He stopped there, and simply shrugged.
"As I, too, love them," Catti-brie answered.
"That is not what I mean," Wulfgar replied, not letting the dodge go past. "Do you love him? Do you see him as your partner, on the trails and in the home?"
Catti-brie looked at Wulfgar hard, trying to discern his intent. She saw no jealousy, no anger, and no signal of hopes, one way or the other. What she saw was Wulfgar, the true Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, a caring and loving companion.
"I do not know," she heard herself saying before she ever really considered the question.
The words caught her by surprise, hung in the air and in her thoughts, and she knew them to be true.
"I have felt your pain and your doubts," Wulfgar said, his voice going even softer, and he moved to her and braced her shoulders with his hands and lowered his forehead against hers. "We are all here for you, in any manner that you need. We, all of us, Drizzt included, are first your friends."
Catti-brie closed her eyes and let herself sink into that comforting moment, losing herself in the solidity of Wulfgar, in the understanding that he knew her pain, profoundly, that he had climbed from depths that she could hardly imagine. She found comfort in the knowledge that Wulfgar had returned from hell, that he had found his way, or at least, that he was walking a truer road.
She, too, would find that path, wherever it led.
"Bruenor told me," Drizzt said to Wulfgar when the drow returned from his extended scouting of the mountains to the northeast.
The drow dropped a hand onto his friend's shoulder and nodded.
"It was a rescue not unlike one of those Drizzt Do'Urden has perfected," Wulfgar replied, and he looked away.
"You have my thanks."
"I did not do it for you."
The simple statement, spoken simply, without obvious malice or anger, widened Drizzt's purple eyes.
"Of course not," he agreed.
The dark elf backed away, staring hard at Wulfgar, trying to find some clue as to where the barbarian's thoughts might be.
He saw only an impassive face, turned toward him.
"If we arc to go thanking each other every time one of us stays the weapon hand an enemy has aimed at another, then we will spend our days doing little else," Wulfgar said. "Catti-brie was in trouble, and I was fortunate enough — we were all fortunate enough — to have come upon her in time. Did I do any more or less than Drizzt Do'Urden might have done?"
The perplexed Drizzt said, "No."
"Did I do more, then, than Bruenor Battlehammer might have done, had he seen his daughter in such mortal peril?"
"No."
"Did I do more, then, than Regis would have done, or at least, would have tried to do?"
"I have taken your point," Drizzt said.
"Then hold it well," said Wulfgar, and he looked away once more.
It took Drizzt a few moments to finally catch on to what was happening. Wulfgar had seen his thanks as condescending, as if, somehow, he had done something beyond what the companions would expect of each other. That notion hadn't sat well on the big man's shoulders.
"I take back my offer of thanks," Drizzt said.
Wulfgar merely chuckled.
"Perhaps, instead, I offer you a warm welcome back," Drizzt added.
That turned Wulfgar to him, the barbarian throwing a puzzled expression his way.
Drizzt nodded and walked away, leaving Wulfgar with those words to consider. The drow turned his gaze to a rocky outcropping to the south of the encampment, where a solitary figure sat quietly.
"She's been up there all the day," Bruenor remarked, moving beside the drow. "Ever since he brought her back."
"Lying at the feet of outraged orcs can be an unsettling experience."
"Ye think?"
Drizzt looked over at his bearded friend.
"Ye gonna go to her, elf?" Bruenor asked.
Drizzt wasn't sure, and his confusion showed clearly on his face.
"Yeah, she might be needin' some time to herself," Bruenor remarked. He looked back at Wulfgar, drawing the drow's gaze with his own. "Not exactly the hero she'd expected, I'd be guessin'."
The words hit Drizzt hard, mostly because the implications were forcing him to emotional places to which he did not wish to venture. What was this about, after all? Was it about Wulfgar rescuing his former and Drizzt's present love? Or was it about one of the companions rescuing another, as had happened so many times on their long and trying road?
The latter, Drizzt decided. It had to be the latter, and all the rest of it was emotional baggage that had no place among them. Not out where an orc or giant seemed crouched behind every boulder, ready to kill them. Not out where such distractions could lead to incredible disaster. Drizzt nearly laughed aloud as he considered the swirl of thoughts churning within him, including those same protective feelings toward Catti-brie for which he had once scolded a younger Wulfgar.
He focused on the positive, then, on the fact that Catti-brie had survived without serious wounds, and on the fact that this stride Wulfgar had taken, this act of courage and strength and heroism, would likely move him further along his road back from the pits of Errtu's hell. Indeed, in looking at the barbarian then, moving with confidence and grace among the dwarves, a calm expression upon his face, it seemed to Drizzt as if the last edges of the smoke of the Abyss has washed clean of his features. Yes, Drizzt decided, it was a good day.
"I saw the tower of Shallows at midday," the drow told Bruenor, "but though I was close enough to see it clearly, even to make out the forms of the soldiers walking atop it, I believe we have a couple of days' march ahead of us. I was on the edge of a long ravine when I glimpsed it, one that will take days to move around."
"But the town was still standing?" the dwarf asked.
"Seemed a peaceful place, with pennants flying in the summer breeze."
"As it should be, elf. As it should be," Bruenor remarked. "We'll go in and tell 'em what's been what, and might that I'll leave a few dwarves with 'cm if they're needing the help, and—"
"And we go home," said Drizzt, studying Bruenor as he spoke, noting clearly that the dwarf wasn't hearing those words as any blessing.
"Might be other towns needin' us to check in on them," Bruenor huffed.
"I am sure that we can find a few if we look hard enough."
Bruenor either missed the sarcastic grin on Drizzt's face or simply chose to ignore it.
"Yup," the dwarf king said, and he walked away.
Drizzt watched him go, but his gaze was inevitably drawn back up to the high outcropping, to the lone figure of Catti-brie.
He wanted to go to her—desperately wanted to go and put his arms around her and tell her that everything was all right.
For some reason, though, Drizzt thought that would be ultimately unfair. He sensed that she needed some space from him and from everyone else, that she needed to sort through all the emotions that her close encounter with her own mortality had brought bubbling within her.
What kind of a friend might he be if he did not allow her that space?
Wulfgar was with the main body of dwarves that next day on the road, helping to haul the supplies, but Regis remained outside the group, moving along the higher trails with Drizzt and Catti-brie. He spent little time scouting for enemies, though, for he was too busy watching his two friends, and noting, very definitely, the change that had come over them.
Drizzt was all business, as usual, signaling back directions and weaving around with a sureness of foot and a speed that the others, save Guenhwyvar who was not even there this day, could not hope to match. The drow was pretending as if nothing had happened, Regis saw clearly, but it was just that, a pretense.