again perhaps it was the only thing you could rightly do."

Dathien turned to meet her gaze, startled by the thought. She winked at him, then continued.

"Of course, whether it was the right action or not depends upon what your reasoning was for running. There are many times when the best course is to run from a conflict, but there are just as many where one can not or should not." Iria chuckled, "From experience I know that some conflicts chase after you if you attempt to run from them, and often times when you face them again they are much more difficult to win against."

"How do you determine if a conflict is one which should be confronted?" He asked.

Iria considered the question for a moment, her gaze going back to the forest around them.

"If the conflict is going to follow you, it's best to face it that first time. The more you run from it, the larger it will seem to get and the harder it will be to face it. No matter how much you would like to avoid them, those are the confrontations that you must face. Otherwise, you run the risk of losing everything later on.

"You've experienced this." Dathien observed.

Iria nodded. "I have. When I was younger I used to think that I wanted to be an adventurer and travel from realm to realm looking for excitement and battle." Iria chuckled, though the laugh came out sounding almost painful. "I later realized that enough battles came my way without me looking for them and that battles are never as heroic and free of loss as I had imagined. I traveled with a group of friends then, elves equally dedicated to the sounds and sights of the battlefield and equally ready for combat. While we were staying in a small town called Sembridge, rumor came to us of a small encampment of ... enemies. We knew that they would cause trouble but we were tired and wanted to rest and recover."

Iria said the last part rather sheepishly and shot an embarrassed smile before clearing her throat and returning to her story. From her expression Dathien realized that what was about to follow would not be humorous, and he was right.

"The group that we didn't feel were worth the trouble to confront turned out to be the scouting force for a much larger group. They were merciless killers whose reputation preceded them... Word reached Sembridge of their approach only a day before... The villagers refused to leave their homes and called in as many re-enforcements as they dared to counter the ... the enemy. Despite that, despite all of our work to prevent the worst, the battle was terrible."

Iria put a hand to her eyes and shivered.

"It lasted a long, long time. My group fought as hard as it could, and the invaders were driven off, but just barely. Most of Sembridge was destroyed, and most of my party as well. All of us were seriously injured. I was hurt the worst ... out of those who survived. A priest who acted rather than thought is the only reason I did not die. As it is ..."

Iria lifted her shirt to show the angry scar which ran from her navel to her chest, along with several other, fainter scars that criss-crossed her torso.

"The result of being completely surrounded and outmatched." She explained before the drow could ask. "Considering what happened to the others I was fighting with ... I managed to do fairly well. After all, I survived."

Iria laughed harshly, and Dathien winced at the noise. While the injury might have healed, from her laughter it sounded as if the memory was still painful.

"The town was saved though, right? At least you succeeded in that."

Iria made a choked noise, then nodded. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked back down to the forest floor.

"At least." She agreed grimly. With an abrupt false cheer she turned to him.

"The townspeople were extremely grateful for our efforts in helping them to save the town. They had little to spare after the attack, but the helped us as best they could. Even now I have to admire that: their determination, their courage, and their refusal to back down, even when they knew it was hopeless..." Iria's voice faltered and died. She buried her face in her arms and fell silent.

While Dathien understood that what Iria was telling him was true, he also suspected that there was more to this particular story than she was telling him. It did not escape his notice that Iria had refused to explain exactly what the group attacking her had been after, or where they had come from. The pauses that she made as she spoke, the slight tremor in her voice and the way she avoided his gaze led him to believe that he understood why.

"The ... group that attacked you ... they were drow, weren't they?"

Iria's sharp intake of breath affirmed it for him even before her hesitant nod.

"Few others are as determined to destroy anything they can, and few others would enjoy it as much as my people do." He explained.

"You are not them." Iria said quickly, determinedly as she looked up and met his gaze once more.

"No I am not." He agreed, touched by the force with which she seemed determined to use to ensure him that he was not to blame. "However ... I fear that I might have been like them. I am willing, very willing to begin a new life. However, what I am does not change what I might have been, or what I might be once I take up those blades."

