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“All my life, I have been searching for a home," the drow said quietly. "All my life, I have been wanting more than that which was offered to me, more than Menzoberranzan, more than friends who stood beside me out of personal gain. I always thought home would be a place, and indeed it is, but not in any physical sense. It is a place in here," Drizzt said, putting a hand to his heart and turning back to look upon his companions. "It is a feeling given by true friends. I know this now, and know that I am home." "But ye're off to Carradoon," Cattie-brie said softly. "And so're we!" Bruenor bellowed. Drizzt smiled at them, laughed aloud. "If circumstances will not allow me to remain at home," the ranger said firmly, "then I will simply take my home with me!”

“Drizzt looked long and hard at the young woman, tje dedicated warrior, and he understood that Danica, too, had been forced into a great sacrifice because of Cadderly's choice. He sensed an anger within her, but it was buried deep. overwhelmed by her love for this man and her admiration for his sacrifice. Catti-brie didn't miss any of it. She, who had lost her love, surely empathized with Danica, and yet, she knew that the woman was undeserving of any sympathy. In those few sentences of explanation, in the presence of Cadderly and of Danica, and within the halls of this most reverent of structures, Catti-broe understood that to give sympathy to Danica would belittle the sacrifice, would diminish what Cadderly had accomplished in exchange for his years.”

“A bedraggled and thoroughly frustrated Catti-brie entered her chambers much later to find her husband dancing with their little girl. Or maybe they were training. Drizzt did a broad jump. Brie hopped, both feet off the ground. She touched down lightly and sprang again, and a third time, which put her up beside her father. “You,” Drizzt said. Brie laughed. She jumped up as high as she could and turned in midair. She got about a quarter of the way around before she ran out of air beneath her, thumping down and holding her balance. Drizzt leaped up gracefully and spun about, a full spin, landing and dropping into a squat that put his face right before that of his giggling daughter. “You!” she said. Up sprang Drizzt, executing a backflip that landed him on his feet, but only momentarily, as he plopped down on his butt before Brie with a surprised look on his face. Brie laughed and went up as if to jump, but didn’t leave the ground at all, and instead just fell back to a sitting position facing her father. The two broke out in laughter. “Boom!” said Drizzt. “Boo boo!” said Brie.”

“He watched Brie splashing in a small side pool while he filled his waterskins. He marveled at the simple joy in her eyes. He wanted to keep that joy of life itself there forever. More than anything, he wanted his daughter to grow up strong and clever and full of confidence, and full even more with happiness. He never wanted her to lose her delight at the simplest things: the sun-dappled earth, the splash of water over stones, the sounds of the forest about her, the shapes of the clouds. “What’s my name?” he called to her. “Drizzy daddy!” she enthusiastically called back.”

“Drizzt was next down the slide, chased by Catti-brie and Breezy, with the little girl barely able to see under the brim of the one-horned helm she had stolen from her grandfather. It was all so simple, so gloriously play, just play. These were the moments, Drizzt realized then, as Catti-brie had come to know on a day very similar to this one. And as with his wife, for Drizzt, it was a reminder, not an epiphany. This simple little play was what made life worth it.”

“Pops Zak!” Breezy said, and Drizzt laughed with joy. “Oh, by the gods,” Catti-brie lamented. “What?” Drizzt and Jarlaxle asked in unison. “When this one witnesses cazzcalci,” she said, looking pointedly at Drizzt, “we’ll never get him back home.” “Maybe he’ll already be at home,” Jarlaxle offered. “I take my home with me,” Drizzt said, ending the debate. Catti-brie hugged him, their daughter wrapping her arms around them both, completing the circle.”

“He bore in, slashing and stabbing, leaping into a circle kick that caught a gnoll in the chest and sent it flying aside. He landed in a low crouch beneath a sweeping short spear, then sprang up behind that cut, scimitar going out wide to stab a gnoll charging in from the side, left palm coming up under the snout of the spear-wielder—and with such force that it lifted the three-hundred-pound gnoll right up and over the barricade.”

“Drizzt chuckled, but felt a pang within that honest laughter. This was the childhood he had never experienced, the carefree creation of giggles that too few got to enjoy. He wished he had played this game with Zaknafein, though he couldn’t even imagine the possibility of any such playfulness with his mother, Malice. Such a waste of life itself, he thought, given what he knew now, what Kimmuriel had helped the priestess Yvonnel and Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre reveal of the hopeful beginnings of Menzoberranzan before it had descended into its current, joyless reality. Before the way of Lolth, where the tension and excitement of chaos swirled away the pleasures of simplicity and love.”

“I do not know how high the ladder of evil deeds such truth climbs, honestly. I have seen wicked dictators of every species and culture to match the vileness of the most zealous Lolthian priestess. I have witnessed truly evil people, from dwarfs to halflings to humans to elves to drow, and everything in between and every species or culture only a bit removed. So perhaps there are some individuals who have within them a natural evil. Or perhaps even with them, even with the most wicked, like Matron Zhindia Melarn or the magistrates of Luskan’s carnival, who torture accused criminals with such glee, there were steps in the earlier days of their personal journey which corrupted them and brought them to their present state. That is a question that I doubt will ever show an answer, nor is that answer truly the most important factor, for in the present, in the moment, in their own actions, these folk, as with us all, bear responsibility.”

“It is hardly just the matrons and their priestesses, though. As this has sorted, there seem many more against our revolution than for it.” “For many reasons, though,” Zak reminded. “Fear of their matrons and of Lolth, of course. Or simply fear of this unknown future the Baenres have offered. They know the way it’s been, for the entirety their lives, even for those whose lives have spanned centuries. They know their place within that truth. They know the boundaries, the lines not to cross, the acts that give them gain and those that offer only pain. What do they know of this promised world beyond Lolth, particularly when it, too, from their perspective at least, will be under the designs of House Baenre?”

“We all have within us a level of tumult, a vibration in our hearts, our minds, our very souls, which we are most comfortable with as “normal.” Like a pebble dropped into still water, that tumult is a result of drama, of conflict in mind or body or both. This sense of normalcy is taught very young, and refined as we become fully reasoning beings. The curse lies in not understanding it. In its most extreme circumstances, I have seen it in myself, or in King Bruenor, surely, when we both grew uneasy, itchy even, as we created about us an environment of peace and comfort. “Ah, to the road!” was our common call to action, even when action wasn’t needed. Because the vibrations, the inner conflict, was needed for us to feel normal.”