Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Legend Of Zelda Fan Fiction / Devil May Cry - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Knights of the Realms ❯ Ch 8 - Secret ( Chapter 8 )

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

 

 

Secret

 

 

 

 

“Durned elf!”

 

Cattie-brie looked up from the book she had been reading as her father came through the door of the hall. The surly dwarf grumbled all the way to the chair next to her, and silently fumed as he sat. He didn't pick up a book, didn't reach for pen or parchment, even waved away the ale that servers brought. He just fumed, and kept glancing at her.

 

Cattie-brie went back to her reading.

 

“Well, aren't ye going te ask me what's wrong?” asked the dwarf after a few minutes.

 

“I figured I'd let ye sputter yerself out, but that seemed to be futile,” she said as she set aside her book. “What's wrong?”

 

“That durned elf, that's what!”

 

“I gathered that much. What has Drizzt done to earn your ire this time?”

 

“Bah! It's what he won't do that's got me angered!” yelled the dwarf, his face turning red. “He says he won't be marryin' ye soon. Says the people would think it queer. Bah!” he yelled again, throwing his hands up.

 

Cattie-brie studied her father, Bruenor Battlehammer, last in the line of Gandalug Battlehammer and King of Mithral Hall. He had found Cattie-brie when she was just a babe, in the wild tundra of Icewind Dale. She was lying amidst the ruins of her family's cart, what may or may not have been her parents lying strewn about. He took her back to his home, and she had been his daughter ever since.

 

Years later, when the dwarves joined forces with the militia of Ten Towns to stave off a barbarian raid, he had captured a young barbarian boy. The boy was kept as prisoner in the dwarven halls, but was treated as any other dwarf. He was trained as a blacksmith, apprenticed to Bruenor himself. In time, Bruenor came to love the boy, and he soon found that he had another adopted child.

 

If any dwarf knew the hardships of cross-species relationships, it was Bruenor.

 

If there was any dwarf that exemplified the races trademark stubbornness, it was Bruenor.

 

“We're just being cautious, Bruenor. Not everyone is as trusting of Drizzt as those around Mithral Hall yet. Most people still see him as just a drow. How do you think they'd react to a half human, half drow child?” She looked pointedly at him.

 

“Why, they should feel good, having a young'un like that around. Ye and the elf would make sure he knew what was right agin' what's wrong, and the young'un'd be capable of defending what he should.” Cattie-brie's face went suddenly white. “What're ye goin' all pale fer, girl?”

 

“I just had a horrible thought.” Bruenor waited for her to go on. “The child would be raised here, yes?”

 

“Aye…I don't quite see where ye're goin' with this.”

 

“Name some of the people that would want to ensure that the child was raised properly.”

 

“Well, there's me, the elf and yerself, Wulfgar, Rumblebelly, Pwent and his bo—“ Bruenor stopped. Bruenor went pale. “P-Pwent and his boys…”

 

Thibledorf Pwent was a dwarf of a special breed. He and his boys called themselves Gutbusters, and with good reason. They went into battle fully armored, unlike conventional dwarf warfare. The armor served to protect them, but the addition of jagged spikes all over added an offensive point to the armor. The Gutbuster battle tactic was to throw themselves onto an enemy and start to shake. Gutbuster training involved running headfirst, helmetless, into a stone wall. The Gutbuster drink was taken as a deterant to any known poison from the body.

 

“I'll unnerstand if ye hold off fer a while, girl,” Bruenor said after a while. Both father and daughter were a bit shaken by the image of a young half elf bashing it's head repeatedly against a stone wall, determined to break through it with only it's head.

 

“Bruenor!”

 

He looked up at the dwarf that burst through the doors. “Corneo? I thought I'd sent you down to Settlestone with Drizzt.”

 

“Aye, ye did, yer Highness.” Corneo Muffinhead paused to catch his breath. “ We came across two travelers, and before anything could happen, Drizzt had one at sword point and Guenhwyvar was ready to pounce on the other.”

 

Bruenor blinked. “He called out the cat?”

 

Corneo nodded. “Aye. Then Drizzt sent me back here, telling me to bring back yerself and the others.”

 

“Thank ye, Corneo, for being quick about it,” said Cattie-brie.

