“And be knowin’ that ye’re all welcome, and that ye’ll find all the hospitality o’ Mithral Hall for yerself,” another dwarf offered.

“That is most generous,” said Alustriel. She turned and looked back to the east as she continued, “More of my people—wizards from Silverymoon—will be coming in throughout the morn, on all manner of flight, some self-propelled and some riding ebony flies, and two on broomsticks and another on a carpet. I pray your archers will not shoot them down.”

“Ebony flies?” Shingles replied. “Flying on bugs, ye mean?”

“Big bugs,” said Catti-brie.

“Would have to be.”

“We come armed with spells of creation, for we wish to see the bridge across the Surbrin opened and secure as soon as possible,” Alustriel explained. “For the sake of Mithral Hall and for all the goodly kingdoms of the Silver Marches.”

“More well met, then!” bellowed Shingles, and he led yet another cheer.

Catti-brie moved toward the back edge of the chariot, but Alustriel took her by the shoulder. “We can fly out to the west and seek King Bruenor,” she offered.

Catti-brie paused and looked that way, but shook her head and replied, “He will return presently, I’m sure.”

Catti-brie accepted Shingles’s offered hand, and let the dwarf ease her down to the ground. Shingles was quick to Alustriel, similarly helping her, and the Lady, though not injured as was Catti-brie, graciously accepted. She moved back from her cart and motioned for the others to follow.

Alustriel could have simply dismissed the flaming chariot and the horses made of magical fire. Dispelling her own magic was easy work, of course, and the fiery team and cart alike would have flared for an instant before they winked into blackness, a final puff of smoke drifting and dissipating into the air.

But Lady Alustriel had been using that particular spell for many years, and had put her own flavor into it, both in the construction of the cart and team and in the dismissal of the magic. Figuring that the dwarves could use a bit of spirit-lifting, the powerful wizardess performed her most impressive variation of the dispelling.

The horse team snorted and reared, flames shooting from swirling, fiery nostrils. As one, they leaped into the air, straight up, the cart lurching behind them. Some twenty feet off the ground, the many sinews of fire that held the form broke apart, orange tendrils soaring every which way, and as they reached their limits, exploded with deafening bangs, throwing showers of sparks far and wide.

The dwarves howled with glee, and Catti-brie, for all of her distress, couldn’t contain a giggle.

When it ended a few heartbeats later, their ears ringing with the echoes of the retorts, their eyes blinking against the sting of the brilliant flashes, Catti-brie offered an appreciative smile to her friend and driver.

“It was just the enchantment they needed,” she whispered, and Alustriel replied with a wink.

They went into Mithral Hall side-by-side.

Early the next morning, Shingles again found himself in the role of official greeter in the region east of the hall’s eastern gate, for it was he who first caught up with the six adventurers returning from the place Bruenor had named Gauntlgrym. The old Mirabarran dwarf had directed the watch overnight, and was sorting out assignments for the workday, both along the fortifications on the northern mountain spur and at the bridge. No stranger to the work of wizards, Shingles repeatedly warned his boys to stay well back when Alustriel’s gang came out to work their dweomers. When word came that King Bruenor and the others had returned, Shingles moved fast to the south to intercept them.

“Did ye find it, then, me king?” he asked excitedly, giving voice to the thoughts and whispers of all the others around him.

“Aye,” Bruenor replied, but in a tone surprisingly unenthusiastic. “We found something, though we’re not for knowing if it’s Gauntlgrym just yet.” He motioned to the large sack that Torgar carried, and the rolled tapestry slung over Cordio’s shoulder. “We’ve some things for Nanfoodle and me scholars to look over. We’ll get our answers.”

“Yer girl’s come home,” Shingles explained. “Lady Alustriel flew her in on that chariot o’ fire. And the Lady’s here, too, along with ten Silverymoon wizards, all come to work on the bridge.”

Bruenor, Drizzt, and Regis exchanged glances as Shingles finished.

“Me girl alone?” Bruenor asked.

“With the Lady.”

Bruenor stared at Shingles.

“Wulfgar’s not returned with ’em,” the old Mirabarran dwarf said. “Catti-brie said nothing of it, and I didn’t think it me place to ask.”

Bruenor looked to Drizzt.

“He is far west,” the drow said quietly, and Bruenor inadvertently glanced out that way then nodded.

“Get me to me girl,” Bruenor instructed as he started off at a swift pace for Mithral Hall’s eastern door.

They found Catti-brie, Lady Alustriel, and the Silverymoon wizards not far down the corridor inside, the lot of them having spent the night in the hall’s easternmost quarters. After a quick and polite greeting, Bruenor begged the Lady’s pardon, and Alustriel and her wizards quickly departed the hall, heading for the Surbrin bridge.

“Where’s he at?” Bruenor asked Catti-brie when it was just the two of them, Drizzt, and Regis.

“You’re knowing well enough.”

“Ye found Colson, then?”

Catti-brie nodded.

“And he’s taking her home,” Bruenor stated.

Another nod. “I offered to journey with him,” Catti-brie explained, and she glanced at Drizzt and was relieved to see him smile at that news. “But he would not have me along.”

“Because the fool ain’t for coming back,” said Bruenor, and he spat and stalked off. “Durned fool son of an over-sized orc.”

Drizzt motioned to Regis to go with Bruenor, and the halfling nodded and trotted away.

“I think Bruenor is right,” Catti-brie said, and she shook her head in futile denial, then rushed over and wrapped Drizzt in a tight hug and kissed him deeply. She put her head on his shoulder, not relenting a bit in her embrace. She sniffed back tears.

“He knew that Wulfgar would not likely return,” Drizzt whispered.

Catti-brie pushed him back to arms’ length. “As did yourself, but you didn’t tell me,” she said.

“I honored Wulfgar’s wishes. He was not sure of where his road would lead, but he did not wish discussion of it all the way to Silvery-moon and beyond.”

“If I had known along our road, I might’ve been able to change his mind,” Catti-brie protested.

Drizzt gave her a helpless look. “More the reason to not tell you.”

“You agree with Wulfgar’s choice?”

“I think it is not my place to agree or to argue,” Drizzt said with a shrug.

“You think it’s his place to be deserting Bruenor at this time of—?”

“This time or any time.”

“How can you say that? Wulfgar is family to us, and he just left…”

“As you and I did those years ago, after the drow war when Wulfgar fell to the yochlol,” Drizzt reminded her. “We longed for the road and so we took to the road, and left Bruenor to his hall. For six years.”

That reminder seemed to deflate Catti-brie’s ire quite a bit. “But now Bruenor’s got an army of orcs on his doorstep,” she protested, but with far less enthusiasm.

“An army that will likely be there for years to come. Wulfgar told me that he could not see his future here. And truly, what is there for him here? No wife, no children.”

“And it pained him to look upon us.”

Drizzt nodded. “Likely.”

“He told me as much.”

“And so you wear a mantle of guilt?”

Catti-brie shrugged.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Drizzt said. He drew her in close once more, and gently pushed her head onto his shoulder. “Wulfgar’s road is Wulfgar’s own to choose. He has family in Icewind Dale, if that is where he decides to go. He has his people there. Would you deny him the chance to find love? Should he not sire children, who will follow his legacy of leadership among the tribes of Icewind Dale?”