Streams of Silver AU
Jul. 25th, 2025 11:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senmutA Diversion from the Trollmoors (4554 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden vs Artemis Entreri
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Wulfgar son of Beornegar, Regis [The Legend of Drizzt Series], Original Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, point of break is streams of silver, Ensemble Cast, Minor Character Death, Canon Typical Violence
Summary:
When Kolarven had agreed that they were possibly the best suited Knight in Silver to handle a diplomatic mission around the edge of the Silver Marches, they had hand-picked their group. Talaris was the only Spellguard they wanted for such a long journey, and having an older, decorated Knight like Mikhail was a good choice. With both Knights between squires at the moment, they looked a bit less like an armed war party. Bard Ruggero traveled with only one servant and one bodyguard, and all three had proven proficient in their horsemanship.
That Talaris could, and would, call for further aid if warranted made the small party work for quicker travel on the circuit that began in Everlund and circled so far south and west as Triboar and Yartar before looping back around and up through Nesme. Kolarven's instincts had proven correct, as the armor on both the Knights and their horses had done much to dissuade brigands from attacking six mounted beings.
Privately, Kolarven was all but certain Ruggero's bodyguard, a woman of almost six and a half feet in height had likely given as much pause as the armor visible. Now that they were on the Surbrin Trace between Mornbryn's Shield and Nesme, Kolarven was grateful to have her intimidating stature and axe, for they had to pass through lands far too close to the Evermoors for comfort.
Leryth, Kolarven's gelding, and Jemson, Mikhail's fine stud, both swiveled their ears forward at about the same time Ruggero's mare gave a nervous prance. Kolarven and Talaris listened with all they were and picked up the sound of battle ahead, pricking at their conscience. They had a diplomat and non-combatant to protect, but they also had sworn vows to aid all in need within the Silver Marches.
"Do I hear a martial strain ahead, good saers?" Ruggero asked, cheerful enough. "Let us hasten, and be of aid, if possible."
"If you are certain," Kolarven said, while Mikhail was focusing enough with his human ears to be more aware of it.
"I will, as agreed upon, remain back with Derevo, and Kali will aid with you," Ruggero said.
"I have defensive spells ready to place around you," Talaris agreed to that, and then the party, as one, picked up speed on the trace. The clash of blades all but came to a stop before the party could see the battle sight, but words carried in harsh voices.
"Foul company you keep, dwarf!"
"Your friend would be dead if it were not for that foul company! And he repays the drow with a blade!"
Drow.
Kolarven's shoulders rolled a bit even as they eased off the speed, coming into full view of the splintered bog blokes, dead or dying Riders and mounts, as well as five still upon their horses, facing a barbarian standing protectively over a downed — yes, that white hair indicated a drow — fighter while a dwarf in a dented, one-horned helmet shook his own axe menacingly at the men of Nesme.
"Hold your violence, both sides of this," Kolarven said, actually leaning into both their station as a Knight-Sergeant and their elven presence. "I see by the evidence that the inhabitants of the Moors spilled onto the trace, but what is this that Nesme threatens travelers that joined battle, by yon tribesman's word?"
"It is none of your concern," the lead rider spit, worked up into a fettle by the mere presence of a drow apparently, and neglecting his downed men. Kolarven raked a glance over the man, trying to place the flat small features of this human against Riders he knew of.
"Saer, you, and they, are currently impeding a diplomatic party of Silverymoon," Talaris called, trying to defuse this, and to ignore a drow that was not yet dead. "Pray put aside your violence and see to your men. We will wait, and keep an eye on the strangers."
"This isn't Silverymoon, nor nearer to her borders than ours!" the enraged man shot back. "There's a murderous drow right there, and we'll not let him pass!"
"We wish only to go our own way," said drow called back in a quiet, but carrying tone.
"Aye, as all we heard of Nesme seems to be lies among cowards after all!" the dwarf snapped.
Kolarven spared a moment to hope for patience in someone present, before leveling their gaze at the dwarf. "Diplomacy," they stressed, "is needed in the moment."
Mikhail cleared his throat to cut the dwarf's temperamental rebuttal off. "Saers, the Riders are charged to keep the Evermoors' inhabitants across the river. I suggest listening to the Knight-Sergeant's advice, and not aggravate this when there are men down, possibly dying."
"Already dead," one of the riders called, sparing a glance at the nearest body.
"Not the one who attacked my friend, though he might wish it," the barbarian said. "These new men speak truth, Riders. Gather up your dead and wounded, and leave us in peace."
"I won't let a lying, sorcerous dog of a drow — "
"Silence!" Kolarven shouted, cutting across all further words and the readying for further fighting. "I will personally escort them past your lands, if that is the direction they mean to go. Unless, Saer Rider, you wish to offend a diplomat charged by Lady Silverhand herself, and provoke our city?"
"Her reach is not so far!"
"Linder!" one of the other hissed.
"The good Knight speaks true," Ruggero said, "for your city calls upon ours for magical aid to beat back the Evermoors quite regularly. Do you wish to increase your duty so much? Are you so heartless as to ignore the suffering of your men who yet breathe in such pain as their injuries must provoke?"
"It is a drow!"
Kolarven shifted their weight, and Leryth shifted with it, making a better show of the muscle that the horse had to carry a Knight so well. "I will never understand how you humans manage to live with such fear knotted in your bellies around enemies that were never yours, that have inflicted maybe a tiny fraction of the indignities my own have seen!"
For the moment, they threw all of their human heritage aside, because this was beyond ridiculous.
