The Crystal Shard(The Icewind Dale Trilogy 1)(35)

Finally, as morning dawned on the third day, Bruenor stirred and stretched. Drizzt silently padded away, moving down the path he knew the dwarf would take. Finding an appropriate clearing, he hastily set up a small campsite.

The sunlight came to Bruenor as only a blur at first, and it took him several minutes to reorient himself to his surroundings. Then his returning vision focused on the shining glory of the warhammer.

Quickly, he glanced around him, looking for signs of the fallen dust. He found none, and his anticipation heightened. He was trembling once again as he lifted the magnificent weapon, turning it over in his hands, feeling its perfect balance and incredible strength. Bruenor's breath flew away when he saw the symbols of the three gods on the mithril, diamond dust magically fused into their deeply etched lines. Entranced by the apparent perfection of his work, Bruenor understood the emptiness his father had spoken of. He knew that he would never duplicate this level of his craft, and he wondered if, knowing this, he would ever be able to lift his smithy hammer again.

Trying to sort through his mixed emotions, the dwarf put the silver mallet and chisel back into their golden coffer and replaced the scroll in its tube, though the parchment was blank again and the magical runes would never reappear. He realized that he hadn't eaten in several days, and his strength hadn't fully recovered from the drain of the magic. He collected as many things as he could carry, hoisted the huge warhammer over his shoulder, and trudged off toward his home.

The sweet scent of roasting coney greeted him as he came upon Drizzt Do'Urden's camp.

"So, yer back from yer travels," he called in greeting to his friend.

Drizzt locked his eyes onto the dwarf's, not wanting to give away his overwhelming curiosity for the warhammer. "At your request, good dwarf," he said, bowing low. "Surely you had enough people looking for me to expect that I'd return."

Bruenor conceded the point, though for the present he only offered absently, "I needed ye," as an explanation. A more pressing need had come over him at the sight of the cooking meat.

Drizzt smiled knowingly. He had already eaten and had caught and cooked this coney especially for Bruenor. "Join me?" he asked.

Before he had even finished the offer, Bruenor was eagerly reaching for the rabbit. He stopped suddenly, though, and turned a suspicious eye upon the drow.

"How long have ye been in?" the dwarf asked nervously.

"Just arrived this morning," Drizzt lied, respecting the privacy of the dwarf's special ceremony. Bruenor smirked at the answer and tore into the coney as Drizzt set another on the spit.

The drow waited until Bruenor was engrossed with his meal, then quickly snatched up the warhammer. By the time Bruenor could react, Drizzt had already lifted the weapon.

"Too big for a dwarf," Drizzt remarked casually. "And too heavy for my slender arms." He looked at Bruenor, who stood with his forearms crossed and his foot stamping impatiently. "For who then?"

"Ye've a talent for puttin' yer nose where it don't belong, elf," the dwarf answered gruffly.

Drizzt laughed in response. "The boy, Wulfgar?" he asked in mock disbelief. He knew well that the dwarf harbored strong feelings for the young barbarian, though he also realized that Bruenor would never openly admit it. "A fine weapon to be giving a barbarian. Did you craft it yourself?"

Despite his chiding, Drizzt was truly awe-stricken by Bruenor's workmanship. Though the hammer was far too heavy for him to wield, he could clearly feel its incredible balance.

"Just an old hammer; that's all," Bruenor mumbled. "The boy lost 'is club; I couldn't well turn 'im loose in this wild place without a weapon!"

"And its name?"

"Aegis-fang," Bruenor replied without thinking, the name flowing from him before he even had time to consider it. He didn't remember the incident, but the dwarf had determined the name of the weapon when he had enchanted it as part of the magical intonations of the ceremony.

"I understand," Drizzt said, handing the hammer back to Bruenor. "An old hammer, but good enough for the boy. Mithril, adamantite, and diamond will simply have to do."

"Aw, shut yer mouth," snapped Bruenor, his face flushed red with embarrassment. Drizzt bowed low in apology.

"Why did you request my presence, friend?" the drow asked, changing the subject.

Bruenor cleared his throat. "The boy," he grumbled softly. Drizzt saw the uncomfortable lump well in Bruenor's throat and buried his next taunt before he spoke it.

"He comes free afore winter," continued Bruenor, "an' he's not rightly trained. Stronger than any man I've ever seen and moves with the grace of a fleeing deer, but he's green to the ways o' battle."

"You want me to train him?" Drizzt asked incredulously.

"Well, I can't do it!" Bruenor snapped suddenly. "He's seven foot and wouldn't be takin' well to the low cuts of a dwarf!"

The drow eyed his frustrated companion curiously. Like everyone else who was close to Bruenor, he knew that a bond had grown between the dwarf and the young barbarian, but he hadn't guessed just how deep it ran.

"I didn't take 'im under me eye for five years just to let him get cut down by a stinkin' tundra yeti!" Bruenor blurted, impatient with the drow's hesitance, and nervous that his friend had guessed more than he should. "Will ye do it, then?"