Warning: suicidal thoughts
"He's been moaning and turning and twisting," the guards informed Breunor as he and Regis stood outside the dungeon with General Dagna. Regis listened to the report with interest. He had been curious about this drow prisoner and had come to the dungeon to finally satisfy that curiosity. "And when he's awake, all he does is pace back and forth. He don't eat much of what we give him."
"Has he given us any more information?" Breunor asked in a disinterested tone that made Regis regard the dwarf king with concern. "I'm not for keeping him if he's not proving his worth."
Regis winced inwardly at the callous attitude. Breunor was slipping back into the depression he had been enveloped in since Wulfgar's death and his disregard for the reports of this drow's suffering was disheartening to the Halfling.
"Surely he should be given a chance," Regis spoke up, trying to prompt the dwarf king back to his usual self. "This is Drizzt's brother after all."
"Blood don't mean nothing to those pointy eared dogs," Dagna pointed out, the general standing beside the king looking resolved.
Regis expected such prejudices from Dagna. He had always had a mistrust of anyone who wasn't a dwarf. But when he found Breunor nodding in agreement, the Halfling was disheartened. He understood that the king might be looking for some chance at revenge for the death of the barbarian he considered a son, and even though this particular drow hadn't raised the killing blow; to Breunor, he was just as guilty.
"Maybe I could spend some time with him," Regis suggested openly. "Before you make any decisions about him."
"What do ye think that will get ye, Rumblebelly?" Breunor asked. "Don't ye remember the stories Drizzt told ye about that one? His past deeds speak of his nature."
"But now he's lost everything," Regis argued, waving his fists in the air angrily. He surprised himself by how passionate his argument was. He had come to the dungeon only to satisfy his curiosity, but now found himself even more determined that there must be some good in this drow. Maybe it made him sound naive to the dwarves, maybe it would prove to be a hopeless endeavour in the end, but he had to try.
"Should be put down," Dagna commented. Regis ignored the grumpy general and turned his attention to Breunor, to his friend, to perhaps the only friend he had left if Drizzt and Catti-brie never returned.
"You don't know until you try," he said slowly and deliberately, his gaze unblinking as he held Breunor's gaze. "I believe that Drizzt will come back to us and when he does, he will want to know how we treated his brother. Killing him off before you even give him a chance, that's something a dark elf would do."
Breunor's wince told Regis he'd struck a chord with the comparison. And it was then that Regis realized he wanted to do this, not only to help Drizzt's brother, but to help Breunor. He couldn't let the dwarf king slip so far into his state of depression and grief that he couldn't come back, and brutally murdering a helpless prisoner would be a stain that could never be erased. He refused to let Breunor cross that line.
"Fine, Rumblebelly," Breunor acquiesced. "He's yer charge. I'll give ye a chance, but if there's no helping that one, yer to stand aside and let us be on with it."
With that, Breunor and Dagna turned and headed off. Regis turned to the door and took in a breath. This drow's life was in his hands. He wondered then what he was getting himself into.
**
Dinin craved blood. He needed it, he needed to fight, to kill. He had killed many dwarves but no matter how many he consumed, he still needed more.
And he wanted to die. He had hoped that the dwarves would finish him, to take away the pain he was in...
"No!!" Dinin shot up, the sound of his own pained voice roused him from the fitful sleep he had been in.
The drow took a deep breath to calm his beating heart. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he found himself lying on the floor in his cell, having rolled right off the bench in his sleep.
"Why do I live?" he groaned as he covered his face with his hands. It was a question he had pondered over and over during this time in his cell.
"Do you truly want to die then?" Dinin hadn't expected a response to his lament and when he glanced at the door of his cell, he regarded the curious little being standing just beyond the bars, peering at him.
Dinin felt embarrassed. What a pathetic sight he must appear to this creature. He thought he had been alone and he was irritated that in his pitiful laments, he had failed to hear the approach of this being. He regarded the person for a moment, a short being whose small frame told Dinin he was not a dwarf.
"What are you?" he muttered angrily as he slowly picked himself off the ground and sat down on the bench, resting his elbows on his legs as he composed himself.
"Ah, well I'm surprised you've never heard of a Halfling before," the creature pointed out, speaking in the dwarfish tongue. "We can be found in many places, but especially where the food is plentiful." To emphasize the last statement, the halfling patted his protruding belly.
"I am not as familiar with the surface as my brother is," Dinin pointed out sarcastically, not hiding his distaste of his brother. "I have rarely had cause to venture far from Menzoberranzan."
"I see," the Halfling responded. "Well, you can call me Regis. I call Drizzt my closest friend. He has told me about Menzoberranzan, about life as a drow, I have to say it doesn't sound pleasant."
"Drizzt knows nothing about the drow," Dinin scoffed, his burgundy eyes flaring with rage boiling just below his outwardly calm demeanor. "He was young when he betrayed his own family and turned his back on us. He experienced only a small fraction of what it is to be a drow. He is still young and arrogant. And foolish."
Regis gave the imprisoned drow an insightful smirk. "I see," he said, wagging a finger knowingly at Dinin. "Jealous are we? Jealous of Drizzt?"
It was all Dinin could do to resist the urge to fly across the small distance between them, reach his arm out and strangle the impertinent halfling. And he made sure the venomous glare he gave him conveyed how dangerous a course he was following by provoking him.
