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Description
Morrik Firth walked the dirt roads of Stone-Arrow looking at the many stands and vendors that made up most of the small trade post.
The young man was not shopping; he could get far better goods from his father back in Baldur’s Gate. No he was merely wasting time tell his cousin was done with the seasonal talks.  Even though edict required him to attend them as well he did not. He felt that talking with the likes of dwarves and orcs was beneath him.  He would’t have come at all if it was not for another matter.

Up ahead, talking to a one eye dwarf with a brown beard was Rua’leen; the half-drow ranger had caught his interest the first time he was here. His uncle had told him to keep his distance,  that the girl was not worth the trouble she would bring, but Morrik cared little about that.  He was more interested in his brothers back home and the pride of telling them how he bedded a dark elf. They have sailed up and down the sword-coast, seen many exotic land and women but none of them claimed to have such an achievement to boast. He heard tales on what drow women where like and was sure it would not take much.

He tried to be subtle at first but that took to long for him. Then last night when she stayed in stone arrow he tried to use some wine to coxes her to his room at the guest inn, but she insisted agents it. She had claimed that she would leave too early in the morning to partake in such that night. He persisted, but it failed as the most obnoxious dwarf he ever met in squeaky spike armor came up, took the bottle and actually drank the whole thing without so much as being fazed by the potent drink, potent fore it was laced with gin, than thanked him for the little night cap.

That was then, now he plans to be more direct. In the end all women where like horses. They just need to be broken in.

He began to make out the discussion between the two as he neared.
“Can’t you just let one out of your order?” Rua’leen asked showing a short sword in bad condition to the vendor.

“If I start doing that me customers will start thinking I’m not reliable enough to handle any future deals and it would hurt me good name too.” The dwarf replied. “Maybe ye should ask the boys back in the Halls armory about ah new one?”

“I’ve done that and they say that I’m not allowed in until three tendays.”

“That’s too bad, maybe ye done something ye shouldn't have.”
“Like what?” Rua’leen asked, but the dwarf gave only a large toothy grin and shrugged his shoulders.

“How’s about a few new throwing knives I just got in, heard ya been practicing ye’r throw.”

“I was looking for a new sword too.” She added as she placed the near broken blade into the vendor’s table point first and crossed her arms, taking an unimpressed posture.

Morrik came up to right. “It’s a crime the way these dwarves do there business.”

Rua’leen gave him a look but said nothing. “So you can’t help me then?” she asked the dwarf

“I’m fared not.”
She sighed, pulled out her sword and started to walk away. Morrik stepped in front of her.
“You know if mater that much I could get you a new one.”
“No that’s alright, I couldn't–” she began as politely as she could.
“No I inset I’ll even give you lessons.”
“Lessons!” Rua’leen said abruptly with a look of disbelief.
Morrik, misunderstanding her outburst Heft up his sword belt and smiled. “My father provided me with the finest trainers when I was younger, theirs lots I could offer you.”  He took a step closer “A lot I could offer.” He finished with his hand on her shoulder.

Rua’leen wasn’t sure which was worse. That Morrik thought she was so simple a girl or that he was a better swordsman. She looked to his hand, still on her shoulder, then to him. She admit he looked attractive with Light brown hair, blue eyes and a tall average built frame of six foot, but she harbored no feeling for him.  He was pompous, self absorbed, ignorant and those are the nice things she would say about him.

“I’m afraid you don’t understand.” She said as she tried removed his hand.

“Oh I understand dear Rua’leen,” Morrik began saying quietly and gently grabbed her hand.  “You’re old enough to know how things are.” He smiled more coyly, “Why don’t we stop being so formal and discus this some where more privet.”

“I don’t think the lass cares too much for your company.” The dwarf Rua’leen was speaking with said. “It might be best for ya to start stepping away?”

“This dose not concerns you.”Replide Morrik.
“It could.” And the dwarf started drumming his fingers on his table, close to a short throwing hammer.