"You fear to take up a blade." Iria stated.

"I fear what I might become when I take up a blade." He explained. "Holding them brings the memory of battles, or at least the feelings of such. I faced such battles once enthusiastically, I enjoyed the killing, I think." The drow sighed. "If I take up a blade again, will that part of me which I do not recall take over? I cannot return to what I was."

He glanced over at the female elf, thinking that she could not possibly understand what he was attempting to explain. Iria wore a thoughtful expression, and their gazes locked for a moment. He opened his mouth to say more but no words came out. He looked away, feeling horribly out of place.

"You must think I am a monster." He said sadly.

To his surprise, Iria moved closer to him, putting an arm around his back and leaning slightly against him.

"No, I do not." She replied. "It seems to me though that we are at very opposite attitudes with who we were. You fear what you might have been while I, in many ways, long to return to what I was. Although I recovered from that fight I have many scars which have never truly healed. Of course, I am not talking about scars of the flesh. It has been many years since I ventured away from my own haven in the woods. I attend to the calls for aid that come to me but I no longer go out seeking adventure as I once used to." Iria smiled sadly. "Part of me misses those adventures but another part is terrified at the prospect of going out there and of being attacked ..." Iria shuddered a little, a move the drow felt distinctly as he wrapped an arm about her shoulder in comfort.

Iria shrugged off his arm. "Do not worry about me. This feeling of self-pity will pass."

"But not the problems underneath it." Dathien pointed out. Iria shot him a puzzled look.

"You said yourself that there were some things that you have to face at one time or another. Is this not one of them?"

"I have managed not to face it thus far..." Iria began to argue, and then stopped.

"What would you have done if instead of me you had encountered a patrol of them?"

"Shot as many as I could from afar, then died slowly and quite painfully, I imagine." Iria retorted sharply.

The drow put up his hands in a motion of mock defense and Iria made a noise of amusement.

"I understand your point. Whether it is drow or another group bent on my village's destruction, eventually I will find myself in a position where I must fight even though I fear the outcome might be my death. Such is the fate of any good ranger, after all. Thus far, these past few years have been fairly quiet, and I have been lucky. However, such cannot always be the case. If that battle comes, I want to make a proper accounting of myself, whether I win or lose, rather than to freeze in fear as I new believe I would. Still, I fear that I shall repeat the past."

"I doubt it." Dathien replied. "You carry with you more than the scars from that battle. Wisdom, caution, and new allies. You will not repeat your past. Not with us here beside you."

Iria considered that for a long moment and Dathien felt a surge of pride at being the one to offer assistance rather than the one to receive it for once.

"So ... by offering to be beside me, you agree to fight?" Iria asked, shattering that sense of serenity.

"I never said-" Dathien started to protest, then realized that he for the most part had.

"Our problems have the same solution." She explained, "You have to fight, like it or not."

Dathien shook his head in denial.

"You will remember who you are, bit by bit." Iria explained. "You have been doing such since you first awoke with no memory. This is only a speeding up of what would come naturally. It is for your own protection as well. Eventually you will find yourself in a position where you have to fight to defend yourself." Iria shot him a wink. "Kannath and I cannot defend you always."

The drow shook his head, trying to find a way out of the logic and utterly failing.

"You said yourself that there were some things that you have to face at one time or another. Is this not one of them?" Iria parroted his words back to him with an impish expression on her face as the drow threw up his hands in defeat.

"If you're going to force me to pick up a sword, I will expect you to uphold your part of the bargain." Dathien said at last, taking petty comfort in the fact that he was not the only one being forced into something they'd prefer not to do.

"Agreed. Just ... not yet. Both of us, I think, need more time. You need to learn about the people and events around you so that you understand when a sword should be used and for which side, and I need to gather my nerves." Iria chuckled. "This will not be easy for either of us, I imagine but we will do it."

Dathien agreed, perfectly willing to allow this matter to sit as it was. There was no need to rush.


End file.
