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Description
Young Drizzt (Fan Fiction) mirrored from my other dev art page:

The razor sharp wind was fierce and unbearable as the winter storm blasted the mountains wickedly. The day was darkened with the heavy storm almost making it as bleak and black as night. The icy chill seeped deep into the very earth itself, icing over every inch of ground not within the small circle of the flickering firelight. It was quite the task to keep the wood for the fire dry and well rationed. It would be a hard few days, and Drizzt Do’Urden wanted to be sure that his young charge would be warm throughout the night. She’d come early in the day, with a small parcel and had lingered far too long. Now the storm was in full swing and Cattie-brie sat huddled close to the fire under the pile of furs usually reserved as Drizzt’s makeshift bedding. He smiled warmly at the shivering girl as he placed the heavy kettle filled with melted snow on the flames to boil. The large black mass under the furs shifted and yawned. It’s big feline head nuzzling close to Catie-brie as it shifted beside her. Guenhwyvar was a magical panther summoned from the small onyx figure that Drizzt had carried since he’d claimed it from Masoj Hunnet more then a score of years earlier.

“T..Tell me a story.” Came the tiny voice from beneath the furs, and mass of snoozing panther.
Drizzt looked up from his work at the fire and at the girl across from him. A smile touched his lips as he looked at her, his lavender eyes glittering in the warm flickering light as he studied her small face barely peeking out from behind the warm furs. “ A story? Isn’t that what kept you out this late and caused this whole mess?” He asked impishly.
“Ach, t’was me dad sendin’ me to ya that kept me late!” she protested stiffly. “He’s been knowing I like to listen to ye.” She smiled back at Drizzt and sat a bit straighter in her fur cocoon. “I’m thinking time will go faster with a story, one ye not been telling before.”
Drizzt bowed his head to the wrapped package at his side, and the pot he was working over. He hummed in thought as he continued cutting up the roots and dried vegetables for the stew. He looked again at the package of salted meat then at the girl peeking at him. It was strange, had time come full circle? There had been a time once long ago that he had been the one watching a stew being made, on a day when he could not return home. His lips twitched up fondly with the memory. It was more then a lifetime ago, so long ago that he’d almost forgotten it entirely until this very moment.

“Well are ye to be telling what your thinkin’ and smilin’ about Drizzt, or am I to be going without?” Catie-brie not one to miss the look of memory in Drizzt’s eye, and recognizing his expression as one of a great tale jibbed playfully. The young teen was sharp and smart as any, and Drizzt was glad for her wit, as well as her company. Maybe he’d kept her late on purpose?

The drow cleared his throat and placed the pot on the fire next to the kettle to boil their dinner. He sat back and settled in to tell the story. “Once, long ago.” He began thinking briefly to clear his memory. “When I was so much younger then you are now, Only four or five of your seasons old… but much more aware of myself then a human would have been. Drow children mature mentally much faster.” He smiled at her and leaned forward into the fire’s heat.

