Fathers and Sons

Chapter One

Note: This story is not canon, but it takes place roughly about ten years before the events of The Hobbit (movie verse) and at the end of the book "Exile" in the Dark Elf trilogy.

Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own The Hobbit or the Forgotten Realms works and this work is solely for enjoyment!

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"We had to flee to the ends of the Earth, my son," Drizzt didn't doubt Zaknafein's words, but neither of them understood where it was that they had fled to. Neither of them suspected that they might be in another land altogether and that Faerun itself may be far behind them.

All around them was the thick scent of decay and rot as they took in their surroundings. They had come up through the Underdark and found themselves in the middle of a thick, dense forest. So thick, it blocked out the light of the sun making it much easier for drow eyes to adjust to the dim light.

After Zaknafein had won his mind back from Malice, expelling her permanently, he and Drizzt both knew they had to run. They knew Malice would pursue them as long as she could. But when their course brought them up, ascending to the surface as few drow had ever done, they both began to reconsider their path. Neither of them knew where they were. Neither of them had even seen a forest.

Yet here they were, on the surface. Between them, only Drizzt had seen the surface, when he had gone on the raid against the surface elves, but his visit was brief and marred by the trauma of the carnage he had witnessed at the hands of his own kind.

"Come," Zaknafein bid and he started walking through the trees. Drizzt obediently followed after him, walking close to his father, though his senses were on high alert in this strange world.

Drizzt wondered what sorts of creatures could inhabit a place like this. Would he encounter elves? He had been fascinated by his surface cousins ever since the raid. When he got to see them, carefree and enchanting, their song to the moon above was mesmerizing. Their voices still echoed in his head even though it had been well over ten years since that fateful day.

Now, here he was again, on the surface. This time, with his father. They were together again, united though Malice's evil magic had been responsible for raising Zaknafein from death. Her purpose had been to send him after Drizzt, to kill him. But Zaknafein proved stronger and won his mind back. Now he was free, they were both free.

"The air is thick," Drizzt commented as he inhaled the humid air of the dense forest. The stench of decay permeated and it felt like they were breathing soup.

Ahead, Zaknafein stopped moving, his sensitive ears tuning towards the path before them. "I think I hear the rush of water," he said. "This way."

Drizzt followed. He trusted his father's judgment. He had been on his own, living in the wilderness of the Underdark for ten years. But now, he could rely on the much older drow he knew would never betray him.

Drizzt was young, in his 40s, which for an elf, was still a juvenile in mind. But his childhood and youth had been robbed long ago by the evilness of the society in which he grew up. And then, by the need to survive in the Underdark.

Sure enough, as they walked, they came upon a river, its banks flowing lazily with water. The waters were dark and murky, thick with sediment. Curious, Drizzt knelt and reached to put a finger in the water, but Zaknafein's hand clamping on his shoulder stopped him.

"I do not trust this place," Zaknfein explained, standing over him as he surveyed the trees wearily. "Don't drink it."

Drizzt glanced at the water again, hesitantly. He was thirsty. The thick humid air sapped the moisture from his body. But he listened to Zaknafein and stood up, just as a rustling sound caught both of their attention.