Morrik turn to address the dwarf’s threat, but stopped.  Rua’leen had torn her hand from his grasp and stepped back, her eyes cold and unreadable.

“Your right Morrik we shouldn’t be so formal about how we feel.” She said comely ending in a grin.

The yon man nodded feeling quit pleased with him self.  He return her smile with is own, it would be short lived.

“I feel that you beyond a doubt the most stupid, arrogant, self-loving son of a bitch I have ever had the displeasure of knowing!”

Morrik shock was apparent; his contorted and twitched in a mix of anger and disbelief.  Rua’leen was not done yet and she toke a quick step toward Morrik that sent him back.

“Since the day we met you have stared at me, made rude comments and gestures behind my back, sent me so called invites and even tried to get me drunk.”

Morrik denied her statements. He said “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I was just trying to offer you some company.”

“With spirit laced wine?” Rua’leen continued “Pwent told me that what you had offered last night had more of a kick than it should have.”

“What would that filthy thing know about wine?”

“That thing is my friend as are all the dwarves of the Hall and I would take one word of theirs agents an entire eulogy from you!”

The words brought a resounding response from the dwarves, who began gather and watch the spectacle. “That’s telling em girl!” one shouted, “Throw his ars into the Surbin” another called, “Bah! That would spoil the water, kill all the fish down stream.” Laughed yet another, the jeers went on.

Morrik tried to compose himself; he was, of cores, a higher stander than these dirty dwarves or so he believes. He rubbed the back of his neck in an attempted to seam come but in reality he was on the verged of losing his control. He never had any one talk to him in such a degrading mater and rarely tolerated direct insults.

“My lady,” Morrik finally said, “Perhaps my intensions where a bit selfish, if I could-,”

“Spare me your empty apologies Morrik,” Rua’leen interrupted “They are as hollow as that stone you call a heart and I am tired of your foul company, good day.” Rua’leen turned her back to him and began to walk away.

Logic told Morrik to let it go, but gave it no head. Who was this wench to talk to him like that, to insult him and tell him that this discussion was over?  He reached out and grasped her shoulder to turn her around.

“I’m not finished you half blooded bit-.” He began and was stopped short. Morrik stumbled back two steps clutching his face. He felt the warmth of his blood as it streamed down from his nose and through his fingers.  He looked strait ahead at Rua’leen as she retracted her fist and brought up to her eyes and glanced at the bits of blood on it.

“Mine’s cleaner than yours.” She said.

“You” Morrik said through clenched teeth. How dare you. He continued his thoughts silently and reached for his long sword to teach the woman her placed.  Morrik barely held the hilt when he was surrounded by twelve dwarves, axes, swords, and hammer drawn and ready to descend upon him.
One of the dwarves, with many scares and a thick black beard, came up to him a grim expression on his face.  Morrik knew the dwarf; He was Torgar, one of the dwarves who came from Mirabar to Mithral Hall during the war with Obould and since came to call it home.

The looked strait in Morrik’s eyes and told him “I think good and hard about that if I was you lad.” The dwarf ran his thumb up the blade of his ax, “Real good.”

“Let him draw it.” Came Rua’Leen’s voice and Torgar turned to look at her.  She stood their calm and determined with both swords drawn “Let him draw his weapon if so wants it.” She said again.

Torgar look back to the young human than to The Half-elf once more. After a few moments he stepped aside nodding and bade his fellow dwarves to fallow suit.

“The girl can handle her own troubles best we just keep out and enjoy the show.”

Some where not so sure about the decision, but they knew Torgar and trusted he would step in before she was in any real danger.  They all stepped back to give the two the room. Torgar took one more look at Rua’leen and said “All your lass try not to get too bored.”

“It was a mistake to wave them off.” Morrik said and drew out his sword.

“For one of us” Rua’leen answered back took a defensive posture.