*****
Vierna Do’Urden’s heels clipped the stone floor as she strode down the massive ornate hall with unwavering purpose. The small drow at her heels running to try and keep up with his wean mother and older sister. He was silent and uncomplaining as he followed obediently behind. His soft foot falls barely perceptible as he skipped and raced along in silence. He was so busy following that he did not even see the other drow until it stepped directly in his path and he ran into it full on. The child fell onto his rump and stared up dazed at the other figure.
“Dinin.” Vierna hissed as she too came to an abrupt halt. “You dare bar my way?”
“No my sister.” He cooed bowing low and glaring at the small boy who still sat on the floor. “I come only to hasten you, the ceremony starts soon, and Matron Mother Malice has requested your prescience immediately.” He glared icily at the drow child as he stood up and moved to stand behind Vierna’s legs. “…surely you do not intend to bring…. The infant?” Dinin hissed smartly.
“How dare you.” Vierna growled reaching for her whip.
“ I meant no insult, my sister.” The older male breathed bowing even lower. “Only that it may not be the place for…such a young…male.” He cooed each word measuring them out for emphasis.
“I will be there.” She snapped back. “The boy will be taken care of for the duration. You are dismissed.” She growled between gritted teeth.
Dinin bowed again, and seemed to dissolve into the shadows as he moved quietly and quickly away.
Vierna glared down after him, then turned to Drizzt. “You should NEVER be caught by surprise like that child. Drow do not ever fall. If you do such a thing again, you will be punished, understood?”
The boy nodded and backed away from her, his eyes downcast and his lips quirking as he fought a smile.
It was only a few short moments later that Vierna was on her way to the ceremony and young Drizzt was delivered safely into the hands of Gurnimoli and her kitchens. Here the older Svirfnebli slaved over the pots and pans, dishes and foodstuff preparing the meals for the slaves and the other lowlier class of house servants and guards. The Matrons food and her direct family was prepared by more talented chefs then these fat short deep gnomes. It was a secret and safe place for the young second boy to be stowed away to during ceremonies and times when Vierna could not be vigilant. It was times like this when Drizzt was left with these kindly servants that he enjoyed some free time.
“Well, well…” the fat female gnome huffed looking at the drow child down her scornful nose. “These Dark pups and their rearing is absolutely disgusting if you ask me.” She snorted and grabbed at Drizzt’s wrist. “You look like a sack of bones, doesn’t that female feed you boy?” she demanded clucking maternally at the large eyed child. “They treat them girls like precious stones, hand me a boy and he looks half starved. Come along chicky… I’ve got some stew on…you sit and help ol’ Diter a bit…and you can have some extra helpings. Okay?”
Drizzt nodded his head as he was dragged across the stone floor to a wooden stool near the cook fire. He winced at the harsh light and turned away. It always was too bright and too hot in the kitchens, but he enjoyed the stories. It made the blisters and hard work worth it.
Diter was an old bent gnome who had only survived this long because he was protected aggressively by Gurnimoli. Other gnomes half his age were usually put down, or killed by inhuman tortures long before they reached this elderly point. Drizzt was convinced that Diter was the oldest gnome in the entire city. Only because of the love of Gurnimoli had he been allowed to live. And because of his age, he was at home in front of the hot fires, and his near blind eyes were not so badly bothered by the light. He was a perfect choice for keeping the pots going, and for cutting and peeling the mushrooms and pillwogs.
The small child shuffled onto his stool, and picked up the sharpened blade used for shelling the meaty protein rich creatures that would be the main ingredient in the slop this night. The magical flames crackled and the thick broth bubbled merrily as he deftly began shelling the still living creatures. They squeaked and shrieked as their bodies were wrenched from their protective casings and they were tossed into the boiling goo.
“Drizzt Do’Urden.” Diter mused squinting at the boy and his precarious position on the stool. “You are the only child I have ever seen that does not know how to sit properly, will you please get you feet off the stool and sit right. Blessed be if your Sister caught you being so improper. I would be whipped for sure.”
