Berkthgar looked to Catti-brie, and she wouldn't blink.
"I will not carry Aegis-fang," the barbarian leader announced.
Moans and hoots erupted, as did speculation about who won the "contest.»
Berkthgar blushed, and Drizzt feared there would be trouble.
Catti-brie went up on the table. "Not a better man in Settle-stone!" she insisted.
Several barbarians rushed forward to the table's edge, willing to take up that challenge.
"Not a better man!" Catti-brie growled at them, her fury driving them back.
"I'll not carry the warhammer, in honor of Wulfgar," Berkthgar explained. "And for the honor of Catti-brie.»
Blank stares came back at him.
"If I am to properly suit the daughter of King Bruenor, our friend and ally," the barbarian leader went on, and Drizzt smiled at that reference, "then it is my own weapon, Bankenfuere, that must become legend." He held high the huge flamberge, and the crowd roared with glee.
The issue was ended, the alliance sealed, and more mead was passed about before Catti-brie even got down from the table, heading for Drizzt. She stopped as she walked beside the barbar-
ian leader, and gave him a sly look.
"If ye ever openly lie," she whispered, taking care that no one could hear, "or if ye ever even hint that ye bedded me, then be knowin' that I'll come back and cut ye down in front o' all yer people.»
Berkthgar's expression grew somber at that, and even more somber as he turned to watch Catti-brie depart, to see her deadly drow friend standing easily, hands on scimitar hilts, his lavender eyes telling the barbarian in no uncertain terms his feelings for Catti-brie. Berkthgar didn't want to tangle with Catti-brie again, but he would rather battle her a hundred times than fight the drow ranger.
"You'll come back and cut him down?" Drizzt asked as they exited the town, revealing to Catti-brie that his keen ears had caught her parting words with the barbarian.
"Not a promise I'd ever want to try," Catti-brie replied, shaking her head. "Fighting that one when he's not so full o' mead would be about the same as walking into the cave of a restless bear.»
Drizzt stopped abruptly, and Catti-brie, after taking a couple more steps, turned about to regard him.
He stood pointing at her, smiling widely. "I have done that!" he remarked, and so Drizzt had yet another tale to recount as the two (and then three, for Drizzt was quick to recall Guenhwyvar) made their way along the trails, back into the mountains.
Later, as the stars twinkled brightly and the campfire burned low, Drizzt sat watching Catti-brie's prone form, her rhythmic breathing telling the drow that she was fast asleep.
"You know I love her," the drow said to Guenhwyvar.
The panther blinked her shining green eyes, but otherwise did not move.
"Yet, how could I?" Drizzt asked. "And not for the memory of Wulfgar," he quickly added, and he nodded as he heard himself speak the words, knowing that Wulfgar, who loved Drizzt as Drizzt loved him, would not disapprove.
"How could I ever?" the drow reiterated, his voice barely a whisper.
Guenhwyvar issued a long, low growl, but if it had any meaning, other than to convey that the panther was interested in what
the drow was saying, it was lost on Drizzt.
"She will not live so long," Drizzt went on quietly. "I will still be a young drow when she is gone." Drizzt looked from Catti-brie to the panther, and a new insight occurred to him. "You must understand such things, my eternal friend," the drow said. "Where will I fall in the span of your life? How many others have you kept as you keep me, my Guenhwyvar, and how many more shall there be?"
Drizzt rested his back against the mountain wall and looked to Catti-brie, then up to the stars. Sad were his thoughts, and yet, in many ways, they were comforting, like an eternal play, like emotions shared, like memories of Wulfgar. Drizzt sent those thoughts skyward, into the heavenly canopy, letting them break apart on the ceaseless and mournful wind.
His dreams were full of images of friends, of Zaknafein, his father, of Belwar, the svirfneblin gnome, of Captain Deudermont, of the good ship Sea Sprite, of Regis and Bruenor, of Wulfgar, and most of all, of Catti-brie.
It was as calm and pleasant a sleep as Drizzt Do'Urden had ever known.
Guenhwyvar watched the drow for some time, then rested her great feline head on wide paws and closed her green eyes. Drizzt's comments had hit the mark, except, of course, his intimation that her memory of him would be inconsequential in the centuries ahead. Guenhwyvar had indeed come to the call of many masters, most goodly, some wicked, in the past millennium, and even beyond that. Some the panther remembered, some not, but Drizzt…
Part 2 THE ONSET OF CHAOS
Forever after, the bards of the Realms called it the Time ofTroubles, the time when the gods were kicked out of the heavens, their avatars walking among the mortals. The time when the Tablets of Fate were stolen, invoking the wrath of Ao, Overlord of the Gods, when magic went awry, and when, as a consequence, social and religious hierarchies, so often based on magical strength, fell into chaos.
I have heard many tales from fanatical priests of their encounters withtheir particular avatars, frenzied stories from men and women who claim to have looked upon their deities. So many others came to convert to a religionduring this troubled time, likewise claiming they had seen the light and thetruth, however convoluted it might be.
I do not disagree with the claims, and would not openly attack thepremise of their encounters. I am glad for those who have found enrichmentamidst the chaos; I am glad whenever another person finds the contentmentof spiritual guidance.
But what of faith?
What of fidelity and loyalty? Complete trust? Faith is not granted bytangible proof. It comes from the heart and the soul. If a person needs proofof a god's existence, then the very notion of spirituality is diminished intosensuality and we have reduced what is holy into what is logical.
I have touched the unicorn, so rare and so precious, the symbol of the goddess Mielikki, who holds my heart and soul. This was before the onset of theTime of Troubles, yet were I of a like mind to those who make the claims of viewing avatars, I could say the same. I could say that I have touched Mielikki, thatshe came to me in a magical glade in the mountains near Dead Orc Pass.
The unicorn was not Mielikki, and yet it was, as is the sunrise and the seasons, as are the birds and the squirrels and the strength of a tree that has lived through the dawn and death of centuries. As are the leaves, blowing on autumn winds and the snow piling deep in cold mountain vales. As are
the smell of a crisp night, the twinkle of the starry canopy, and the howl of a distant wolf.
No, I'll not argue openly against one who has claimed to have seen anavatar, because that person will not understand that the mere presence of such a being undermines the very purpose of, and value of, faith. Because if the true gods were so tangible and so accessible, then we would no longer be independent creatures set on a journey to find the truth, but merely a herd of sheep needing the guidance of a shepherd and his dogs, unthinking and without the essence of faith.
The guidance is there, I know. Not in such a tangible form, but in whatwe know to be good and just. It is our own reactions to the acts of others that show us the value of our own actions, and if we have fallen so far as to need an avatar, an undeniable manifestation of a god, to show us our way, then we are pitiful creatures indeed.