Drizzt held his doubts private and Catti-brie merely smiled and nodded. There was no reason to derail Bruenor’s optimism with an injection of sober reality.
“We know them Adbar and Felbarr boys’ll fight with us,” Bruenor went on, oblivious to the detachment of his audience. “If we’re getting the Moonwood and Silverymoon to join in, we’ll be puttin’ them orcs back in their holes in short order, don’t ye doubt!”
He rambled on sporadically for the next few moments, until at last Hralien was led into the chamber and formally introduced.
“Well met, King Bruenor,” the elf said after the list of his accomplishments and titles was read in full. “I come with news from the Moonwood.”
“Long ride if ye’ve come just to break bread,” said Bruenor.
“We have suffered an incursion from the orcs,” Hralien explained, talking right past Bruenor’s little jest. “A coordinated and cunning attack.”
“We know yer pain,” Bruenor replied, and Hralien bowed in appreciation.
“Several of my people were lost,” Hralien went on, “elves who should have known the birth and death of centuries to come.” He looked squarely at Drizzt as he continued, “Innovindil among them.”
Drizzt’s eyes widened and he gasped and slumped back, and Catti-brie brought her arm across his back to support him.
“And Sunset beneath her,” said Hralien, his voice less steady. “It would appear that the orcs had anticipated her arrival on the field, and were well prepared.”
Drizzt’s chest pumped with strong, gasping breaths. He looked as if he was about to say something, but no words came forth and he had the strength only to shake his head in denial. A great emptiness washed through him, a cold loss and callous reminder of the harsh immediacy of change, a sudden and irreversible reminder of mortality.
“I share your grief,” Hralien said. “Innovindil was my friend, beloved by all who knew her. And Sunrise is bereaved, do not doubt, for the loss of Innovindil and of Sunset, his companion for all these years.”
“Durned pig orcs,” Bruenor growled. “Are ye all still thinkin’ we should leave them to their gains? Are ye still o’ the mind that Obould’s kingdom should stand?”
“Orcs have attacked the Moonwood for years uncounted,” Hralien replied. “They come for wood and for mischief, and we kill them and send them running. But their attack was better this time—too much so for the simplistic race, we believe.” As he finished, he was again looking directly at Drizzt, so much so that he drew curious stares from Bruenor and Catti-brie in response.
“Tos’un Armgo,” Drizzt reasoned.
“We know him to be in the region, and he learned much of our ways in his time with Albondiel and Sinnafain,” Hralien explained.
Drizzt nodded, determination replacing his wounded expression. He had vowed to hunt down Tos’un when he and Innovindil had returned Ellifain’s body to the Moonwood. Suddenly that promise seemed all the more critical.
“A journey full o’ grief is a longer ride by ten, so the sayin’ goes,” said Bruenor. “Ye make yerself comfortable, Hralien o’ the Moon-wood. Me boys’ll see to yer every need, and ye stay as long as ye’re wantin’. Might be that I’ll have a story for ye soon enough—one that’ll put us all in better stead for ridding ourselves o’ the curse of Obould. A few days at the most, me friends’re tellin’ me.”
“I am a courier of news, and have come with a request, King Bruenor,” the elf explained, and he gave another respectful and appreciative bow. “Others will journey here from the Moonwood to your call, of course, but my own road is back through your eastern door no later than dawn tomorrow.” Again he looked Drizzt in the eye. “I hope I will not be alone.”
Drizzt nodded his agreement to go out on the hunt before he even turned to Catti-brie. He knew that she would not deny him that.
The couple were alone in their room soon after, and Drizzt began to fill his backpack.
“You’re going after Tos’un,” Catti-brie remarked, but did not ask.
“Have I a choice?”
“No. I only wish that I were well enough to go with you.”
Drizzt paused in his packing and turned to regard her. “In Menzoberranzan, they say, Aspis tu drow bed n’tuth drow. ‘Only a drow can hunt a drow.’”
“Then hunt well,” said Catti-brie, and she moved to the side wardrobe to aid Drizzt in his preparations. She seemed not upset with him in the least, which was why she caught Drizzt completely off his guard when she quietly asked, “Would you have married Innovindil when I am gone?”
Drizzt froze, and slowly mustered the courage to turn and look at Catti-brie. She wore a slight smile and seemed quite at ease and comfortable. She moved to their bed and sat on the edge, and motioned for Drizzt to join her.
“Would you have?” she asked again as he approached. “Innovindil was very beautiful, in body and in mind.”
“It is not something I think about,” said Drizzt.
Catti-brie’s smile grew wider. “I know,” she assured him. “But I am asking you to consider it now. Could you have loved her?”
Drizzt thought about it for a few moments then admitted, “I do not know.”
“And you never wondered about it at all?”
Drizzt’s thoughts went back to a moment he had shared with Innovindil when the two of them were out alone among the orc lines. Innovindil had nearly seduced him, though only to let him see more clearly his feelings for Catti-brie, whom he had thought dead at the time.
“You could have loved her, I think,” Catti-brie said.
“You may well be right,” he said.
“Do you think she thought of you in her last moments?”
Drizzt’s eyes widened in shock at the blunt question, but Catti-brie didn’t back down.
“She thought of Tarathiel, likely, and what was,” he answered.
“Or of Drizzt and what might have been.”
Drizzt shook his head. “She would not have looked there. Not then. Likely her every thought was for Sunset. To be an elf is to find the moment, the here and now. To revel in what is with knowledge and acceptance that what will be, will be, no matter the hopes and plans of any.”
“Innovindil would have had a fleeting moment of regret for Drizzt, and potential love lost,” Catti-brie said.
Drizzt didn’t disagree, and couldn’t, given the woman’s generous tone and expression. Catti-brie wasn’t judging him, wasn’t looking for reasons to doubt him. She confirmed that a moment later, when she laughed and put her hand up to stroke his cheek.
“You will outlive me by centuries, in all likelihood,” she explained. “I understand the implications of that, my love, and what a selfish fool I would be if I expected you to remain faithful to a memory. Nor would I want—nor do I want—that for you.”
“It doesn’t mean that we have to speak of it,” Drizzt retorted. “We know not where our roads will lead, nor which of us will outlive the other. These are dangerous times in a dangerous world.”
“I know.”
“Then is this something we should bother to discuss?”
Catti-brie shrugged, but gradually her smile dissipated and a cloud crossed her fair features.
“What is it?” Drizzt asked, and lifted his hand to turn her to face him directly.
“If the dangers do not end our time together, how will Drizzt feel, I wonder, in twenty years? Or thirty?”
The drow wore a puzzled expression.
“You will still be young and handsome, and full of life and love to give,” Catti-brie explained. “But I will be old and bent and ugly. You will stay by my side, I am sure, but what life will that be? What lust?”
It was Drizzt’s turn to laugh.
“Can you look at a human woman who has seen the turn of seventy years and think her attractive?”