 

Bruenor was already stomping off down the corridor. “Wulfgar! Rumblebelly! We gotta go rescue that durned elf agin! Where in the nine hells is my axe!?”

 

 

Drizzt pressed the tip of his scimitar a little harder against the man's chest. “I will

ask you again. Where did you get that sword?”

 

“He already told you!” said a small, yet highly annoyed voice. “He won it in a competition!” Guenhwyvar growled at the speaker, the yellow fairy Tatl, and she quickly retreated back under Link's cap.

 

“It's okay, Tatl,” the Drifter said calmly. “We will wait here until his friends arrive. We came in peace, and peace is what we will keep.”

 

Drizzt smiled, but kept his blade unwavering. “Smart words. Don't let them move, Guen.” The panther settled back a little further on its haunches, bared its fangs a little more. Link, for his part, was trying his very best to be the picture of non-aggressiveness. Hands up, and with a grin that was meant to be disarming—which instead just looked ridiculous—he tried to send a silent message to the six hundred pounds of feline muscle and claw that he didn't taste good.

 

“Do I hear a bear coming this way?” asked Navi after a few minutes. Link and the other fairy then picked up the sounds of something lumbering heavily through the brush. Link wanted to cry. Why did he have such terrible luck with all animals? Everything wanted to kill him. This panther was no different, and now a bear. He was safe with horses and chicke—he was safe with horses. There was a reason why he loved Lon Lon ranch so much.

 

“No, that would be a dwarf,” Drizzt said with some resignation. As if on cue, Bruenor tumbled out of the brush to land rather undignified, yet rather dwarf-like, a few feet to the right of Drizzt.

 

“All right, elf,” grumbled Bruenor as he got on his feet. “What mess am I havin' te get ye out of, this time?” He looked at the travelers. “Well? What's ye're secret?”

 

“No trouble as of yet,”said the drow ranger, “but if my suspicions prove true, there very well could be.”

 

“Well then explain yerself. If'n ye be wrong, then ye've got some apologizing to be doing to these travelers here,” Cattie-brie said as she stepped into the scene, with Wulfgar and Corneo close behind, Regis upon one of Wulfgars' wide shoulders.

 

“Why don't we start by getting their names?” voiced the Halfling from his perch.

 

“Good idea, Rumblebelly,” Bruenor said, turning to the travelers. “Well, tell us yer bloody names!”

 

“I am the Drifter, good King Bruenor, and my companion is Link, of the Kingdom of Hyrule. With him are his two fairy friends, Navi and Tatl,” the Drifter explained, nodding his head ever so slightly and slowly, as not to give Drizzt any reason to pierce his throat.

 

“Ah, so ye've heard o' me!” exclaimed a pleased Bruenor, puffing his chest out a bit further.

 

“Aye, King of Mithral Hall, last in the line of Gandalug Battlehammer, I've heard much about you, as well as the other Companions of the Hall.”

 

“I've never heard of this Kingdom called Hyrule,” interjected Wulfgar. “Does it lie to the south, past Calimport?”

 

Tatl giggled a little, and Navi sighed. “Not quite.”

 

“Indeed, King Bruenor,” intoned the Drifter, “the well being of Hyrule is one of the reasons why we've ventured here today.” He looked at Drizzt as he finished, and the

ranger felt…something. Familiarity? Recognition? Fear?

 

Wulfgar was confused. “Then why come so far to seek council from a King that has no knowledge of your kingdom at all? Seems foolhardy,” reasoned Wulfgar, narrowing his eyes slightly. “And a bit suspicious. I notice your lack of banner, let alone a traditional recruitment escort.”

 

“Because, Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, Mithral Hall, as well as Settlestone, Ten Towns, Silverymoon, Waterdeep—indeed the entire Realm of Fearun—lies in the same path of destruction that Hyrule does.”

 

“So he's come as a herald,” said Regis.

 

“Think you can call off the panther now?” asked Tatl.

 

Drizzt stayed stoic. “No. None of that told my why you have that sword.”

 

“This is over a sword?” asked the confused dwarf. “Are ye telling me that those two ye've got there, the same two that've saved me and me own more times'n I be caring to count, aren't good enough for ye?!” roared Bruenor, both surprised and angered at the drow's apparent greed.