Drizzt without stopping his work kicked his feet out and deftly landed on the stool correctly. “Diter, would you tell me a story?” he asked his large eyes looking at the wrinkled old gray creature. He leaned forward and smiled. “It makes the time go by so much faster. And I do want to hear another one. ONE you’ve not told me before.”
“One you’ve not heard before?” The old male cackled as he worked. His hands deftly clearing three shells for every one Drizzt did.
“Yes.” The boy eagerly chirped kicking his feet excitedly. He was much too short for the stool, and his wrapped feet hung a good foot from the ground. He bobbed up and down with each swing of his feet, drawing a small chuckle from Gurnimoli who watched diligently from across the room.
“settle down young one.” The plump old female mused moving over with steaming cups of tea for the two males. “if you keep bobbing like that you’ll fall asleep before he even starts the tale.”
Drizzt stopped bobbing and took the cup, his tiny hands clasping it to his chest as he leaned into the stool to listen.
“Thank you Gurn.” Diter breathed taking his cup and settling back himself. “One you’ve not heard.” He smiled. “there are so many young Do’Urden. I was not always a servant in your house. I once ran ore for my people.”
He began the story animatedly, going into the old tales of cave monsters and weaving into stories of lost friends, and common goals. The most exciting ore finds, and the deadliest battles with beasts and even other creatures from the Underdark. The stories picked up where others left off, and some were so outlandish as to seem entirely fictitious. Like the tale of strange white monsters that lived in a cavern with no ceiling. These beasts according to the story had one horn and lived in a land of giant moss. They could heal the sick, and could kill human and fairy elves. Their blood could make excellent potions and their very hair could weave magnificent luminescent clothing. Drizzt was fully absorbed in these otherworldly tales. He dreamed of fighting and hunting in these places, he walked alongside the great heroes, and ate the strange magic foods that gave one abilities beyond the norm. He was so infatuated with the old gnomes stories that the time did indeed speed by. One moment he was peeling Coufer srooms, the next he was eating a second helping of Huionin cakes. Then finally after many hours, he was being rushed out of the kitchen back to Vierna.
It was weeks later after tales of the great heroic feats that Drizzt was told to “levitate” In one tale A great warrior had to overcome an obstacle to save his people. With that image still swimming in his head, the second boy stubbornly tried to obey his sister.
Many cycles later while Vierna was watching over him, Drizzt was scrubbing a statue of a female drow.
“Is this a great hero?” he asked lightly.
“That is Matron Malice, your mother.” Vierna quipped raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Where did you come up with that notion Second boy?” she demanded icily.
“The story of Paulder and Gnoursh.” He replied simply. “aulder was a GREAT warrior, and Gnoursh was an evil Fairy.” He went into the story and filled in all the places he lacked knowledge with explanations of different other stories he’d heard from Diter.
Vierna stood silent, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed as she listened intently to the stories, one after the other. She didn’t interrupt, and she made no comments on fact and fiction. When Drizzt was finished she simply dismissed him to his room, and walked away.
Drizzt was not asked about the warriors again, and whenever he asked questions about the stories, Vierna quickly and coldly corrected him. He was not to dream about such lies; he was not to even repeat such tales ever again.
A full turn later, as Vierna walked with Drizzt down the hall, the boy skipped along quietly.
“Drizzt, I am leaving you with Gurnimoli for several hours, I expect you will be the picture of pride for our family?”
“Yes Vierna” he agreed trying to hide his joy at this wonderful news.
He contained his joy as best he could all the way to the kitchens, and finally when Vierna left, he burst out in excitement and ran to the fire.
“Diter!” he chirped. “tell me a….” he stopped in mid question. The gnome was not there, in his place was a fat young male kobold with a missing eye and a rotten stench. “where is Diter?” Drizzt questioned as Gurnimoli hovered behind him holding his shelling knife.
“He’s gone young master, you just sit quiet and shell your pillwogs.” She crossed her arms angrily and glared at him down her nose, which was strangely scarred. She also looked harder in to eyes then Drizzt remembered.
“If I work hard, extra helpings?” The boy quipped happily.
“You’ll be lucky if you get any helpings at all.” She hissed and stormed away.

