Robert Salvatore: The Crystal Shard

“Yes, my friend,” Drizzt agreed. “In the spring. I shall see you to your home in the spring!”

Bruenor’s eyes cracked open again, their deathly glaze washed away by a hint of the old sparkle. A contented smile widened across the dwarf’s face, and Drizzt was happy that he had been able to comfort his dying friend.

The drow looked back to Wulfgar and Catti-brie and they, too, were smiling. At each other, Drizzt noted curiously.

Suddenly, to Drizzt’s surprise and horror, Bruenor sat up and tore away the bandages.

“There!” he roared to the amusement of the others in the tent. “Ye’ve said it, and I have witnesses to the fact!”

Drizzt, after nearly falling over with the initial shock, scowled at Wulfgar. The barbarian and Catti-brie fought hard to subdue their laughter.

Wulfgar shrugged, and a chuckle escaped. “Bruenor said that he would cut me down to the height of a dwarf if I said a word!”

“And so he would have!” Catti-brie added. The two of them made a hasty exit. “A council in Bryn Shander,” Wulfgar explained hastily. Outside the tent, their laughter erupted unheeded.

“Damn you, Bruenor Battlehammer!” the drow scowled. Then unable to stop himself, he threw his arms around the barrel-shaped dwarf and hugged him.

“Get it over with,” Bruenor groaned, accepting the embrace. “But be quick. We’ve a lot o’ work to do through the winter! Spring’ll be here sooner than ye think, and on the first warm day we leave for Mithril Hall!”

“Wherever that might be,” Drizzt laughed, too relieved to be angered by the trick.

“We’ll make it, drow!” Bruenor cried. “We always do!”

The people of Ten-Towns and their barbarian allies found the winter following the battle a difficult one, but by pooling their talents and resources, they managed to survive. Many councils were held throughout those long months with Cassius, Jensin Brent, and Kemp representing the people of Ten-Towns, and Wulfgar and Revjak speaking for the barbarian tribes. The first order of business was to officially recognize and condone the alliance of the two peoples, though many on both sides were strongly opposed.

Those cities left untouched by Akar Kessell’s army were packed full of refugees during the brutal winter. Reconstruction began with the first signs of spring. When the region was well on its way to recovery, and after the barbarian expedition following Wulfgar’s directions returned with the dragon treasure, councils were held to divide the towns among the surviving people. Relations between the two peoples almost broke down several times and were held together only by the commanding presence of Wulfgar and the continued calm of Cassius.

When all was finally settled, the barbarians were given the cities of Bremen and Caer-Konig to rebuild, the homeless of Caer-Konig were moved into the reconstructed city of Caer-Dineval, and the refugees of Bremen who did not wish to live among the tribesmen were offered homes in the newly built city of Targos.

It was a difficult situation, where traditional enemies were forced to put aside their differences and live in close quarters. Though victorious in the battle, the people of the towns could not call themselves winners. Everyone had suffered tragic losses; no one had come out better for the fight.

Except Regis.

The opportunistic halfling was awarded the title of First Citizen and the finest house in all of Ten-Towns for his part in the battle. Cassius readily surrendered his palace to the “tower-breaker.” Regis accepted the spokesman’s offer and all of the other numerous gifts that rolled in from every city, for though he hadn’t truly earned the accolades awarded him, he justified his good fortune by considering himself a partner of the unassuming drow. And since Drizzt Do’Urden wasn’t about to come to Bryn Shander and collect the rewards, Regis figured that it was his duty to do so.

This was the pampered lifestyle that the halfling had always desired. He truly enjoyed the excessive wealth and luxuries, though he would later learn that there was indeed a hefty price to be paid for fame.

Drizzt and Bruenor had spent the winter in preparation for their search for Mithril Hall. The drow intended to honor his word, though he had been tricked, because life hadn’t changed much for him after the battle. Although he was in truth the hero of the fight, he still found himself barely tolerated among the people of Ten-Towns. And the barbarians, other than Wulfgar and Revjak, openly avoided him, mumbling warding prayers to their gods whenever they inadvertently crossed his path.

But the drow accepted the shunning with his characteristic stoicism.

“The whispers in town say that you have given your voice at council to Revjak,” Catti-brie said to Wulfgar on one of her many visits to Bryn Shander.

Wulfgar nodded. “He is older and wiser in many ways.”

Catti-brie drew Wulfgar under the uncomfortable scrutiny of her dark eyes. She knew that there were other reasons for Wulfgar stepping down as king. “You mean to go with them,” she stated flatly.

“I owe it to the drow,” was Wulfgar’s only explanation as he turned away, in no mood to argue with the fiery girl.

“Again you parry the question,” Catti-brie laughed. “You go to pay no debt! You go because you choose the road!”

“What could you know of the road?” Wulfgar growled, pulled in by the girl’s painfully accurate observation. “What could you know of adventure?”

Catti-brie’s eyes sparkled disarmingly. “I know,” she stated flatly. “Every day in every place is an adventure. This you have not yet learned. And so you chase down the distant roads, hoping to satisfy the hunger for excitement that burns in your heart. So go, Wulfgar of Icewind Dale. Follow your heart’s trail and be happy!

“Perhaps when you return you will understand the excitement of simply being alive.” She kissed him on the cheek and skipped to the door.

Wulfgar called after her, pleasantly surprised by her kiss. “Perhaps then our discussions will be more agreeable!”

“But not as interesting!” was her parting response.

One fine morning in early spring, the time finally came for Drizzt and Bruenor to leave. Catti-brie helped them pack their overstuffed sacks.

“When we’ve cleared the place, I’ll take ye there!” Bruenor told the girl one more time. “Sure yer eyes’ll shine when ye see the rivers runnin’ silver in Mithril Hall!”

Catti-brie smiled indulgently.

“Ye’re sure ye’ll be all right, then?” Bruenor asked more seriously. He knew that she would, but his heart flooded with fatherly concern.

Catti-brie’s smile widened. They had been through this discussion a hundred times over the winter. Catti-brie was glad that the dwarf was going, though she knew that she would miss him dearly, for it was clear that Bruenor would never truly be contented until he had at least tried to find his ancestral home.

And she knew, better than anyone, that the dwarf would be in fine company.

Bruenor was satisfied. The time had come to go.

The companions said their goodbyes to the dwarves and started off for Bryn Shander to bid farewell to their two closest friends.

They arrived at Regis’s house later in the morning, and found Wulfgar sitting on the steps waiting for them, Aegis-fang and his pack by his side.

Drizzt eyed the barbarian’s belongings suspiciously as they approached, half-guessing Wulfgar’s intentions. “Well met, King Wulfgar,” he said. “Are you off to Bremen, or perhaps Caer-Konig, to oversee the work of your people?”

Wulfgar shook his head. “I am no king,” he replied. “Councils and speeches are better left to older men; I have had more of them than I can tolerate. Revjak speaks for the men of the tundra now.”