"I have killed for less," he warned as if his glare wasn't enough of a warning.
"Oh, I'm sure you have," Regis responded, casually waving him off. "And I can see by the way your body twitches every time I mention Drizzt that my observation is spot on. You look like him, you know? Your brother. Save for the eyes, of course. Maybe you are more like him than you care to admit."
Dinin tore across the cell and slammed a fist into the metal bars, the impact of the force causing them to ring out as they vibrated. Regis only stepped back, slightly out of the drow's reach and crossed his arms across his chest smugly.
"I am nothing like him!" Dinin exclaimed furiously. "I am the elder boy of House Do'Urden! A once proud and powerful house now destroyed! And it is all Drizzt's fault! All of it!"
Everything was Drizzt's fault Dinin reiterated to himself. He withdrew from the metal bars and began pacing back and forth. He hadn't meant to speak his thoughts aloud, but the words came tumbling out anyway. All the pain, all the misery he had suffered, it was all because of his younger brother.
"I was the most loyal," he shouted as the emotions coursed through him. "I served my house. And where has it ever gotten me? Drizzt single-handedly brought on the destruction of our house. His deeds left me a homeless, houseless rogue dependent on the mercy of the Bregan D'aerthe. And Vierna's insane obsession with revenge after him led to my punishment! He's to blame for that too!"
Dinin realized how much of his grief he had unleashed to his captives and he felt embarrassed for his own outburst. He took a deep breath and returned to his bench, sitting down and raking his fingers through his long hair, trying to deny his descent into emotional turmoil as feelings that he had long held in were laid out to bare.
A quiet descended between them as Dinin worked to compose himself. He still wanted to throttle the halfling, to punish him for making him feel this way. He wanted nothing more to grab him by the neck and squeeze the life out of him.
It was Regis who spoke first. "You were born first, perhaps you have a few decades on Drizzt, yet you have always lived in his shadow," Dinin lifted his eyes as the halfling's observations struck to his very core. "You were trained by the same Zaknafein, went to the same academy, yet he excelled. His prowess in combat far exceeds your own and even now that he is a renegade, his name is known in Menzoberranzan, and indeed much of the surface world. But no one knows or cares for Dinin Do'Urden. Not even his own family."
Dinin's felt as though he was being slapped across the face. It felt as though this halfling was mocking him with the truth. Dinin had always been jealous of Drizzt. It was more true than he cared to admit. And why shouldn't he be? He had done everything to please Malice, to please Vierna, to please Lotth, and Drizzt had betrayed his own people. And Drizzt had been rewarded with this life while DInin had been transformed into a drider!
Memory of the hideous creature made him shudder. He had lost everything, even his dignity. How low could his life possibly get?
In his misery one thought pushed through his emotions and he gazed across the distance to Regis, regarding him curiously. How could this being be so perceptive to have cracked open Dinin's heart and soul and dug inside to his deepest core? What gave him this ability? He thought of Drizzt then.
Did he blame Drizzt for everything or did he secretly admire him for doing what few male drow had done? Rise above their station. Dinin had never sought such a thing. He was content with his lot in life. And Drizzt was arrogant to think he was superior to Dinin, superior enough to throw all that away and choose another path. Who was Drizzt that made him so mighty?
"What has running away from his station gotten Drizzt?" He asked quizzically. "How is he treated and regarded on the surface?"
Regis shrugged. "He suffers for the reputation of his people," he admitted. "He maintains his principles, his honor, but he's been denied entrance to cities, mocked and ridiculed, insulted, threatened, he's had to walk in the shadows, disguise himself. You see, most surface dwellers cannot see beyond the color of his skin. They will always see a drow."
Dinin cocked his head. "Why would he choose to live such a life?" he asked honestly. It didn't make sense. Drizzt's life in Menzoberranzan would have been so much easier if he had just gone along with who he was. He was a noble, he had prestige, he was the son of the most powerful warrior the city had ever known. Why wasn't that enough for him? It had been enough for Dinin. He was not Zaknafein's son, was that the key? Did Zaknafein pass along some trait that Dinin lacked?
Regis stepped forward and answered genuinely. "Because there have been a few people, like myself, Breunor, and Catti-brie who have loved Drizzt," Regis responded proudly as he thought of his drow friend. "He is the truest friend I have ever known. He willingly risks his life for those he loves. Even for those he has never met! Even for those who hate him. Why else would he have gone back to Menzoberranzan now? For the sake of his friends."
"He is a fool," Dinin growled, though he felt a twinge of envy. He wondered what it would be like to live like that. Seeing the sun above him, walking with people who truly cared for him. Dinin knew that he was never valued in Menzoberranzan. Though his loyalty had been sincere, he knew his mother and sisters had only seen him as a pawn.
"Well, I'll leave you for now, then," Regis informed him and as Dinin met eyes with the Halfling, a connection was acknowledged between them. Dinin's mind was still clouded with emotion, confusion, grief, and suffering. But he felt a weight he never knew existed lifted from his shoulders by his meeting with Regis.
As Regis left the dungeon, Dinin was engrossed in thoughts, emotions, everything coming up at once, and, perhaps, opportunity.