Drizzt Fanfic

Honestly, I don't remember what this was supposed to be about but I had an ongoing fascination with Drizzt when I still had enough time to do independent reading.

Drizzt’s face paled as one of the whelps’ drug a writhing body from the cave. His nails dug into the bark of the tree in which he sat, Guenhwyvar at his side. Far below, the orcs cursed and spat, each taking his turn at the body that lay, a blindfold pulled tightly over its eyes. Drizzt felt his temper rising; it appeared to be a woman, and a young one at that.

   “Come out, drow!” the orc general snarled, beating his sword against the splintered, wooden shield he carried, “and bring your hellcat with you!”

 Drizzt could resist no longer, his own heart throbbing at the lust of revenge. The girl lay motionless where they had thrown her, her face down in the dirt. An appalling smile curled up the orc general’s lips as Drizzt emerged from the night, Guenhwyvar at his side displaying flawless teeth. He eyed the orc briefly, the night wind pulling at his mane of long white hair. These orcs were smarter than those he had met at mooshie’s grove.

   “I want no fight.” Drizzt announced in the orc-tongue, folding his hands across his broad chest.

  The orc reached a hand to drag the girl to her knees by her blonde hair. She did not cry out or move to resist, although Drizzt saw her setting her jaw firmly. The orc held her fastly, sliding the tip of his sword beneath her chin, “Fight, or she dies.”

   Drizzt fought the urge to reach for his scimitars, keeping his arms folded. They were smart orcs, to be sure, but not even a smart orc knew what to expect from a drow.

  “Why would I care for a human girl?” He snorted, tossing his head away.

The orc’s face went blank a moment as thoughts began turning over behind its repulsing yellow eyes. Its grin returned suddenly, wider than before, “Then she is of no use to anyone, right drow?”

  Drizzt could fight the urge no longer as the orc pressed the blade against the girl’s throat, making a tiny line of crimson blood run down her neck. He did not feel his scimitars slide effortlessly into his hands, nor did he feel them falter as they sliced through orc flesh.

  Guenhwyvar yowled, sending expressions of horror across the tiny orc-band. The orc general held his sword tighter against the girl’s neck, turning his attention to the enraged drow that came towards him, scimitars flashing in the moonlight.

  “Come closer!” he yelled, “I’ll slice off her head!”

Drizzt stopped, the hunter giving way to a swirl of emotions that made his arms heavy. The girl’s chest panted quickly as she clawed at the sword vainly, gasping for breath. Drizzt felt the scimitars slide from his hands. They struck the ground. The orc general smiled wider, “Good. Now back away from them.”

  “Damn this.” Drizzt spat through his teeth, taking a step away from his fallen blades.

“Yahzee…!” the girl’s voice broke the silence. Drizzt flicked his gaze to her as she fought against the orc’s grip.

   “Shut up, b***h!” the orc snarled, jerked her head violently.

Drizzt stumbled back, nearly tripping over Guenhwyvar who had come to stand behind him, as a blue light flashed, pouring from the girl’s chest. The orc general seemed equally surprised and withdrew his blade as the blue light began to materialize, moving and warping until it became a solid.

   Guenhwyvar growled, extended her jagged claws and stepping defensively in front of Drizzt. Drizzt shielded his eyes, peering from under his arm to see the glowing form of an enormous wolf, breathed in blue faerie fire and pumping two huge black feathered wings.

  “What in all the hells…?” Drizzt breathed in horror as the white wolf scanned the host with pupil-less gold eyes. He looked away, rubbing his eyes desperately as the light from the wolf’s eyes glared at him directly, sending the gold light shivering throughout his body. “What manner of creature is this?!”

“Return!” someone shouted weakly and the giant wolf again faded into blue mist that quickly dissipated and was gone.

   Drizzt stood alone. The orcs had fled, leaving their weapons where they had dropped them. Piles of swords and crude spears lay everywhere and a single long sword lay next to the girl’s motionless body.

  His hands trembled as he stooped the pick up his scimitars, returning them to their sheathes, before he stood over the girl’s body. She moved. He danced back on light, elf feet, keeping his lavender eyes keen on her movements. Her body shook as she rose to her hands and knees. He looked over her, squatting a few feet away, his eyes curious as she felt around with her hands.

  “P-please…” she whimpered, her voice on the verge of tears, “S-someone…”

Drizzt moved forward, his hands outstretched to touch hers. Her eyes were still bound with the blindfold, he reminded himself, she couldn’t see that he was a drow and he doubted further she spoke the orc language.

  “You’re all right.” He said faintly in the common tongue.

She gasped back tears as she lunged forward suddenly, throwing her arms around him. Drizzt sat, dumbfounded with shock, as she clung to him desperately. Her body was small and light, frail against his, and her skin was ivory white.

   “It’s all right now,” he tried again, “You’re safe.” He reached a tentative hand to touch her gold colored hair that hung down her back. He had never been so close to a woman and his stomach wrenched hard, remembering the biting whips of Briza who had struck at him if he even so much as brushed against her in passing. This feeling was different, he was certain.

  Drizzt moved his hands to the blindfold’s knot behind her head. “Please,” he whispered as softly as if it were a prayer, “Don’t be frightened by what you see.”

   The blindfold fluttered in the night wind and was lost to the night. The girl sat, staring at Drizzt unblinkingly, her eyes glowing green as if they were embers of emerald. “What…are you?” she breathed out slowly.

    Drizzt could find no words as he sat, staring into her round, beautiful face. Her wide green eyes searched through his, seeming to reach to the very corners of his soul.

 “I am a drow.” He peeled his gaze away.

“Drow?” she mouthed the word as if tasting it. “I have heard of no such race.”

   “Never heard,” Drizzt gaped in disbelief, “of the dark elves?”

She shook her head, her innocent expressions of curiosity were almost more than he could bear. He stood suddenly, backing away a few steps. Guenhwyvar came to sit at his side, sending looks of equal puzzlement to the girl as she sat, her meager clothes ripped to rags.

   “That thing, what was it?” Drizzt blurted before he could remember any of the common manners Montolio had taught him.

 “Thing?”

   “You summoned it,” Drizzt persisted, “That monster, you called it, didn’t you?”

The young woman’s innocent expressions melted, sending looks of wounded sorrow across her face, “Not…not a monster.”

    Drizzt cursed himself. He knew that face, the very face he wore whenever someone accused him of being a murderer because of his own race. Guenhwyvar watched with keen eyes as Drizzt kneeled before her, taking one of the girl’s small, pale hands in his, “I’m sorry-“

  She jerked her hand back, wincing as tears began spilling down her cheeks. His eyes wandered down her arm to her hand, along where her fingers were bend and twisted out of place.

  “They are broken.” He said, reaching out for her hands again, “On both hands?” He could see it now, both hands bore five broken fingers, black and swollen.

“Why did they do this?” he looked into her pain- riddled face.

   She made no reply, looking away as strands of her long blonde hair stuck to her cheeks.

“Come.” He said, sliding his arms around her to lift her from where she sat. “Guenhwyvar, keep watch.”

 

 

 

Author's Note

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