Morrik came in fast with a downward slash that Rua’leen side stepped easily. She then rushed past him smacking the flat of her blade just under his ear as she past.  Morrik leaped and turned from the blow. It hurt, but that was about the most it did, it hurt his pride more. Still facing her, now in opposite positions, he pressed his attack with a series of high slashes and thrust. Rua’leen Parry them little trouble. As fast as he was it was no where near the lightning fast strikes of her father. Even worse for Morrik was that his attacks where so predictable. She saw where each strike came before he even began.
If he was trained by hired swords he should ask for his gold back, She thought as she parries his strikes. The routine went on for only a few moments. Then Morrik broke from it and brought his sword back for a long, high thrust.  Rua’leen saw it was coming, rather than another parry, she toke a short step to his left. Brining her cloak up with her blade, she appeared to be attempting to guide his movement.

Morrik saw this and changed the angel of his sword to counter. His sword went forward, but instead deflecting the blade or moving further left Rua’leen ducked under, turning her other sword in hand she stuck Morrik just under his sternum with the hilt. Only wearing a thick tunic and coat, Morrik stumbled forward to the near by venders table and gasp for air, feeling the full effect of the blow.

Rua’leen had moved an arms length behind him. Tacking a more casual stance started to clean her nails with her blades.

“If this how all you perform at all your skills dear Morrik,” She began with a smirk, “Then I pity any poor woman you some how courted even more.”

Morrik’s rage doubled upon hearing her words and went for a hammer on the table. Rua’leen failed to notice his move until he swung around with the hammer. She had bin to careless, she tried to block, but she did so with damaged sword and the hammer shattered it into pieces and putting her off balance. She instinctively turns her face away from flying shards and Morrik took the advantage and rush her. He struck her with the back hand that sent her falling back to the ground.

Rua’Leen lost her grip on her good sword as she hit the ground and it flew from her right hand. Before she had a chance to recover Morrik was standing over her, hammer gone and sword up high and ready.

“Your mine” He yelled as his weapon came down. The dwarves that where watching tried to rush in, but there was no time for them to stop it’s decent.

What Morrik failed to realize was that he had error.  He stood too low and his stance was too wide. As his sword came down Rua’leen’s foot came up.  She connected first.  Morrik’s mouth open wide yet he had no voice.  His arms still moved, but held no strength.  His hands hold his sword with a limp grasp. He leaned over and could do nothing as Rua’leen caught it with what was left of her other sword and its guard.  She then shoved it back into his left eye and face.  Morrik found his words in light of his new pain.  He stood back up screaming, but only fell over to his right and curled into a fetal position. His sword fell harmlessly to Rua’leen’s side and she stood up watching him warily as she went to retrieve her lost sword.  But there was no need; Morrik lost his desire to fight. He just laid there and moaned in self pity and pain.

Torgar went to Rua’leen to see if she was injured.  Others joined him wile a few looked Morriks way, more to say that he got what was coming to him than to help.

Rua’leen assured her worried friends she was fine and as she saw the one vender she yelled over “Now will you give me a damn sword?”

The humor of her words past quickly as someone callout Morrik’s name. Allen came through the small crowd and approached his cousin. He asks what happen to him, but got his answer when he saw Rua’leen standing with her ruined short sword.

“I’ll kill you for this!” Allen threatens and made a move for his sword.  In blur of movement a cloaked stood in front of Allen with a stare that promised death if he did not cease his actions.

“Take your cousin and leave.” Drizzt said his words cold and emotionless.

Allen could not meat the drow’s gaze.  He advert his eyes from him and stepped back.  He still tried to have the last word.

“My father will hear this,” He stated “We’ll take it strait to Lady Silverhand herself.”

Drizzt did not respond to the threat. He knew better than to play such games with Allen and those like him, their never worth it.  Allen did not press the matter further.

“Come Morrik,” He said “Let us be rid foul place.”