"Pick. Up. Your. Men." Kolarven gestured, and Mikhail pushed forward, followed by Talaris, creating an equine wall between the three strangers — four? where had that halfling come from, the one who was steadying the drow? — and the Riders. "Unless, Saer Rider, you are willing to start a trade war, here and now."
"This will not be the last of it!"
"Please do send word to my aunt, Lady Silverhand, with all that happened today." Kolarven's invitation was icy, stressing the word 'all', even as they made certain to make a point of getting the travelers' version… even if it meant speaking with a drow. They very, very rarely leaned into the kinship, fully honorary but chosen, between themself and the lady they served.
This idiot had needed it, from the chalky look the idiot got.
To the travelers' credit, they stayed behind the equine shield, though on high alert for treachery, if the hands on hilts of hammer, axe, and swords were anything to go by.
It took some time, but eventually the Riders were on their way, riding as swiftly as the now double-burdened mounts could manage.
"I apologize for this incident," the drow offered once the Riders were gone.
"Bah, shove it, me elf. My boy says ye saved the one's life and were attacked for it; they got what they deserved."
"But these goodly people should not have had to intervene," the drow said mildly. "Saers, as we are no longer able to seek refuge in Nesme for a night to rest, we do ask if we can walk alongside your party until we are past it."
"We lost our mounts in the storms," the halfling said quickly. "And we hate to slow your party down, but we also do not want a fight with them."
"Here, lad," Ruggero said with a smile to the other halfling. "You can ride with me, and if the dwarf will ride with my servant Derevo, I think your longer-legged friends can keep pace with the walk of the horses."
"We do not know your names, nor have we given ours," the barbarian said, showing, yet again to Kolarven's happy surprise, that he was a man of manners.
"Pardon," Kolarven told him. "The Bard Ruggero, his servant Derevo, his bodyguard Kali. Our wizard is Talaris, my fellow Knight is Mikhail, and I am Kolarven."
"I'm Regis, this is Drizzt, that is Wulfgar, and he's Bruenor," the halfling said quickly, making Kolarven wonder if he was forestalling longer, more complete introductions on purpose.
"Come. They've had enough time to get ahead," Kolarven said, prompting Bruenor and Regis to go to the mounts indicated. And, as Ruggero had predicted, neither the drow — that looked like customary ranger garb — nor the barbarian had trouble keeping up at all.
With several rests through the day, they still had not actually cleared Nesme, and Kolarven called a halt in the last protected spot they could think of to keep from crossing Nesme's outer traffic by night. Twice, the drow had cast darkness to the side of the trace that face the Evermoors, confounding some of the smaller creatures that haunted the edges, seeking unwary victims.
It was… startling, both in the actions themselves, and to see a non-aggressive stance being taken by a drow. Kolarven knew of goodly drow, but all the tales they knew spoke of keeping hidden, and marks of the sword or moon in their clothing. While this one wore two curving blades of equal length, he looked — once you got past hair and skin — like most any scout or ranger of the area. A couple of times, as the drow unconsciously took point on the trace they followed, Kolarven could have sworn the darker threads in the green cloak depicted a unicorn, but dismissed it as fanciful notions wrought by being a citizen of Silverymoon.
"Now that we have a bit of time," Ruggero began, as bellies were being filled, "we should have your side of the tale, travelers. Tomorrow we will cross the frontage of Nesme, home to the Riders we parted from hostility with you."
"Aye, as they may yet try tae pick a fight again," the dwarf, Bruenor, answered, and Kolarven focused on him first. "Me boy there with his long legs ran on ahead as we heard the fighting. Rumblebelly — Regis, that is — followed the three of us. I'd made the fight ahead o' me elf, because he's not one for rushing in."
The strangled noise from Wulfgar suggested otherwise, and Kolarven saw a smirk under the purple eyes of the drow.
"We only gave aid, as our natures demand of us," Wulfgar picked up. "But my teacher," and he nodded to Drizzt, "had given that aid, and been laid out from dodging the axe of the one he protected from being pulped by the wooden creatures. I did throw the horse down, and injure the man, I will acknowledge, but my loyalty to my friends comes ahead of much, and I cannot abide the cowardice of a strike against one who aided!"
"Not a one of them moved to help any of their fellows," Regis said. "They were all just yelling at Drizzt, and us, because no one will look past his skin!"
"I gave fair warning that was how it would be," Drizzt said quietly. "Seven years I wandered below the Spine. Seven years of finding nowhere to let me remain. Often violently reinforcing that point."
"How came you by DeBrouchee's Bow?" Ruggero asked, and all of Silverymoon's people saw the drow startle and sit up straighter against his tree.
"You know his mark?"
"An owl, as was his Companion. The tale of he and his friends against the red was still fresh when I started learning my trade so long ago."
Drizzt dropped his face to hide it, but Kolarven did not feel there was deceit in the motion. The body language spoke of an emotional struggle.
"Montolio DeBrouchee took me in, my second spring above, and he trained me until just past the midwinter that same year, exacting a promise that I would not remain in his glade once he had passed. That I travel, and seek a place to belong." Drizzt looked at each of his three friends. "I have learned that such a home is less a place, and more connections with others.
"He died, and by his own wishes, I took his bow, his quiver, and his cloak. All of them have seen me through adventures, and preserved my life nearly as much as my blades have."
"Saer Kolarven, if the Riders do attempt to initiate hostilities again," Ruggero called, "remind them that starting fights with the favored of Mielikki in this region is even more of an offense than merely upsetting trade with our city."
Kolarven let their eyes wonder in amazement at that. "I do not know the ranger you speak of, though I am certain my cousin Tarthilmor can fill me in, as you mentioned a dragon." All of them had a slight laugh for that before they continued. "But I welcome that advice. Is She your patron, or merely that of your teacher?"