Confused he watched her go, then turned and looked at the creature across from him. It was sickly yellow in color and smelled like something was rotting on its body. It glared down its snout at Drizzt and continued to work silently.
“Where did Diter go?” he questioned the thing.
It just looked at him, then stopped working to point it’s shelling knife at him. “Not going to die. You shut no talk. I no die like last one. Example you make him. I learn.” It gurgled barely intelligibly. Then doubled it’s effort to shell pillwogs faster then Drizzt.
Sore, hungry, and with half burned eyes Drizzt followed slowly behind Vierna as she marched him back to the topmost part of the house. Drizzt never returned to the kitchens after that, and for some reason, he felt as if he was supposed to have learned something from that experience.
However, in the dark of the time for rest, still many years later. He would lay and recall the stories of the great heroes and the bent old gnome who told the tales with so much enthusiasm. When his Father Zaknafein would train him in fighting, for a brief moment he would dream of the adventures to come. And each day the stories faded from memory, but the thrill was still there. There was the shadow of joy, the thrill of excitement, the small hint that a seed of a hero was waiting patiently to blossom.

Drizzt held his hand up with a flourish and finished his story. Catie-brie stared at him wide-eyed and silent. He smiled, and took another bowl of stew from the pot. “well?” he asked the girl.

“That is so sad.” She mumbled.
“Sad?” He asked startled by her tone. “how so?”
“Your sister…She killed the Gnome.” She swallowed, “Didn’t she?”
Drizzt paused and thought about it. “Diter was very old, he may have passed on his own. Maybe Vierna did have him killed… but don’t you get the point? He may be gone in body, but his spirit continues. His stories, his life, he continues in me, and now he continues in you, and if you tell his tale…he will go on and on.” Drizzt smiled kindly and reached over to touch the girls face. “Don’t you see Catie-brie, he’s immortal now.”
Catie-brie nodded solemnly. “As you will one day be Drizzt Do’Urden. When I tell your tale to me children and me children’s children.”
Drizzt laughed suddenly his head thrown back and the sound ripping though him startlingly loud in the close quartered cave. “As then will be yourself, and your father.” He guffawed.
Catie-brie smiled back and laughed with him. “I don’t think any one will ever be forgettin me dad!” she chortled.
Guenhwyvar groaned and yawned startled awake by the laughter. Her timely moan only coercing another loud burst of giggles from the two.
“What in the Name of Moaradin are you doin in here ye Durned elf?” came the bellow from the cave entrance. There covered in snow and looking a bit worse for wear was the surely Dwarf they had just been referencing.
Drizzt snickered and covered his mouth quickly to hide his laughter.
“nothing me da~” Catie-brie giggled just the cat tellin’ jokes.”
“The cat tells jokes?” the gruff Dwarf questioned as he eyed the snoozing panther.
“Jokes about Bruenor Battlehammer.” Drizzt sniggered still failing to hold his laughter.
“yea, not one we will be forgettin any time soon.” Catie-brie choked.
Drizzt bent forward and howled in glee, as Catie-brie joined in hysterically.
Bruenor sighed heavily and eyed the now awake panther who moaned softly at being once again woken by raucous laughter.
“Ye are bein a BAD influence on me girl, elf.” The dwarf muttered, “An after I dragged mesself here in this storm because you were keeping her out so late.”
Drizzt grinned winningly and passed the dwarf a mug of hot brew and a bowl of Stew. “why don’t you sit, relax…and tell us a story dwarf.”
“Yes me da! Tell us a story.”
“One we’ve not heard before.” Both Catie-brie and Drizzt chimed together before bursting out in laughter again.
“Ye be daft, the lot of ye.” The dwarf muttered, the swigged his brew. “ a story it is then, of me father…..”

Description
Young Drizzt (Fan Fiction) mirrored from my other dev art page:

The razor sharp wind was fierce and unbearable as the winter storm blasted the mountains wickedly. The day was darkened with the heavy storm almost making it as bleak and black as night. The icy chill seeped deep into the very earth itself, icing over every inch of ground not within the small circle of the flickering firelight. It was quite the task to keep the wood for the fire dry and well rationed. It would be a hard few days, and Drizzt Do’Urden wanted to be sure that his young charge would be warm throughout the night. She’d come early in the day, with a small parcel and had lingered far too long. Now the storm was in full swing and Cattie-brie sat huddled close to the fire under the pile of furs usually reserved as Drizzt’s makeshift bedding. He smiled warmly at the shivering girl as he placed the heavy kettle filled with melted snow on the flames to boil. The large black mass under the furs shifted and yawned. It’s big feline head nuzzling close to Catie-brie as it shifted beside her. Guenhwyvar was a magical panther summoned from the small onyx figure that Drizzt had carried since he’d claimed it from Masoj Hunnet more then a score of years earlier.

“T..Tell me a story.” Came the tiny voice from beneath the furs, and mass of snoozing panther.
Drizzt looked up from his work at the fire and at the girl across from him. A smile touched his lips as he looked at her, his lavender eyes glittering in the warm flickering light as he studied her small face barely peeking out from behind the warm furs. “ A story? Isn’t that what kept you out this late and caused this whole mess?” He asked impishly.
“Ach, t’was me dad sendin’ me to ya that kept me late!” she protested stiffly. “He’s been knowing I like to listen to ye.” She smiled back at Drizzt and sat a bit straighter in her fur cocoon. “I’m thinking time will go faster with a story, one ye not been telling before.”
Drizzt bowed his head to the wrapped package at his side, and the pot he was working over. He hummed in thought as he continued cutting up the roots and dried vegetables for the stew. He looked again at the package of salted meat then at the girl peeking at him. It was strange, had time come full circle? There had been a time once long ago that he had been the one watching a stew being made, on a day when he could not return home. His lips twitched up fondly with the memory. It was more then a lifetime ago, so long ago that he’d almost forgotten it entirely until this very moment.