“Yes” Morrik replied, “Foul and cursed, any land to harbor a half-bred harlot is unhallowed and forsaken.”

The dwarves stared to yell and curse at the two as Morrik continued his ranting.

“Woe to any who be with her and her tainted blood, she is as evil and wicked as any of her full blood kin. She belongs in their dark holes, she’s a Witch, a Hag, a Demon.”

The more he continued the more those around him hollered for him leave.  Some just want them gone. Others promised pain with there departure.  Even a few orcs who watched from a distance voiced their displeasure of the two.

Drizzt just watched as they left. Though he appeared come inside he was boiling in rage, but he stayed his hand.  He new that he could kill them both with ease, most here would welcome it.  But that was not who he was.  He would not prove Morrik’s words to be true. Drizzt did worry, though; that Catti-brie who arrived with him would not have such restraint.

Catti-brie physically shook with anger over the word she heard about her daughter. Both her hands were clenched tight and her beautiful blue eyes glared over the two with intense hatred.  It would be so easy for her to cast a spell that would render them to ash or tear their bodies apart limb by limb. Fortuity she did keep herself under control.

When the two finally left, Drizzt turn to address his daughter. He did not like the idea of disciplining her, since he did not know how things transpired here.  Yet he knew he should not let this go by idly. He began to speak but stopped when he saw her face.  She was not seriously hurt, only a few scratches, and despite that she won this fight, she wore a sad, sober expression. She did not look at him, Drizzt knew that something about this got to her badly as tears began to swell in her eyes.

“Return to Mithral Hall, we will talk of this later.” Drizzt finally said.
Rua’leen nodded and quietly walked off.  As she past her father turned her head to him, her lips moved but held no words. Drizzt knew what she said.   “I’m sorry father.”

Rua’leen continued to walk on and as she past her mother she was offered her comforted. She did not accept it, right now in her heart Rua’leen new she did not disserve it and moved on as her mother looked on sadden that their seam nothing she could do help her daughter.

Description
Morrik Firth walked the dirt roads of Stone-Arrow looking at the many stands and vendors that made up most of the small trade post.
The young man was not shopping; he could get far better goods from his father back in Baldur’s Gate. No he was merely wasting time tell his cousin was done with the seasonal talks.  Even though edict required him to attend them as well he did not. He felt that talking with the likes of dwarves and orcs was beneath him.  He would’t have come at all if it was not for another matter.

Up ahead, talking to a one eye dwarf with a brown beard was Rua’leen; the half-drow ranger had caught his interest the first time he was here. His uncle had told him to keep his distance,  that the girl was not worth the trouble she would bring, but Morrik cared little about that.  He was more interested in his brothers back home and the pride of telling them how he bedded a dark elf. They have sailed up and down the sword-coast, seen many exotic land and women but none of them claimed to have such an achievement to boast. He heard tales on what drow women where like and was sure it would not take much.

He tried to be subtle at first but that took to long for him. Then last night when she stayed in stone arrow he tried to use some wine to coxes her to his room at the guest inn, but she insisted agents it. She had claimed that she would leave too early in the morning to partake in such that night. He persisted, but it failed as the most obnoxious dwarf he ever met in squeaky spike armor came up, took the bottle and actually drank the whole thing without so much as being fazed by the potent drink, potent fore it was laced with gin, than thanked him for the little night cap.

That was then, now he plans to be more direct. In the end all women where like horses. They just need to be broken in.

He began to make out the discussion between the two as he neared.
“Can’t you just let one out of your order?” Rua’leen asked showing a short sword in bad condition to the vendor.

“If I start doing that me customers will start thinking I’m not reliable enough to handle any future deals and it would hurt me good name too.” The dwarf replied. “Maybe ye should ask the boys back in the Halls armory about ah new one?”

“I’ve done that and they say that I’m not allowed in until three tendays.”