They directed the question back to Drizzt, certain that something was amiss in all of this compared to tales of the goodly drow, but uncertain why.
"She had seen fit to guide me, given I am inclined to tolerate very little in the way of spoiling the wilds," Drizzt agreed. "In the north, I was more apt to claim Gwaeron Windstrom due to their peculiar associations with masculine prominence, but Mielikki is the true patron."
"Well, all of that will be helpful, if there are idiots tomorrow," Kolarven said in a cheerful tone.
"Now that we have a bit more of the ranger there, who would care to put forth their own character references now?" Ruggero invited with a smile. "It's not every day that I have the luck of seeing a walking tavern tale."
Wulfgar looked puzzled, but Regis started giggling. "A dwarf, a barbarian, and a halfling walk into a tavern with a drow — oh that is funny when you point at it!"
Seeing his small friend be so amused put the barbarian more at ease, and then he did smile. "I am the latest to this assortment, so I shall answer first. I am Wulfgar son of Beornegar, once of the Tribe of Elk, now of the combined tribes of those that hunt along the Reghed Glacier.
"Several years past, when I was barely more than a boy — "
"Ye were one still," Bruenor interjected.
" — the tribes massed and attacked Ten Towns," Wulfgar continued, having paused just long enough to let Bruenor be heard. "I survived, because Bruenor took compassion on me, and indentured me after the fighting, rather than allow me to be killed by my people or the Towns' folk. When my service was almost done, he introduced me to Drizzt as my new teacher."
"Somewhat reluctantly on both sides of that introduction," Drizzt admitted. "But yes, and you have made much of what I shared with you."
"Ye both needed it," Bruenor growled, blustery in tone, but affection for the two men still evident to those who knew dwarves.
"And you, my very distant cousin?" Ruggero asked of Regis, even as the darker halfling squirmed a little.
"We're not all really related," Regis told Wulfgar before he could worry himself over that, "but it is a matter of courtesy, when halflings meet away from halfling places.
"Not much to say of me; I was a Spokesman for a time, but now I am just trying to help my friends."
Something in how the other three appraised Regis left Kolarven certain that there was far more at stake there.
"Which leaves me," Bruenor said after a long moment. "Me boy agreed tae help me quest openly, and while I did trick me elf into giving his word for it at long last, needed doing. Staying up there wasn't going tae be a good thing as tempers run hot in the re-building." He studied the pair of knights, the wizard, then the bard and his two people. "Me name is Bruenor Battlehammer, chieftain tae what remains of Clan Battlehammer and I be seeking me long-lost Hall."
There was a long silence with just the faint crackle of the carefully banked fire.
"The name is known, but the where is not," Ruggero told the dwarf. "Seek the clan Rockcrusher, once you reach Silverymoon, and employ them to help scour the histories within the Vault of the Sages, perhaps… they are a clan given to academic matters.
"But, in all honesty, you would be better suited to breaking from the road to our city after High Hold, and turning toward the forest, to seek the Herald's Holdfast. If the current Herald can be moved by your tale, he could grant access to the Hall of the Dwarves, where all knowledge that is known of your people would be found."
"Elf?" Bruenor called, getting a contemplative look.
"If this place is before the city, better to do as advised, and only seek Silverymoon if the Holdfast cannot provide," Drizzt finally answered. "Or else, we might find ourselves needlessly backtracking, and we have already lost many days on the road, if we are to be able to return north with the news before the winter storms begin."
"Winter is some time away," Mikhail pointed out.
"Yes, for this region. It will only barely be mid-autumn for you before those passes are closed to all travelers. Once we find our clue where to look, we will have to explore. This is why I am counseling as I do," Drizzt said.
"Ahh, I do forget the further north you go, the quicker winter brings her grip to bear," Mikhail told him.
"Now that we know more, so that we can stand surety tomorrow — if needed — I suggest we all sleep, and begin on the road at first light," Kolarven said.
"Agreed," came from Bruenor, while Ruggero nodded to the necessity.
Passing Nesme happened without incident.
Kolarven had reason to wish they had been detained there instead of this fight that had found them.
A wizard, two fighters, and a flesh-construct with a woman the dwarf's party knew was bad enough. But one fighter — the Calimshite, if Kolarven was placing coloring and clothing correctly — had taken down Mikhail by killing his horse under him almost before any of them had known there was a threat so close.
"Protect your bard!" Bruenor yelled, even as he and Wulfgar teamed with attacks on the rest of the party. Talaris had a wall of force up to try and hold the construct back long enough to use his sending stone. Kali was guarding Ruggero and Derevo, her massive axe more than enough threat that the Luskan fighter could not close in.
And the ranger! Kolarven could only hope to be that fine-skilled some day! The drow, almost before Mikhail's horse hit the ground, had leaped over to defend the knight. Blades flashed with speed the likes of which Kolarven had never seen in their life!
Despite only just being freed of the odd party, the woman that had cried their only warning was taking up the ranger's discarded bow and quiver, aiming for the fighter and wizard pair. The arrow meant for the wizard went astray — magical protection no doubt — but the fighter fell to one in his eye.
That was about the moment that Talaris got his sending out, and Kolarven tightened up the defense with him and Kali so that Ruggero would be unharmed. Regis, who had gone shockingly pale on seeing the attackers, had fallen back to them, but had his mace in hand, ready in case anything made it through.
Time after time, Wulfgar's mighty hammer flew high and accurate into the construct, as the wall of force was set just off from where Wulfgar had been walking. The construct was not coming to where the wall ended, and just kept shuddering and taking damage, as it was intent on getting to the ranger, it seemed.
