Robert Salvatore - The Lone Drow

"Mithral Hall is our destination as well," came Nanfoodle's voice from the back of the camp, and the gnome came forward under Galen's scrutinizing glare. "Forgive the misdirection illusion that greeted you, good rider of Nesmй. One cannot be too careful, after all."

"Indeed," said Galen. "Especially where illusionists are concerned."

Nanfoodle grinned and bowed.

"Your horse shines with sweat," Shoudra remarked. "He cannot run much farther this night. Come, share our evening meal with us and tell us your tale of Nesmй more completely. We will accompany you with all haste to find King Bruenor, and I will add what weight I can to the urgency of your cause."

"That is most generous, Sceptrana," Galen replied.

He moved to the side and tethered his horse.

"This is not good," Nanfoodle whispered to Shoudra while they were alone by the fire.

"I only hope the Marchion is more sympathetic to Nesmй's plight than he has shown toward outsiders of late," Shoudra replied.

"King Bruenor will send aid," Nanfoodle reasoned, and Galen Firth, heading into the camp by then, heard him.

"I can only hope that King Bruenor's memory is short concerning slights," Galen admitted, drawing curious looks from both.

"He came through the region of Nesmй some years ago," the newcomer explained as he took an offered seat on a log beside the fire. "I fear that my patrol did not treat him very well." He gave a little sigh and lowered his eyes, but then

quickly added, "It was not King Bruenor who instilled our doubts and fear, but his traveling companion, a drow elf."

"Drizzt Do'Urden," Shoudra remarked. "Yes, I expect that the company Bruenor keeps is off-putting to many people."

"I am hoping that the dwarf will see beyond our past indiscretion," said Galen, "and recognize that it is in his best interests to bolster Nesmй in her time of need."

"From all that we know of King Bruenor, we would expect no less," Nan-foodle put in, and Shoudra nodded her agreement.

Galen Firth nodded as well, but his expression held grim.

The night deepened around them, and given Galen's news of Nesmй, the darkness seemed all the more intimidating.

* * *

"A big well-done for yer friend Rumblebelly," Banak Brawnanvil said to Catti-brie as he and a group of others looked over the rope-strewn cliff facing down into Keeper's Dale, to see a substantial dwarf force moving east-to-west across the valley.

"He's one to count on," Catti-brie remarked. "Oo oi!" Pikel Bouldershoulder seconded.

"Well, I feel better knowing the dale's secure behind us," Ivan Boulder-shoulder joined in. "But I'm still thinking that the ridge to the west is a problem in the making."

All eyes turned to the north and west as Ivan reminded them, to view that e long mountain spur, the only higher ground in the region that seemed at all accessible.

"The orcs have been hunting beside giants," Ivan added. "They might be thinking to put a few o' them up there."

"Giants couldn't reach us from up there," Banak answered, the same reply he had offered earlier in their strategy discussions. "Long way off."

"Still a good place for them to hold," Ivan countered. "Even if they just put a few scouts up there, it will give them a fine view of the entire battlefield." It is good ground," agreed Torgar Hammerstriker. "Yer scouts get back from the ridge yet?" Banak asked. 'It's clear so far," Torgar reported. "Me boys said the place is full of tunnels. Quite a network, as far as they could tell. They're guessing that some would lead up to the high ground."

"Probably," said Ivan.

"Let me take a hunnerd," Torgar offered. "I'll go and hold those tunnels."

"And if they find out ye're there?" Banak asked. "Them orcs might come on ye in full. I'm not for losing a hundred!"

"Ye won't," Torgar assured him. "There's an entry into the tunnels way back near to the Keeper's Dale cliff, just down to the west o' here. We'll get in fast and get out faster, if need be."

Banak looked to Ivan for some answers, then to Catti-brie and Wulfgar.

"Catti-brie and I will move to the tunnel entrance and serve as liaison," Wulfgar offered.

Banak looked back out over his current defenses. They had turned the orcs back twice, though the second assault had been nowhere as determined as the first. The orc leader had simply come on again with his forces to disrupt the work of the dwarves, Banak understood, and he was quite a bit impressed by the unusual display of tactics.

Still, that second assault had done little to disrupt the dwarves' preparations, for Banak's warriors had repelled it with ease, and with many never stopping the rock chopping and stone piling. The battlefield was nearly shaped, with solid walls of piled stones forcing any orc charge into a bottleneck. Given that and the fact that the engineers were done with their initial rope work along the cliff face, Banak knew that he could spare a hundred dwarves, even two hundred, without compromising his position.

For if the orcs came on, a large number of the dwarves would have to simply stand behind their fighting kin, missing all the fun.

"Take half of yer own and sweep those tunnels clear," Banak instructed Torgar. "And get a good look at what's to the north once ye get up atop them rocks, will ye?"

"I'll paint ye a picture," Torgar said with a wide grin.

"Hee hee hee," said Pikel.

"And if they come against ye with too much, ye get yerself and yer boys out o' there," Banak instructed. "I don't want to be telling King Bruenor that I lost all his new recruits before they even got themselves into his halls!"

"Ye're not to be losing Torgar and the boys from Mirabar to a bunch of smelly orcs!" Torgar insisted.

"Even if they bring a hundred giants beside them!" agreed Shingles McRuff, the old and grizzled dwarf standing beside Torgar.

Shingles gave a wink at Banak, then dropped a friendly hand hard onto Torgar's shoulder. Torgar's look told all the onlookers that the two were good old friends indeed. In fact, Shingles had been a friend of Torgar's family long before Torgar had seen his first sunrise over Mirabar, and that was centuries gone by.

When the Marchion of Mirabar had treated Torgar so shabbily, blaming him for the warm reception some of Mirabar's dwarves had given to Bruenor, Shingles had been the first to Torgar's side, and had, in fact, been the one to organize the exodus that had taken more than four hundred of Mirabar's finest dwarves out of the city and onto the road to Mithral Hall.

And there they were, a long way from their old home but with their new home in sight across Keeper's Dale. Before they had ever gotten near to Mithral Hall, they had chanced upon the caravan fleeing the disaster of Shallows with the wounded King Bruenor. Torgar, Shingles, and the Mirabarran dwarves had fought a rearguard for that caravan and had performed brilliantly.

Even with all the fighting, even with the orc hordes pressing down upon them, not one of the Mirabarran dwarves had shown the slightest inclination to turn back to their old city in the west.

Not one.

And soon after Torgar's meeting with Banak, with the potentially dangerous duty offered before them, not one backed away from volunteering to spearhead the push into the tunnels of the mountain spur.

Torgar left it to Shingles to pick the half who would accompany him.

* * *

The expressions on the faces of the three guests showed that the leader sitting on Mithral Hall's throne before them was not exactly who or what they had expected.

But Regis did not shrink away in the face of those obvious doubts.

"I am the Steward of Mithral Hall," he explained, "serving in the name and interests of King Bruenor."

And where is your king?" asked Galen Firth, his tone a bit abrupt and impatient.