Sojourn

Co

Drizzt saw the ruse coming long before the farmer’s young daughter moved out alone in the blueberry patch. He saw, too, the four Thistledown boys, crouched in the shadows of a nearby grove of maple trees, Co

The youngest had led them here, Drizzt knew. The day before, the drow had witnessed the boy being pulled out into the woodshed. Cries of “drizzit!” had issued forth after every switch, at least at the begi

The blueberry picker jerked suddenly, then fell to the ground and cried out. Drizzt recognized “Help!” as the same distress call the sandy-haired boy had used, and a smile widened across his dark face. By the ridiculous way the girl had fallen, Drizzt saw the game for what it was. The girl was not injured now; she was simply calling out for the drizzit.

With an incredulous shake of his thick white mane, Drizzt started away, but an impulse grabbed at him. He looked back to the blueberry patch, where the girl sat rubbing her ankle, all the while glancing nervously around or back toward her concealed brothers. Something pulled at Drizzt’s heartstrings at that moment, an urge he could not resist. How long had he been alone, wandering without companionship? He longed for Belwar at that moment, the svirfneblin who had accompanied him through many trials in the wilds of the Underdark. He longed for Zaknafein, his father and friend. Seeing the interplay between the caring siblings was more than Drizzt Do’Urden could bear. The time had come for Drizzt to meet his neighbors. Drizzt hiked the hood of his oversized gnoll cloak up over his head, though the ragged garment did little to hide the truth of his heritage, and bounded across the field. He hoped that if he could at least deflect the girl’s initial reaction to seeing him, he might find some way to communicate with her. The hopes were farfetched at best.

“The drizzit!” Eleni gasped under her breath when she saw him coming. She wanted to cry out loud but found no breath; she wanted to run, but her terror held her firmly. From the copse of trees, Liam spoke for her. “The drizzit!” the boy cried. “I told you so! I told you so!” He looked to his brothers, and Fla

“By the gods,” the eldest Thistledown son muttered. Co

Drizzt stopped a dozen paces from the frightened girl, the first human woman he had seen up close, and studied her. Eleni was pretty by any race’s standards, with huge, soft eyes, dimpled cheeks, and smooth, golden skin. Drizzt knew there would be no fight here. He smiled at Eleni and crossed his arms gently over his chest. “Drizzt,” he corrected, pointing to his chest. A movement to the side turned him away from the girl.

“Run, Eleni!” Co

Of all that Co

“Turn away, dark elf,” Co

Drizzt held his hands out helplessly, not understanding a word.

“Turn away!” Co

On an impulse, Drizzt tried to reply in the drow silent code, an intricate language of hand and facial gestures.

“He’s casting a spell!” Eleni cried, and she dove down into the blueberries. Co

Before Co

Drizzt held his arms out wide and smiled. In drow custom, such a show of superiority without injuring the opponent invariably signaled a desire for friendship. To the oldest son of farmer Bartholemew Thistledown, the drow’s blinding display brought only awe-inspired terror.

Co

A scream erupted from somewhere within Co

Drizzt was left, his smile fast fading and his arms out wide, standing all alone in the blueberry patch.

A set of dizzily darting eyes had watched the exchange in the blueberry patch with more than a casual interest. The unexpected appearance of a dark elf, particularly one wearing a gnoll cloak, had answered many questions for Tephanis. The quickling sleuth had already examined the gnoll corpses but simply could not reconcile the gnolls’ fatal wounds with the crude weapons usually wielded by the simple village farmers. Seeing the magnificent twin scimitars so casually belted on the dark elf’s hips and the ease with which the dark elf had dispatched the farm boy, Tephanis knew the truth.

The dust trail left by the quickling would have confused the best rangers in the Realms. Tephanis, never a straightforward sprite, zipped up the mountain trails, spi

4. Worries

Farmer Bartholemew Thistledown’s perspective changed considerably when Co

Lack of personal experience with the drow race did not diminish Farmer Thistledown’s fears at hearing his children’s tale of the encounter in the blueberry patch. Co