"Me ranger! He killed clan!" the bow-using woman shouted across the battlefield. Kolarven spared a glance that way, having realized the attackers only wanted the dwarf's party. What they saw raised the ancestral fear of drow all over again, as the fight went from a near stalemate to something far more favoring the ranger.
Kolarven didn't get to see more of it, as the air-displacing pop of a mass-teleport happened, and two more Spellguards brought their magic to bear on the construct, allowing Talaris to breathe and ready a better spell for ensnaring the wizard controlling the construct. He didn't get the chance, as the dwarf got to her first, following behind a volley of more deflected arrows.
The Knights in Silver that had also come to aid were circling to get to Mikhail, as the ranger had pushed the fight away from the downed man and horse. Kolarven looked that way just in time to see the Calimshite run into the invisible wall of force. Both drow and human were bleeding, but more on the human's side, and that sudden obstacle was just enough break in concentration for the ranger to land a killing thrust.
Like a wounded boar, the Calimshite tried to fight his way up the blade to hit the ranger with his knife, but the drow was too canny, twisting his body, and the blade, just right to finish the kill.
Two disintegratespells landed almost simultaneously on the construct, removing first one section and then enough of the rest to end that fight.
The ranger hadn't moved, and the woman hastened to his side, though she did not yet touch him. Kolarven looked to see who had come to their aid, even as they hurried to call out for everyone to look outwards, just in case of reinforcements, making their way to Mikhail.
"I'm not finishing this trip," the human knight said ruefully, while the pair helping him tried to determine how bad the leg was.
"What happened?" Jastinathiel asked her former squire as Kolarven reached them.
"We'd taken company with a party of travelers," Kolarven began. "The ones that are dead attacked without warning as we came past that last copse of trees. The Luskans were holding the young woman by the ranger captive; she cried warning, but nothing could have been fast enough against the Calimshite.
"The dwarf is the leader of the travelers we aided, and he told us to defend Ruggero and ourselves, which is what we mostly fell back to."
"Couldn't let that thing trample in," Talaris said as he made it to them, shaking his head. "It happened so damned fast."
"Something like that on the roads we use needed dealt with," Jasti reassured them both. "Alright, we'll take Mikhail on; any other injured?"
Kolarven looked to the ranger first, seeing that Drizzt had knelt, the young woman with a hand on his shoulder now. They swept their gaze over dwarf and barbarian, then back to the pair of halflings with servant and bodyguard both watching so keenly.
"Something tells me the ranger will refuse aid," Kolarven said, even as they realized the knights and Spellguards were only just realizing a drow was present. "So, no, unless someone has a potion I can try and convince him to use?"
"Aiding a drow?" Jasti asked, eyes wide.
"Of Mielikki," Kolarven pressed.
"Now I've heard everything."
"Oh, wait until we get to the city," Mikhail said with thin lips from the pain, but amused nonetheless.
"If you're here, you only have Rivermoot and High Hold left?" Jasti asked.
"Yes. Take Mikhail, give me a potion. Talaris and I will see this through, since neither you or Crispen are mounted."
"How about you put your people to camp for the day," Jasti suggested, "and one of us will return with a horse to finish the route?"
"We could do that," Kolarven agreed, now that she had settled from the instant suspicion of the drow.
"Then we will."
Kolarven took the time, as the group came to the best point to part ways, to go stand in front of the party of five.
"If the Herald cannot aid, come to us in Silverymoon," they told Bruenor seriously. "I swear by my sword that the lady of the city will do all she can to see Clan Battlehammer restored to their Hall, wherever it may be." Kolarven then looked up at Wulfgar and grinned. "You, and Regis there, I will take drinking! You deserve to see the best of our taverns!"
"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Regis said with a giggle, having recovered from his guilt under Catti-brie's serious counseling.
"Until we meet again," Catti-brie said for them all, but Kolarven shook their head, and held his hand, palm open, out to their ranger.
Startled, Drizzt reached, and was soon clasping wrists with Kolarven as the half-elf made a solid show of support.
"Whenever you draw your blades, saer, I have faith that Mielikki does guide them, and hope to see you in the Glade someday soon," Kolarven told him.
"Saer, you and your friends have convinced me that one day, I shall be there," Drizzt promised, before letting go.
The party from Silverymoon waited for the group on foot to clear the road fully, not wishing to stir the dust as they moved on. Once they were a good distance from the road, Kolarven led the way forward, intent on finishing the diplomatic mission, and their head full of the lessons learned in the last days' adventure.
Kolarven was glad of the fine brandy that Alustriel had set out for them. It really helped them endure the scowl from their uncle, even as the lady herself was looking more than slightly impressed — and intrigued.
"Old Knight has not reached out to me," she finally said, "so perhaps he was able to aid them fully. We will, of course, instruct any patrols in that direction to keep an eye for a need to aid them?"
Those words were leveled at Korvallen, who sighed and gave a curt nod.
"Do you mind passing on to my cousin in the dreadful deserts the name of the assassin?" Kolarven asked their aunt by family vows.
"And to Laeral," Alustriel promised. "As Waterdeep has known troubles from Calimshan, and he may have been wanted there."
"My thanks," Kolarven said with a smile. "Mikhail has apparently been talking the city's ears off about the strangers, so I expect I have a few drinks to go collect," they said in a jaunty cheer, finishing off the brandy and rising.
"Glad you came to no harm, nibling," Korvallen told him, but looked set to stay put. Korvallen nodded, heading out and only caught a brief snippet of Korvallen's temper before the door shut.