“That’s too bad, maybe ye done something ye shouldn't have.”
“Like what?” Rua’leen asked, but the dwarf gave only a large toothy grin and shrugged his shoulders.

“How’s about a few new throwing knives I just got in, heard ya been practicing ye’r throw.”

“I was looking for a new sword too.” She added as she placed the near broken blade into the vendor’s table point first and crossed her arms, taking an unimpressed posture.

Morrik came up to right. “It’s a crime the way these dwarves do there business.”

Rua’leen gave him a look but said nothing. “So you can’t help me then?” she asked the dwarf

“I’m fared not.”
She sighed, pulled out her sword and started to walk away. Morrik stepped in front of her.
“You know if mater that much I could get you a new one.”
“No that’s alright, I couldn't–” she began as politely as she could.
“No I inset I’ll even give you lessons.”
“Lessons!” Rua’leen said abruptly with a look of disbelief.
Morrik, misunderstanding her outburst Heft up his sword belt and smiled. “My father provided me with the finest trainers when I was younger, theirs lots I could offer you.”  He took a step closer “A lot I could offer.” He finished with his hand on her shoulder.

Rua’leen wasn’t sure which was worse. That Morrik thought she was so simple a girl or that he was a better swordsman. She looked to his hand, still on her shoulder, then to him. She admit he looked attractive with Light brown hair, blue eyes and a tall average built frame of six foot, but she harbored no feeling for him.  He was pompous, self absorbed, ignorant and those are the nice things she would say about him.

“I’m afraid you don’t understand.” She said as she tried removed his hand.

“Oh I understand dear Rua’leen,” Morrik began saying quietly and gently grabbed her hand.  “You’re old enough to know how things are.” He smiled more coyly, “Why don’t we stop being so formal and discus this some where more privet.”

“I don’t think the lass cares too much for your company.” The dwarf Rua’leen was speaking with said. “It might be best for ya to start stepping away?”

“This dose not concerns you.”Replide Morrik.
“It could.” And the dwarf started drumming his fingers on his table, close to a short throwing hammer.

Morrik turn to address the dwarf’s threat, but stopped.  Rua’leen had torn her hand from his grasp and stepped back, her eyes cold and unreadable.

“Your right Morrik we shouldn’t be so formal about how we feel.” She said comely ending in a grin.

The yon man nodded feeling quit pleased with him self.  He return her smile with is own, it would be short lived.

“I feel that you beyond a doubt the most stupid, arrogant, self-loving son of a bitch I have ever had the displeasure of knowing!”

Morrik shock was apparent; his contorted and twitched in a mix of anger and disbelief.  Rua’leen was not done yet and she toke a quick step toward Morrik that sent him back.

“Since the day we met you have stared at me, made rude comments and gestures behind my back, sent me so called invites and even tried to get me drunk.”

Morrik denied her statements. He said “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I was just trying to offer you some company.”

“With spirit laced wine?” Rua’leen continued “Pwent told me that what you had offered last night had more of a kick than it should have.”

“What would that filthy thing know about wine?”

“That thing is my friend as are all the dwarves of the Hall and I would take one word of theirs agents an entire eulogy from you!”

The words brought a resounding response from the dwarves, who began gather and watch the spectacle. “That’s telling em girl!” one shouted, “Throw his ars into the Surbin” another called, “Bah! That would spoil the water, kill all the fish down stream.” Laughed yet another, the jeers went on.

Morrik tried to compose himself; he was, of cores, a higher stander than these dirty dwarves or so he believes. He rubbed the back of his neck in an attempted to seam come but in reality he was on the verged of losing his control. He never had any one talk to him in such a degrading mater and rarely tolerated direct insults.

“My lady,” Morrik finally said, “Perhaps my intensions where a bit selfish, if I could-,”

“Spare me your empty apologies Morrik,” Rua’leen interrupted “They are as hollow as that stone you call a heart and I am tired of your foul company, good day.” Rua’leen turned her back to him and began to walk away.