“Well are ye to be telling what your thinkin’ and smilin’ about Drizzt, or am I to be going without?” Catie-brie not one to miss the look of memory in Drizzt’s eye, and recognizing his expression as one of a great tale jibbed playfully. The young teen was sharp and smart as any, and Drizzt was glad for her wit, as well as her company. Maybe he’d kept her late on purpose?

The drow cleared his throat and placed the pot on the fire next to the kettle to boil their dinner. He sat back and settled in to tell the story. “Once, long ago.” He began thinking briefly to clear his memory. “When I was so much younger then you are now, Only four or five of your seasons old… but much more aware of myself then a human would have been. Drow children mature mentally much faster.” He smiled at her and leaned forward into the fire’s heat.

*****
Vierna Do’Urden’s heels clipped the stone floor as she strode down the massive ornate hall with unwavering purpose. The small drow at her heels running to try and keep up with his wean mother and older sister. He was silent and uncomplaining as he followed obediently behind. His soft foot falls barely perceptible as he skipped and raced along in silence. He was so busy following that he did not even see the other drow until it stepped directly in his path and he ran into it full on. The child fell onto his rump and stared up dazed at the other figure.
“Dinin.” Vierna hissed as she too came to an abrupt halt. “You dare bar my way?”
“No my sister.” He cooed bowing low and glaring at the small boy who still sat on the floor. “I come only to hasten you, the ceremony starts soon, and Matron Mother Malice has requested your prescience immediately.” He glared icily at the drow child as he stood up and moved to stand behind Vierna’s legs. “…surely you do not intend to bring…. The infant?” Dinin hissed smartly.
“How dare you.” Vierna growled reaching for her whip.
“ I meant no insult, my sister.” The older male breathed bowing even lower. “Only that it may not be the place for…such a young…male.” He cooed each word measuring them out for emphasis.
“I will be there.” She snapped back. “The boy will be taken care of for the duration. You are dismissed.” She growled between gritted teeth.
Dinin bowed again, and seemed to dissolve into the shadows as he moved quietly and quickly away.
Vierna glared down after him, then turned to Drizzt. “You should NEVER be caught by surprise like that child. Drow do not ever fall. If you do such a thing again, you will be punished, understood?”
The boy nodded and backed away from her, his eyes downcast and his lips quirking as he fought a smile.
It was only a few short moments later that Vierna was on her way to the ceremony and young Drizzt was delivered safely into the hands of Gurnimoli and her kitchens. Here the older Svirfnebli slaved over the pots and pans, dishes and foodstuff preparing the meals for the slaves and the other lowlier class of house servants and guards. The Matrons food and her direct family was prepared by more talented chefs then these fat short deep gnomes. It was a secret and safe place for the young second boy to be stowed away to during ceremonies and times when Vierna could not be vigilant. It was times like this when Drizzt was left with these kindly servants that he enjoyed some free time.
“Well, well…” the fat female gnome huffed looking at the drow child down her scornful nose. “These Dark pups and their rearing is absolutely disgusting if you ask me.” She snorted and grabbed at Drizzt’s wrist. “You look like a sack of bones, doesn’t that female feed you boy?” she demanded clucking maternally at the large eyed child. “They treat them girls like precious stones, hand me a boy and he looks half starved. Come along chicky… I’ve got some stew on…you sit and help ol’ Diter a bit…and you can have some extra helpings. Okay?”
Drizzt nodded his head as he was dragged across the stone floor to a wooden stool near the cook fire. He winced at the harsh light and turned away. It always was too bright and too hot in the kitchens, but he enjoyed the stories. It made the blisters and hard work worth it.
Diter was an old bent gnome who had only survived this long because he was protected aggressively by Gurnimoli. Other gnomes half his age were usually put down, or killed by inhuman tortures long before they reached this elderly point. Drizzt was convinced that Diter was the oldest gnome in the entire city. Only because of the love of Gurnimoli had he been allowed to live. And because of his age, he was at home in front of the hot fires, and his near blind eyes were not so badly bothered by the light. He was a perfect choice for keeping the pots going, and for cutting and peeling the mushrooms and pillwogs.
The small child shuffled onto his stool, and picked up the sharpened blade used for shelling the meaty protein rich creatures that would be the main ingredient in the slop this night. The magical flames crackled and the thick broth bubbled merrily as he deftly began shelling the still living creatures. They squeaked and shrieked as their bodies were wrenched from their protective casings and they were tossed into the boiling goo.