"Not all drow are that way," Kolarven muttered as they headed down from the Lady's Tower, to go visit all of their friends they could find.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden vs Artemis Entreri
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Wulfgar son of Beornegar, Regis [The Legend of Drizzt Series], Original Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, point of break is streams of silver, Ensemble Cast, Minor Character Death, Canon Typical Violence
Summary:
Kolarven, chosen by Alustriel to lead a diplomatic visitation, comes upon a battle on the edge of the Evermoors.
A Diversion from the Trollmoors
When Kolarven had agreed that they were possibly the best suited Knight in Silver to handle a diplomatic mission around the edge of the Silver Marches, they had hand-picked their group. Talaris was the only Spellguard they wanted for such a long journey, and having an older, decorated Knight like Mikhail was a good choice. With both Knights between squires at the moment, they looked a bit less like an armed war party. Bard Ruggero traveled with only one servant and one bodyguard, and all three had proven proficient in their horsemanship.
That Talaris could, and would, call for further aid if warranted made the small party work for quicker travel on the circuit that began in Everlund and circled so far south and west as Triboar and Yartar before looping back around and up through Nesme. Kolarven's instincts had proven correct, as the armor on both the Knights and their horses had done much to dissuade brigands from attacking six mounted beings.
Privately, Kolarven was all but certain Ruggero's bodyguard, a woman of almost six and a half feet in height had likely given as much pause as the armor visible. Now that they were on the Surbrin Trace between Mornbryn's Shield and Nesme, Kolarven was grateful to have her intimidating stature and axe, for they had to pass through lands far too close to the Evermoors for comfort.
Leryth, Kolarven's gelding, and Jemson, Mikhail's fine stud, both swiveled their ears forward at about the same time Ruggero's mare gave a nervous prance. Kolarven and Talaris listened with all they were and picked up the sound of battle ahead, pricking at their conscience. They had a diplomat and non-combatant to protect, but they also had sworn vows to aid all in need within the Silver Marches.
"Do I hear a martial strain ahead, good saers?" Ruggero asked, cheerful enough. "Let us hasten, and be of aid, if possible."
"If you are certain," Kolarven said, while Mikhail was focusing enough with his human ears to be more aware of it.
"I will, as agreed upon, remain back with Derevo, and Kali will aid with you," Ruggero said.
"I have defensive spells ready to place around you," Talaris agreed to that, and then the party, as one, picked up speed on the trace. The clash of blades all but came to a stop before the party could see the battle sight, but words carried in harsh voices.
"Foul company you keep, dwarf!"
"Your friend would be dead if it were not for that foul company! And he repays the drow with a blade!"
Drow.
Kolarven's shoulders rolled a bit even as they eased off the speed, coming into full view of the splintered bog blokes, dead or dying Riders and mounts, as well as five still upon their horses, facing a barbarian standing protectively over a downed — yes, that white hair indicated a drow — fighter while a dwarf in a dented, one-horned helmet shook his own axe menacingly at the men of Nesme.
"Hold your violence, both sides of this," Kolarven said, actually leaning into both their station as a Knight-Sergeant and their elven presence. "I see by the evidence that the inhabitants of the Moors spilled onto the trace, but what is this that Nesme threatens travelers that joined battle, by yon tribesman's word?"
"It is none of your concern," the lead rider spit, worked up into a fettle by the mere presence of a drow apparently, and neglecting his downed men. Kolarven raked a glance over the man, trying to place the flat small features of this human against Riders he knew of.
"Saer, you, and they, are currently impeding a diplomatic party of Silverymoon," Talaris called, trying to defuse this, and to ignore a drow that was not yet dead. "Pray put aside your violence and see to your men. We will wait, and keep an eye on the strangers."
"This isn't Silverymoon, nor nearer to her borders than ours!" the enraged man shot back. "There's a murderous drow right there, and we'll not let him pass!"
"We wish only to go our own way," said drow called back in a quiet, but carrying tone.
"Aye, as all we heard of Nesme seems to be lies among cowards after all!" the dwarf snapped.
Kolarven spared a moment to hope for patience in someone present, before leveling their gaze at the dwarf. "Diplomacy," they stressed, "is needed in the moment."
Mikhail cleared his throat to cut the dwarf's temperamental rebuttal off. "Saers, the Riders are charged to keep the Evermoors' inhabitants across the river. I suggest listening to the Knight-Sergeant's advice, and not aggravate this when there are men down, possibly dying."
"Already dead," one of the riders called, sparing a glance at the nearest body.
"Not the one who attacked my friend, though he might wish it," the barbarian said. "These new men speak truth, Riders. Gather up your dead and wounded, and leave us in peace."
"I won't let a lying, sorcerous dog of a drow — "
"Silence!" Kolarven shouted, cutting across all further words and the readying for further fighting. "I will personally escort them past your lands, if that is the direction they mean to go. Unless, Saer Rider, you wish to offend a diplomat charged by Lady Silverhand herself, and provoke our city?"
"Her reach is not so far!"
"Linder!" one of the other hissed.
"The good Knight speaks true," Ruggero said, "for your city calls upon ours for magical aid to beat back the Evermoors quite regularly. Do you wish to increase your duty so much? Are you so heartless as to ignore the suffering of your men who yet breathe in such pain as their injuries must provoke?"
"It is a drow!"
Kolarven shifted their weight, and Leryth shifted with it, making a better show of the muscle that the horse had to carry a Knight so well. "I will never understand how you humans manage to live with such fear knotted in your bellies around enemies that were never yours, that have inflicted maybe a tiny fraction of the indignities my own have seen!"
For the moment, they threw all of their human heritage aside, because this was beyond ridiculous.