Logic told Morrik to let it go, but gave it no head. Who was this wench to talk to him like that, to insult him and tell him that this discussion was over?  He reached out and grasped her shoulder to turn her around.

“I’m not finished you half blooded bit-.” He began and was stopped short. Morrik stumbled back two steps clutching his face. He felt the warmth of his blood as it streamed down from his nose and through his fingers.  He looked strait ahead at Rua’leen as she retracted her fist and brought up to her eyes and glanced at the bits of blood on it.

“Mine’s cleaner than yours.” She said.

“You” Morrik said through clenched teeth. How dare you. He continued his thoughts silently and reached for his long sword to teach the woman her placed.  Morrik barely held the hilt when he was surrounded by twelve dwarves, axes, swords, and hammer drawn and ready to descend upon him.
One of the dwarves, with many scares and a thick black beard, came up to him a grim expression on his face.  Morrik knew the dwarf; He was Torgar, one of the dwarves who came from Mirabar to Mithral Hall during the war with Obould and since came to call it home.

The looked strait in Morrik’s eyes and told him “I think good and hard about that if I was you lad.” The dwarf ran his thumb up the blade of his ax, “Real good.”

“Let him draw it.” Came Rua’Leen’s voice and Torgar turned to look at her.  She stood their calm and determined with both swords drawn “Let him draw his weapon if so wants it.” She said again.

Torgar look back to the young human than to The Half-elf once more. After a few moments he stepped aside nodding and bade his fellow dwarves to fallow suit.

“The girl can handle her own troubles best we just keep out and enjoy the show.”

Some where not so sure about the decision, but they knew Torgar and trusted he would step in before she was in any real danger.  They all stepped back to give the two the room. Torgar took one more look at Rua’leen and said “All your lass try not to get too bored.”

“It was a mistake to wave them off.” Morrik said and drew out his sword.

“For one of us” Rua’leen answered back took a defensive posture.

Morrik came in fast with a downward slash that Rua’leen side stepped easily. She then rushed past him smacking the flat of her blade just under his ear as she past.  Morrik leaped and turned from the blow. It hurt, but that was about the most it did, it hurt his pride more. Still facing her, now in opposite positions, he pressed his attack with a series of high slashes and thrust. Rua’leen Parry them little trouble. As fast as he was it was no where near the lightning fast strikes of her father. Even worse for Morrik was that his attacks where so predictable. She saw where each strike came before he even began.
If he was trained by hired swords he should ask for his gold back, She thought as she parries his strikes. The routine went on for only a few moments. Then Morrik broke from it and brought his sword back for a long, high thrust.  Rua’leen saw it was coming, rather than another parry, she toke a short step to his left. Brining her cloak up with her blade, she appeared to be attempting to guide his movement.

Morrik saw this and changed the angel of his sword to counter. His sword went forward, but instead deflecting the blade or moving further left Rua’leen ducked under, turning her other sword in hand she stuck Morrik just under his sternum with the hilt. Only wearing a thick tunic and coat, Morrik stumbled forward to the near by venders table and gasp for air, feeling the full effect of the blow.

Rua’leen had moved an arms length behind him. Tacking a more casual stance started to clean her nails with her blades.

“If this how all you perform at all your skills dear Morrik,” She began with a smirk, “Then I pity any poor woman you some how courted even more.”

Morrik’s rage doubled upon hearing her words and went for a hammer on the table. Rua’leen failed to notice his move until he swung around with the hammer. She had bin to careless, she tried to block, but she did so with damaged sword and the hammer shattered it into pieces and putting her off balance. She instinctively turns her face away from flying shards and Morrik took the advantage and rush her. He struck her with the back hand that sent her falling back to the ground.

Rua’Leen lost her grip on her good sword as she hit the ground and it flew from her right hand. Before she had a chance to recover Morrik was standing over her, hammer gone and sword up high and ready.