“Drizzt Do’Urden.” Diter mused squinting at the boy and his precarious position on the stool. “You are the only child I have ever seen that does not know how to sit properly, will you please get you feet off the stool and sit right. Blessed be if your Sister caught you being so improper. I would be whipped for sure.”
Drizzt without stopping his work kicked his feet out and deftly landed on the stool correctly. “Diter, would you tell me a story?” he asked his large eyes looking at the wrinkled old gray creature. He leaned forward and smiled. “It makes the time go by so much faster. And I do want to hear another one. ONE you’ve not told me before.”
“One you’ve not heard before?” The old male cackled as he worked. His hands deftly clearing three shells for every one Drizzt did.
“Yes.” The boy eagerly chirped kicking his feet excitedly. He was much too short for the stool, and his wrapped feet hung a good foot from the ground. He bobbed up and down with each swing of his feet, drawing a small chuckle from Gurnimoli who watched diligently from across the room.
“settle down young one.” The plump old female mused moving over with steaming cups of tea for the two males. “if you keep bobbing like that you’ll fall asleep before he even starts the tale.”
Drizzt stopped bobbing and took the cup, his tiny hands clasping it to his chest as he leaned into the stool to listen.
“Thank you Gurn.” Diter breathed taking his cup and settling back himself. “One you’ve not heard.” He smiled. “there are so many young Do’Urden. I was not always a servant in your house. I once ran ore for my people.”
He began the story animatedly, going into the old tales of cave monsters and weaving into stories of lost friends, and common goals. The most exciting ore finds, and the deadliest battles with beasts and even other creatures from the Underdark. The stories picked up where others left off, and some were so outlandish as to seem entirely fictitious. Like the tale of strange white monsters that lived in a cavern with no ceiling. These beasts according to the story had one horn and lived in a land of giant moss. They could heal the sick, and could kill human and fairy elves. Their blood could make excellent potions and their very hair could weave magnificent luminescent clothing. Drizzt was fully absorbed in these otherworldly tales. He dreamed of fighting and hunting in these places, he walked alongside the great heroes, and ate the strange magic foods that gave one abilities beyond the norm. He was so infatuated with the old gnomes stories that the time did indeed speed by. One moment he was peeling Coufer srooms, the next he was eating a second helping of Huionin cakes. Then finally after many hours, he was being rushed out of the kitchen back to Vierna.
It was weeks later after tales of the great heroic feats that Drizzt was told to “levitate” In one tale A great warrior had to overcome an obstacle to save his people. With that image still swimming in his head, the second boy stubbornly tried to obey his sister.
Many cycles later while Vierna was watching over him, Drizzt was scrubbing a statue of a female drow.
“Is this a great hero?” he asked lightly.
“That is Matron Malice, your mother.” Vierna quipped raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Where did you come up with that notion Second boy?” she demanded icily.
“The story of Paulder and Gnoursh.” He replied simply. “aulder was a GREAT warrior, and Gnoursh was an evil Fairy.” He went into the story and filled in all the places he lacked knowledge with explanations of different other stories he’d heard from Diter.
Vierna stood silent, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed as she listened intently to the stories, one after the other. She didn’t interrupt, and she made no comments on fact and fiction. When Drizzt was finished she simply dismissed him to his room, and walked away.
Drizzt was not asked about the warriors again, and whenever he asked questions about the stories, Vierna quickly and coldly corrected him. He was not to dream about such lies; he was not to even repeat such tales ever again.
A full turn later, as Vierna walked with Drizzt down the hall, the boy skipped along quietly.
“Drizzt, I am leaving you with Gurnimoli for several hours, I expect you will be the picture of pride for our family?”
“Yes Vierna” he agreed trying to hide his joy at this wonderful news.
He contained his joy as best he could all the way to the kitchens, and finally when Vierna left, he burst out in excitement and ran to the fire.
“Diter!” he chirped. “tell me a….” he stopped in mid question. The gnome was not there, in his place was a fat young male kobold with a missing eye and a rotten stench. “where is Diter?” Drizzt questioned as Gurnimoli hovered behind him holding his shelling knife.
“He’s gone young master, you just sit quiet and shell your pillwogs.” She crossed her arms angrily and glared at him down her nose, which was strangely scarred. She also looked harder in to eyes then Drizzt remembered.
“If I work hard, extra helpings?” The boy quipped happily.
“You’ll be lucky if you get any helpings at all.” She hissed and stormed away.