"Pick. Up. Your. Men." Kolarven gestured, and Mikhail pushed forward, followed by Talaris, creating an equine wall between the three strangers — four? where had that halfling come from, the one who was steadying the drow? — and the Riders. "Unless, Saer Rider, you are willing to start a trade war, here and now."
"This will not be the last of it!"
"Please do send word to my aunt, Lady Silverhand, with all that happened today." Kolarven's invitation was icy, stressing the word 'all', even as they made certain to make a point of getting the travelers' version… even if it meant speaking with a drow. They very, very rarely leaned into the kinship, fully honorary but chosen, between themself and the lady they served.
This idiot had needed it, from the chalky look the idiot got.
To the travelers' credit, they stayed behind the equine shield, though on high alert for treachery, if the hands on hilts of hammer, axe, and swords were anything to go by.
It took some time, but eventually the Riders were on their way, riding as swiftly as the now double-burdened mounts could manage.
"I apologize for this incident," the drow offered once the Riders were gone.
"Bah, shove it, me elf. My boy says ye saved the one's life and were attacked for it; they got what they deserved."
"But these goodly people should not have had to intervene," the drow said mildly. "Saers, as we are no longer able to seek refuge in Nesme for a night to rest, we do ask if we can walk alongside your party until we are past it."
"We lost our mounts in the storms," the halfling said quickly. "And we hate to slow your party down, but we also do not want a fight with them."
"Here, lad," Ruggero said with a smile to the other halfling. "You can ride with me, and if the dwarf will ride with my servant Derevo, I think your longer-legged friends can keep pace with the walk of the horses."
"We do not know your names, nor have we given ours," the barbarian said, showing, yet again to Kolarven's happy surprise, that he was a man of manners.
"Pardon," Kolarven told him. "The Bard Ruggero, his servant Derevo, his bodyguard Kali. Our wizard is Talaris, my fellow Knight is Mikhail, and I am Kolarven."
"I'm Regis, this is Drizzt, that is Wulfgar, and he's Bruenor," the halfling said quickly, making Kolarven wonder if he was forestalling longer, more complete introductions on purpose.
"Come. They've had enough time to get ahead," Kolarven said, prompting Bruenor and Regis to go to the mounts indicated. And, as Ruggero had predicted, neither the drow — that looked like customary ranger garb — nor the barbarian had trouble keeping up at all.
With several rests through the day, they still had not actually cleared Nesme, and Kolarven called a halt in the last protected spot they could think of to keep from crossing Nesme's outer traffic by night. Twice, the drow had cast darkness to the side of the trace that face the Evermoors, confounding some of the smaller creatures that haunted the edges, seeking unwary victims.
It was… startling, both in the actions themselves, and to see a non-aggressive stance being taken by a drow. Kolarven knew of goodly drow, but all the tales they knew spoke of keeping hidden, and marks of the sword or moon in their clothing. While this one wore two curving blades of equal length, he looked — once you got past hair and skin — like most any scout or ranger of the area. A couple of times, as the drow unconsciously took point on the trace they followed, Kolarven could have sworn the darker threads in the green cloak depicted a unicorn, but dismissed it as fanciful notions wrought by being a citizen of Silverymoon.
"Now that we have a bit of time," Ruggero began, as bellies were being filled, "we should have your side of the tale, travelers. Tomorrow we will cross the frontage of Nesme, home to the Riders we parted from hostility with you."
"Aye, as they may yet try tae pick a fight again," the dwarf, Bruenor, answered, and Kolarven focused on him first. "Me boy there with his long legs ran on ahead as we heard the fighting. Rumblebelly — Regis, that is — followed the three of us. I'd made the fight ahead o' me elf, because he's not one for rushing in."
The strangled noise from Wulfgar suggested otherwise, and Kolarven saw a smirk under the purple eyes of the drow.
"We only gave aid, as our natures demand of us," Wulfgar picked up. "But my teacher," and he nodded to Drizzt, "had given that aid, and been laid out from dodging the axe of the one he protected from being pulped by the wooden creatures. I did throw the horse down, and injure the man, I will acknowledge, but my loyalty to my friends comes ahead of much, and I cannot abide the cowardice of a strike against one who aided!"
"Not a one of them moved to help any of their fellows," Regis said. "They were all just yelling at Drizzt, and us, because no one will look past his skin!"
"I gave fair warning that was how it would be," Drizzt said quietly. "Seven years I wandered below the Spine. Seven years of finding nowhere to let me remain. Often violently reinforcing that point."
"How came you by DeBrouchee's Bow?" Ruggero asked, and all of Silverymoon's people saw the drow startle and sit up straighter against his tree.
"You know his mark?"
"An owl, as was his Companion. The tale of he and his friends against the red was still fresh when I started learning my trade so long ago."
Drizzt dropped his face to hide it, but Kolarven did not feel there was deceit in the motion. The body language spoke of an emotional struggle.
"Montolio DeBrouchee took me in, my second spring above, and he trained me until just past the midwinter that same year, exacting a promise that I would not remain in his glade once he had passed. That I travel, and seek a place to belong." Drizzt looked at each of his three friends. "I have learned that such a home is less a place, and more connections with others.
"He died, and by his own wishes, I took his bow, his quiver, and his cloak. All of them have seen me through adventures, and preserved my life nearly as much as my blades have."
"Saer Kolarven, if the Riders do attempt to initiate hostilities again," Ruggero called, "remind them that starting fights with the favored of Mielikki in this region is even more of an offense than merely upsetting trade with our city."
Kolarven let their eyes wonder in amazement at that. "I do not know the ranger you speak of, though I am certain my cousin Tarthilmor can fill me in, as you mentioned a dragon." All of them had a slight laugh for that before they continued. "But I welcome that advice. Is She your patron, or merely that of your teacher?"