 

Drizzt frowned, a little hurt that Bruenor would think that. “No! Twinkle and Icingdeath are both better blades than I could ever hope for. No, I do not wish this sword for myself or any that I hold dear. This man has Khazid'dae.” The drow's companions all drew in a collective breath.

 

Khazid'dae, Cutter in Common Tongue, was a sentient sword with a strong willed mind and a keen edge. The blade would sheer stone and steel as if it were soft butter, providing an almost unblockable offense. But the sword was also controlling. It desired only to be held by the most apt swordsman, alive or dead, and to bathe in blood, friend and foe alike to the wielder. It tried to dominate the mind of any that it saw fit to hold it, always changing it's hilt to mirror the personality of the intended victim, to make itself more appealing. Drizzt had recently lost the blade in the middle of an orc army after a fierce battle with the then orc warlord, Obould Many-Arrows.

 

The Drifter's eyes lit with sudden understanding. “I am embarrassed that I didn't explain sooner. Indeed, the detail slipped from my mind all together.” The Drifter nodded his head again, this time in apology. “It is indeed a sword you are sensing, Drizzt, and a sentient one that seeks to claim your mind at that. However, this is most assuredly not Khazid'dae.”

 

“How can ye be sure?” asked Cattie-brie, who had used the evil blade the longest. “Sure, it doesn't look the same, but that sword could change it's hilt.”

 

“I am very sure,” said the Drifter. “Tell me, Drizzt, can you feel anything different about the pull of this blade than that of Khazid'dae?

 

“What kind of question is that!?” blustered Bruenor. “A sword is a sword! Swords ain't supposed to have thoughts anyways, so how could they be that different!?”

 

The Drifter's question actually made Drizzt examine the pull he felt from the blade. “It…it's more…feminine,” he said after a while, adding to the confusion of everyone.

 

“Yes,” said the Drifter.

 

“How can a sword be masculine or feminine?” asked Wulfgar.

 

“Simple,” the Drifter said. “This sword is my mother.”

 

Something about the way he said it, something in his eyes, made Drizzt believe him. He slowly withdrew Twinkle from the Drifter's throat, and stood back, re-evaluating the man. “I believe him. You can let them relax, now, Guen.” The panther slowly edged off, never taking it's eyes off Link. There was no longer anything threatening in those eyes, but Link nonetheless felt far from relaxed. The fairies shared his uneasiness.

 

“It's like if someone actually had a pet wolfos,” Tatl whispered in his ear. “They might call it off, but you're still edible.”

 

“Are ye sure, Drizzt?” asked Cattie-brie anxiously. She trusted the drow implicitly, yet she couldn't shake the memories of just how domineering the blade could be.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well then,” said Bruenor. “Now that that's outa the way, what was that about Mithral Hall lyin' in danger?” The dwarven King laughed. “Look around ye! The elf may've killed the King orc scum, but the army's still here! We ain't outa the clear yet, oh no! And if you think I'm gonna be sending out me boys to go fight some war in some Kingdom I aint' ever heard tell of, ye've got another thing coming!”

 

The Drifter raised his hands to calm the raging dwarf. “Be at ease, Bruenor King. We did not come seeking an army. You noticed earlier, Wulfgar, our lack of banner. We do not travel in the name of one nation, god, or king. Link is the chosen representative—the champion of Hyrule, if you will—that fights for his Kingdom. We seek to gather a small band of such fighters to quell this threat before it escalates. We were hoping to find the fourth member of our troupe here.”

 

Bruenor looked sidelong at Link. “This young'uns be the best that place's got to offer? `Twixt ye'n'me, he don't look like much.”

 

The Drifter smiled. “Looks can be deceiving, Bruenor Battlehammer. I've been watching Link for a long, long time.”

 

“Yeah? And what's so special about `im?”

 

The Drifter got a faraway look in his eyes, like he was reliving a lifetime's worth of experiences. “Every legend has its hero. But not every hero has its own legend.”

 

The Companions and Corneo all turned to look at Link, hoping for an explanation of some kind. Link returned their confused stares, not quite sure what the Drifter was talking about, either.

 

“Fourth member? Then where is the third?” asked Drizzt.

 

“Hopefully convincing another prospective warrior to join as the fifth,” he said confidently. And he was confident. The monster would be killed and the fifth member recruited. Dante might have a roundabout way of doing things, but he did get the job done.