Confused he watched her go, then turned and looked at the creature across from him. It was sickly yellow in color and smelled like something was rotting on its body. It glared down its snout at Drizzt and continued to work silently.
“Where did Diter go?” he questioned the thing.
It just looked at him, then stopped working to point it’s shelling knife at him. “Not going to die. You shut no talk. I no die like last one. Example you make him. I learn.” It gurgled barely intelligibly. Then doubled it’s effort to shell pillwogs faster then Drizzt.
Sore, hungry, and with half burned eyes Drizzt followed slowly behind Vierna as she marched him back to the topmost part of the house. Drizzt never returned to the kitchens after that, and for some reason, he felt as if he was supposed to have learned something from that experience.
However, in the dark of the time for rest, still many years later. He would lay and recall the stories of the great heroes and the bent old gnome who told the tales with so much enthusiasm. When his Father Zaknafein would train him in fighting, for a brief moment he would dream of the adventures to come. And each day the stories faded from memory, but the thrill was still there. There was the shadow of joy, the thrill of excitement, the small hint that a seed of a hero was waiting patiently to blossom.

Drizzt held his hand up with a flourish and finished his story. Catie-brie stared at him wide-eyed and silent. He smiled, and took another bowl of stew from the pot. “well?” he asked the girl.

“That is so sad.” She mumbled.
“Sad?” He asked startled by her tone. “how so?”
“Your sister…She killed the Gnome.” She swallowed, “Didn’t she?”
Drizzt paused and thought about it. “Diter was very old, he may have passed on his own. Maybe Vierna did have him killed… but don’t you get the point? He may be gone in body, but his spirit continues. His stories, his life, he continues in me, and now he continues in you, and if you tell his tale…he will go on and on.” Drizzt smiled kindly and reached over to touch the girls face. “Don’t you see Catie-brie, he’s immortal now.”
Catie-brie nodded solemnly. “As you will one day be Drizzt Do’Urden. When I tell your tale to me children and me children’s children.”
Drizzt laughed suddenly his head thrown back and the sound ripping though him startlingly loud in the close quartered cave. “As then will be yourself, and your father.” He guffawed.
Catie-brie smiled back and laughed with him. “I don’t think any one will ever be forgettin me dad!” she chortled.
Guenhwyvar groaned and yawned startled awake by the laughter. Her timely moan only coercing another loud burst of giggles from the two.
“What in the Name of Moaradin are you doin in here ye Durned elf?” came the bellow from the cave entrance. There covered in snow and looking a bit worse for wear was the surely Dwarf they had just been referencing.
Drizzt snickered and covered his mouth quickly to hide his laughter.
“nothing me da~” Catie-brie giggled just the cat tellin’ jokes.”
“The cat tells jokes?” the gruff Dwarf questioned as he eyed the snoozing panther.
“Jokes about Bruenor Battlehammer.” Drizzt sniggered still failing to hold his laughter.
“yea, not one we will be forgettin any time soon.” Catie-brie choked.
Drizzt bent forward and howled in glee, as Catie-brie joined in hysterically.
Bruenor sighed heavily and eyed the now awake panther who moaned softly at being once again woken by raucous laughter.
“Ye are bein a BAD influence on me girl, elf.” The dwarf muttered, “An after I dragged mesself here in this storm because you were keeping her out so late.”
Drizzt grinned winningly and passed the dwarf a mug of hot brew and a bowl of Stew. “why don’t you sit, relax…and tell us a story dwarf.”
“Yes me da! Tell us a story.”
“One we’ve not heard before.” Both Catie-brie and Drizzt chimed together before bursting out in laughter again.
“Ye be daft, the lot of ye.” The dwarf muttered, the swigged his brew. “ a story it is then, of me father…..”