They directed the question back to Drizzt, certain that something was amiss in all of this compared to tales of the goodly drow, but uncertain why.
"She had seen fit to guide me, given I am inclined to tolerate very little in the way of spoiling the wilds," Drizzt agreed. "In the north, I was more apt to claim Gwaeron Windstrom due to their peculiar associations with masculine prominence, but Mielikki is the true patron."
"Well, all of that will be helpful, if there are idiots tomorrow," Kolarven said in a cheerful tone.
"Now that we have a bit more of the ranger there, who would care to put forth their own character references now?" Ruggero invited with a smile. "It's not every day that I have the luck of seeing a walking tavern tale."
Wulfgar looked puzzled, but Regis started giggling. "A dwarf, a barbarian, and a halfling walk into a tavern with a drow — oh that is funny when you point at it!"
Seeing his small friend be so amused put the barbarian more at ease, and then he did smile. "I am the latest to this assortment, so I shall answer first. I am Wulfgar son of Beornegar, once of the Tribe of Elk, now of the combined tribes of those that hunt along the Reghed Glacier.
"Several years past, when I was barely more than a boy — "
"Ye were one still," Bruenor interjected.
" — the tribes massed and attacked Ten Towns," Wulfgar continued, having paused just long enough to let Bruenor be heard. "I survived, because Bruenor took compassion on me, and indentured me after the fighting, rather than allow me to be killed by my people or the Towns' folk. When my service was almost done, he introduced me to Drizzt as my new teacher."
"Somewhat reluctantly on both sides of that introduction," Drizzt admitted. "But yes, and you have made much of what I shared with you."
"Ye both needed it," Bruenor growled, blustery in tone, but affection for the two men still evident to those who knew dwarves.
"And you, my very distant cousin?" Ruggero asked of Regis, even as the darker halfling squirmed a little.
"We're not all really related," Regis told Wulfgar before he could worry himself over that, "but it is a matter of courtesy, when halflings meet away from halfling places.
"Not much to say of me; I was a Spokesman for a time, but now I am just trying to help my friends."
Something in how the other three appraised Regis left Kolarven certain that there was far more at stake there.
"Which leaves me," Bruenor said after a long moment. "Me boy agreed tae help me quest openly, and while I did trick me elf into giving his word for it at long last, needed doing. Staying up there wasn't going tae be a good thing as tempers run hot in the re-building." He studied the pair of knights, the wizard, then the bard and his two people. "Me name is Bruenor Battlehammer, chieftain tae what remains of Clan Battlehammer and I be seeking me long-lost Hall."
There was a long silence with just the faint crackle of the carefully banked fire.
"The name is known, but the where is not," Ruggero told the dwarf. "Seek the clan Rockcrusher, once you reach Silverymoon, and employ them to help scour the histories within the Vault of the Sages, perhaps… they are a clan given to academic matters.
"But, in all honesty, you would be better suited to breaking from the road to our city after High Hold, and turning toward the forest, to seek the Herald's Holdfast. If the current Herald can be moved by your tale, he could grant access to the Hall of the Dwarves, where all knowledge that is known of your people would be found."
"Elf?" Bruenor called, getting a contemplative look.
"If this place is before the city, better to do as advised, and only seek Silverymoon if the Holdfast cannot provide," Drizzt finally answered. "Or else, we might find ourselves needlessly backtracking, and we have already lost many days on the road, if we are to be able to return north with the news before the winter storms begin."
"Winter is some time away," Mikhail pointed out.
"Yes, for this region. It will only barely be mid-autumn for you before those passes are closed to all travelers. Once we find our clue where to look, we will have to explore. This is why I am counseling as I do," Drizzt said.
"Ahh, I do forget the further north you go, the quicker winter brings her grip to bear," Mikhail told him.
"Now that we know more, so that we can stand surety tomorrow — if needed — I suggest we all sleep, and begin on the road at first light," Kolarven said.
"Agreed," came from Bruenor, while Ruggero nodded to the necessity.
Passing Nesme happened without incident.
Kolarven had reason to wish they had been detained there instead of this fight that had found them.
A wizard, two fighters, and a flesh-construct with a woman the dwarf's party knew was bad enough. But one fighter — the Calimshite, if Kolarven was placing coloring and clothing correctly — had taken down Mikhail by killing his horse under him almost before any of them had known there was a threat so close.
"Protect your bard!" Bruenor yelled, even as he and Wulfgar teamed with attacks on the rest of the party. Talaris had a wall of force up to try and hold the construct back long enough to use his sending stone. Kali was guarding Ruggero and Derevo, her massive axe more than enough threat that the Luskan fighter could not close in.
And the ranger! Kolarven could only hope to be that fine-skilled some day! The drow, almost before Mikhail's horse hit the ground, had leaped over to defend the knight. Blades flashed with speed the likes of which Kolarven had never seen in their life!
Despite only just being freed of the odd party, the woman that had cried their only warning was taking up the ranger's discarded bow and quiver, aiming for the fighter and wizard pair. The arrow meant for the wizard went astray — magical protection no doubt — but the fighter fell to one in his eye.
That was about the moment that Talaris got his sending out, and Kolarven tightened up the defense with him and Kali so that Ruggero would be unharmed. Regis, who had gone shockingly pale on seeing the attackers, had fallen back to them, but had his mace in hand, ready in case anything made it through.
Time after time, Wulfgar's mighty hammer flew high and accurate into the construct, as the wall of force was set just off from where Wulfgar had been walking. The construct was not coming to where the wall ended, and just kept shuddering and taking damage, as it was intent on getting to the ranger, it seemed.
