“I told ye he’d be back,” Bruenor said to Wulfgar and Catti-brie, who both sat beside him in his audience hall. “Th’ elf’d not be missing such a thing as yer wedding!”

General Dagnabit—who, with blessings from King Harbromme of Citadel Adbar, had stayed on with two thousand other dwarves, swearing allegiance to Bruenor—entered the room, escorting a figure who had become less and less noticeable in Mithril Hall over the last few months.

“Greetings,” said Drizzt, moving up to his friends.

“So ye made it,” Catti-brie said absently, feigning disinterest.

“We had not planned for this,” added Wulfgar in the same casual tone. “I pray that there may be an extra seat at the table.”

Drizzt only smiled and bowed low in apology. He had been absent quite often—for weeks at a time—lately. Personal invitations to visit the Lady of Silverymoon and her enchanted realm were not so easily refused.

“Bah!” Bruenor snorted. “I told ye he’d come back! And back to stay, this time!”

Drizzt shook his head.

Bruenor cocked his in return, wondering what was getting into his friend. “Ye hunting for that assassin, elf?” he could not help but ask.

Drizzt grinned and shook his head again. “I’ve no desire to meet that one again,” he replied. He looked at Catti-brie—she understood—then back to Bruenor. “There are many sights in the wide world, dear dwarf, that cannot be seen from the shadows. Many sounds more pleasant than the ring of steel, and many smells preferable to the stench of death.”

“Cook another feast,” Bruenor grumbled. “Suren the elf has his eyes fixed on another wedding!”

Drizzt let it go at that. Maybe there was a ring of truth in Bruenor’s words, for some distant date. No longer did Drizzt limit his hopes and desires. He would see the world as he could and draw his choices from his wishes, not from limitations he might impose upon himself. For now, though, Drizzt had found something too personal to be shared.

For the first time in his life, the drow had found peace.

Another dwarf entered the room and scurried up to Dagnabit. They both took their leave, but Dagnabit returned a few moments later.

“What is it?” Bruenor asked him, confused by all the bustle.

“Another guest,” Dagnabit explained, but before he could launch a proper introduction, a halfling figure slipped into the room.

“Regis!” Catti-brie cried. She and Wulfgar rushed to meet their old friend.

“Rumblebelly!” Bruenor yelled. “What in the Nine Hells—”

“Did you believe that I would miss this occasion?” Regis huffed. “The wedding of two of my dearest friends?”

“How’d ye know?” Bruenor asked.

“You underestimate your fame, King Bruenor,” Regis said, dropping into a graceful bow.

Drizzt studied the halfling curiously. He wore his gemstudded jacket and more jewelry, including the ruby pendant, than the drow had ever seen in one place. And the pouches hanging low on Regis’s belt were sure to be filled with gold and gems.

“Might ye be staying long?” Catti-brie asked.

Regis shrugged. “I am in no hurry,” he replied. Drizzt cocked an eyebrow. A master of a thieves’ guild did not often leave his place of power; too many were usually ready to steal it out from under him.

Catti-brie seemed happy with the answer and happy with the timing of the halfling’s return. Wulfgar’s people were soon to rebuild the city of Settlestone, at the base of the mountains. She and Wulfgar, though, planned to remain in Mithril Hall, at Bruenor’s side. After the wedding, they planned to do a bit of traveling they’d had in mind, maybe back to Icewind Dale, maybe along with Captain Deudermont later in the year, when the Sea Sprite sailed back to the southlands.

Catti-brie dreaded telling Bruenor that they would be leaving, if only for a few months. With Drizzt so often on the road, she feared that the dwarf would be miserable. But if Regis planned to stay on for a while…

“Might I have a room,” Regis asked, “to put my things and to rest away the weariness of a long road?”

“We’ll see to it,” Catti-brie offered.

“And for your attendants?” Bruenor asked.

“Oh,” stammered Regis, searching for a reply. “I…came alone. The southerners do not take well to the chill of a northern spring, you know.”

“Well, off with ye, then,” said Bruenor. “Suren it be me turn to set out a feast for the pleasure of yer belly.”

Regis rubbed his hands together eagerly and left with Wulfgar and Catti-brie, the three of them breaking into tales of their latest adventures before they had even left the room.

“Suren few folk in Calimport have ever heared o’ me name, elf,” Bruenor said to Drizzt after the others had gone. “And who south o’ Longsaddle would be knowing of the wedding?” He turned a sly eye on his dark friend. “Suren the little one brings a bit of his treasure along with him, eh?”

Drizzt had come to the same conclusion the moment Regis had entered the room. “He is running.”