“Your mine” He yelled as his weapon came down. The dwarves that where watching tried to rush in, but there was no time for them to stop it’s decent.

What Morrik failed to realize was that he had error.  He stood too low and his stance was too wide. As his sword came down Rua’leen’s foot came up.  She connected first.  Morrik’s mouth open wide yet he had no voice.  His arms still moved, but held no strength.  His hands hold his sword with a limp grasp. He leaned over and could do nothing as Rua’leen caught it with what was left of her other sword and its guard.  She then shoved it back into his left eye and face.  Morrik found his words in light of his new pain.  He stood back up screaming, but only fell over to his right and curled into a fetal position. His sword fell harmlessly to Rua’leen’s side and she stood up watching him warily as she went to retrieve her lost sword.  But there was no need; Morrik lost his desire to fight. He just laid there and moaned in self pity and pain.

Torgar went to Rua’leen to see if she was injured.  Others joined him wile a few looked Morriks way, more to say that he got what was coming to him than to help.

Rua’leen assured her worried friends she was fine and as she saw the one vender she yelled over “Now will you give me a damn sword?”

The humor of her words past quickly as someone callout Morrik’s name. Allen came through the small crowd and approached his cousin. He asks what happen to him, but got his answer when he saw Rua’leen standing with her ruined short sword.

“I’ll kill you for this!” Allen threatens and made a move for his sword.  In blur of movement a cloaked stood in front of Allen with a stare that promised death if he did not cease his actions.

“Take your cousin and leave.” Drizzt said his words cold and emotionless.

Allen could not meat the drow’s gaze.  He advert his eyes from him and stepped back.  He still tried to have the last word.

“My father will hear this,” He stated “We’ll take it strait to Lady Silverhand herself.”

Drizzt did not respond to the threat. He knew better than to play such games with Allen and those like him, their never worth it.  Allen did not press the matter further.

“Come Morrik,” He said “Let us be rid foul place.”

“Yes” Morrik replied, “Foul and cursed, any land to harbor a half-bred harlot is unhallowed and forsaken.”

The dwarves stared to yell and curse at the two as Morrik continued his ranting.

“Woe to any who be with her and her tainted blood, she is as evil and wicked as any of her full blood kin. She belongs in their dark holes, she’s a Witch, a Hag, a Demon.”

The more he continued the more those around him hollered for him leave.  Some just want them gone. Others promised pain with there departure.  Even a few orcs who watched from a distance voiced their displeasure of the two.

Drizzt just watched as they left. Though he appeared come inside he was boiling in rage, but he stayed his hand.  He new that he could kill them both with ease, most here would welcome it.  But that was not who he was.  He would not prove Morrik’s words to be true. Drizzt did worry, though; that Catti-brie who arrived with him would not have such restraint.

Catti-brie physically shook with anger over the word she heard about her daughter. Both her hands were clenched tight and her beautiful blue eyes glared over the two with intense hatred.  It would be so easy for her to cast a spell that would render them to ash or tear their bodies apart limb by limb. Fortuity she did keep herself under control.

When the two finally left, Drizzt turn to address his daughter. He did not like the idea of disciplining her, since he did not know how things transpired here.  Yet he knew he should not let this go by idly. He began to speak but stopped when he saw her face.  She was not seriously hurt, only a few scratches, and despite that she won this fight, she wore a sad, sober expression. She did not look at him, Drizzt knew that something about this got to her badly as tears began to swell in her eyes.

“Return to Mithral Hall, we will talk of this later.” Drizzt finally said.
Rua’leen nodded and quietly walked off.  As she past her father turned her head to him, her lips moved but held no words. Drizzt knew what she said.   “I’m sorry father.”

Rua’leen continued to walk on and as she past her mother she was offered her comforted. She did not accept it, right now in her heart Rua’leen new she did not disserve it and moved on as her mother looked on sadden that their seam nothing she could do help her daughter.