"Me ranger! He killed clan!" the bow-using woman shouted across the battlefield. Kolarven spared a glance that way, having realized the attackers only wanted the dwarf's party. What they saw raised the ancestral fear of drow all over again, as the fight went from a near stalemate to something far more favoring the ranger.
Kolarven didn't get to see more of it, as the air-displacing pop of a mass-teleport happened, and two more Spellguards brought their magic to bear on the construct, allowing Talaris to breathe and ready a better spell for ensnaring the wizard controlling the construct. He didn't get the chance, as the dwarf got to her first, following behind a volley of more deflected arrows.
The Knights in Silver that had also come to aid were circling to get to Mikhail, as the ranger had pushed the fight away from the downed man and horse. Kolarven looked that way just in time to see the Calimshite run into the invisible wall of force. Both drow and human were bleeding, but more on the human's side, and that sudden obstacle was just enough break in concentration for the ranger to land a killing thrust.
Like a wounded boar, the Calimshite tried to fight his way up the blade to hit the ranger with his knife, but the drow was too canny, twisting his body, and the blade, just right to finish the kill.
Two disintegratespells landed almost simultaneously on the construct, removing first one section and then enough of the rest to end that fight.
The ranger hadn't moved, and the woman hastened to his side, though she did not yet touch him. Kolarven looked to see who had come to their aid, even as they hurried to call out for everyone to look outwards, just in case of reinforcements, making their way to Mikhail.
"I'm not finishing this trip," the human knight said ruefully, while the pair helping him tried to determine how bad the leg was.
"What happened?" Jastinathiel asked her former squire as Kolarven reached them.
"We'd taken company with a party of travelers," Kolarven began. "The ones that are dead attacked without warning as we came past that last copse of trees. The Luskans were holding the young woman by the ranger captive; she cried warning, but nothing could have been fast enough against the Calimshite.
"The dwarf is the leader of the travelers we aided, and he told us to defend Ruggero and ourselves, which is what we mostly fell back to."
"Couldn't let that thing trample in," Talaris said as he made it to them, shaking his head. "It happened so damned fast."
"Something like that on the roads we use needed dealt with," Jasti reassured them both. "Alright, we'll take Mikhail on; any other injured?"
Kolarven looked to the ranger first, seeing that Drizzt had knelt, the young woman with a hand on his shoulder now. They swept their gaze over dwarf and barbarian, then back to the pair of halflings with servant and bodyguard both watching so keenly.
"Something tells me the ranger will refuse aid," Kolarven said, even as they realized the knights and Spellguards were only just realizing a drow was present. "So, no, unless someone has a potion I can try and convince him to use?"
"Aiding a drow?" Jasti asked, eyes wide.
"Of Mielikki," Kolarven pressed.
"Now I've heard everything."
"Oh, wait until we get to the city," Mikhail said with thin lips from the pain, but amused nonetheless.
"If you're here, you only have Rivermoot and High Hold left?" Jasti asked.
"Yes. Take Mikhail, give me a potion. Talaris and I will see this through, since neither you or Crispen are mounted."
"How about you put your people to camp for the day," Jasti suggested, "and one of us will return with a horse to finish the route?"
"We could do that," Kolarven agreed, now that she had settled from the instant suspicion of the drow.
"Then we will."
Kolarven took the time, as the group came to the best point to part ways, to go stand in front of the party of five.
"If the Herald cannot aid, come to us in Silverymoon," they told Bruenor seriously. "I swear by my sword that the lady of the city will do all she can to see Clan Battlehammer restored to their Hall, wherever it may be." Kolarven then looked up at Wulfgar and grinned. "You, and Regis there, I will take drinking! You deserve to see the best of our taverns!"
"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Regis said with a giggle, having recovered from his guilt under Catti-brie's serious counseling.
"Until we meet again," Catti-brie said for them all, but Kolarven shook their head, and held his hand, palm open, out to their ranger.
Startled, Drizzt reached, and was soon clasping wrists with Kolarven as the half-elf made a solid show of support.
"Whenever you draw your blades, saer, I have faith that Mielikki does guide them, and hope to see you in the Glade someday soon," Kolarven told him.
"Saer, you and your friends have convinced me that one day, I shall be there," Drizzt promised, before letting go.
The party from Silverymoon waited for the group on foot to clear the road fully, not wishing to stir the dust as they moved on. Once they were a good distance from the road, Kolarven led the way forward, intent on finishing the diplomatic mission, and their head full of the lessons learned in the last days' adventure.
Kolarven was glad of the fine brandy that Alustriel had set out for them. It really helped them endure the scowl from their uncle, even as the lady herself was looking more than slightly impressed — and intrigued.
"Old Knight has not reached out to me," she finally said, "so perhaps he was able to aid them fully. We will, of course, instruct any patrols in that direction to keep an eye for a need to aid them?"
Those words were leveled at Korvallen, who sighed and gave a curt nod.
"Do you mind passing on to my cousin in the dreadful deserts the name of the assassin?" Kolarven asked their aunt by family vows.
"And to Laeral," Alustriel promised. "As Waterdeep has known troubles from Calimshan, and he may have been wanted there."
"My thanks," Kolarven said with a smile. "Mikhail has apparently been talking the city's ears off about the strangers, so I expect I have a few drinks to go collect," they said in a jaunty cheer, finishing off the brandy and rising.
"Glad you came to no harm, nibling," Korvallen told him, but looked set to stay put. Korvallen nodded, heading out and only caught a brief snippet of Korvallen's temper before the door shut.
"Not all drow are that way," Kolarven muttered as they headed down from the Lady's Tower, to go visit all of their friends they could find.
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