He heard the woman's approach but did not turn to her, afraid that if he looked into her eyes at that moment he would burst out in sobs. And that was something he could not do, something none of them could afford.
"No," Catti-brie said, and she dropped a comforting and familiar hand on Wulfgar's broad shoulder, then moved in closer to hug his head against her breast. "He's already lost to us," she whispered. "We witnessed his fall in Shallows. That was when our Bruenor died, and not when his body takes its last breath. The priests have been keeping him breathing for our own sake, and not for Bruenor's. Bruenor's long gone already, sitting around a table with Gandalug and Dagnabbit, likely, and grumbling about us and our crying."
Wulfgar put his own huge hand over Catti-brie's and turned to look at her, silently thanking her for her calming words. He still wasn't sure about all of it, feeling almost as if he was betraying Bruenor by not being by his side when he passed over to the other world. But how could Banak and the others spare him and Catti-brie at that point, for surely the efforts of the pair were doing much to bolster the cause?
And wouldn't Bruenor slap him across the head if he ever heard of such a thing?
"I can hardly say my farewells to him," Wulfgar admitted.
"When we thought you dead, taken by the yochlol, Bruenor fretted about for tendays and tendays," Catti-brie explained. "His heart was ripped out from his chest like never before." She moved around, placing one hand on either side of Wulfgar's face and staring at him intently. "But he did go on. And in those first days, with the murdering dark elves still thick about us, he let his anger lead the way. No time for mourning, he kept muttering, when he thought none were about to hear him."
"And we must be equally strong," Wulfgar agreed.
They had been over it all before, of course, saying many of the same words and with the same determination. Wulfgar understood that the need he and Catti-brie had to repeat the conversation came from deep-seeded doubts and fears, from a situation that had so quickly spun out of their control.
"Bruenor Battlehammer's rest with his ancestors," he continued, "will be easier indeed if he knows that Mithral Hall is safe and that his friends and family fought on in his name and for his cause."
Catti-brie kissed him on the forehead and hugged him close, and with a deep breath, Wulfgar let go of his pain—temporarily, he knew. All the world had changed for him, and all the world would change again, and not for the better, when they buried King Bruenor beside his ancestors. Catti-brie's words made sense, and Wulfgar understood that Bruenor had died gloriously, as a dwarf ought to die, as Bruenor would have chosen to die, in the fight at Shallows.
That realization did make it a little easier.
Just a little.
"And what of you?" Wulfgar asked the woman. "You are so concerned with how everyone else might be feeling, and yet I see a great pain in your blue eyes, my friend."
"What creature would I be if losing the dwarf who raised me as his own child didn't wound me heart?" Catti-brie replied.
Wulfgar reached up and grabbed her firmly by the forearms.
"I mean about Drizzt," he said quietly.
"I do not think he's dead," came the emphatic reply.
Wulfgar shook his head with every word, agreeing wholeheartedly.
"Orcs and giants?" he said. "No, Drizzt is alive and well and likely killing as many of our enemies as this whole army of us are killing here."
Catti-brie's responding expression was more grit than smile as she nodded.
"But that is not what I meant," Wulfgar went on. "I know the confusion that you now endure, for it is clear to all who know you and love you."
"You're talking silliness," Catti-brie answered, and in a telling gesture, she tried to pull away.
Wulfgar held her firm and steady.
"Do you love him?" he asked.
"I could ask the same of Wulfgar, and get the same answer, I'm sure."
"You know what I mean," Wulfgar pressed. "Of course you love Drizzt as a friend, as I do, as Regis does, as Bruenor does. I knew that I would find my way from the drink and from my torment when I returned to you four, my friends. My true friends and family. And you understand that which I now ask. Do you love him?"
He let go of Catti-brie, and she did step back, though she didn't turn her eyes from his crystalline blue gaze and did not even blink.
"When you were gone …" she started to reply.
Wulfgar laughed at her obvious attempt to spare his feelings.
"This has nothing to do with me!" he insisted. "Except in the manner that I am to you a friend. Someone who cares very deeply for you. Please, for your own sake, do not avoid this. Do you love him?"
Catti-brie gave a deep sigh, and she did look down.
"Drizzt," she said, "is special to me in ways beyond that of the others of our group."
"And are you lovers?"
The blunt and personal question had the woman snapping her gaze back up at the barbarian. There was nothing but true compassion in his eyes, though, and so Catti-brie did not lash out.
"We spent years together," she said quietly. "When ye fell and were lost to us, me and Drizzt spent years together, riding and sailing with Deudermont."
Wulfgar smiled at her and held up his hand, gently telling her that he had heard enough, that he understood well her meaning.
"Was it love or friendship that guided your way through those years and those roads?" Wulfgar asked.
Catti-brie pondered that for a bit, glancing off into the distance.
"There was always friendship," she said. "We two never let go of that. Friendship and companionship above all else sustained me and Drizzt on the road."
"And now you're pained because it was more than that for you," Wulfgar reasoned. "And when you thought you were dead with those orcs, the sting was all the more because you've all the more to lose."
Catti-brie stood staring at him and making no move to answer.
"So tell me, my dear friend, are you ready to surrender that road?" Wulfgar asked. "Are you ready to forsake the adventures?"
"No more than Bruenor ever was!" Catti-brie snapped at him without the slightest bit of hesitation.
Wulfgar smiled widely, for it was all sorting out for him then, and he believed that he might be able to actually help his friend when she needed him.
"Do you wish to have children?" he asked.
Catti-brie stared at him incredulously.
"What kind of question is that for you to be asking me?"
"The kind a friend would ask," said Wulfgar, and he asked it again.
Catti-brie's stern gaze dissipated, and it was obvious to Wulfgar that she was really looking inward then, honestly asking herself that very same question for perhaps the first time.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I always thought it'd be an easy choice, and of course, I'd want to have some of me own. But I'm not so sure of meself, though I'm guessing that I'm running out of time to decide."
"And do you wish to have Drizzt's children?"
A look of panic came over the woman, her eyes going wide with apparent horror, but then softening quickly. She was torn, Wulfgar could clearly see, and had certainly expected. For this was the crux of it all, the rough rub in their relationship. Drizzt was a drow, and could Catti-brie honestly go down that path? Could she honestly have children who were half-drow in heritage?
Certainly the answer here was twofold, a heartfelt yes and a logical no, and both were emphatic.
Wulfgar began to chuckle.
"You're mocking me," Catti-brie said to him, and Wulfgar noted that as she became agitated, she seemed to sound more like a dwarf!
"No, no," Wulfgar assured her, and he held up his hands defensively. "I was considering the irony of it all, and it amuses me that you are even listening to my words of advice. I, who have taken a wife from the most unlikeliest of places and who am raising a child that is neither mine nor that of my unlikely wife."