"Slavery still beats being turned into a drider," Haukun added. "But all of our past faults will be forgiven when the matron mother hears how we saved the day."

"Not to mention preserved the Spider Queen's honor," added Courun.

"What exactly did you do to fall out of favor?" Volo inquired, with a tone of such sincerity and caring that both drow warriors continued to let their guards down.

"They thought we were inept," Haukun confessed.

"And not suitable for becoming warriors," Courun added.

"We returned from a surface raid without any captives…"

"And worse still, there was a trace of broken spider-web on our boots…"

Volo nodded in understanding. Among the drow, to fail as a warrior was almost unforgivable, but to be suspected of having caused harm to one of Lloth's chosen children was a far greater crime. Still, even offenses of such magnitude could be forgiven after a great act of fealty or heroism.

"But that's all in the past now," Haukun proclaimed proudly, then ordered, "Back on your feet! The sooner we get to the beloved place of our birth, the sooner we shall be vindicated."

Quickly, the two captives regained their feet and set off down the passageway, farther into the bowels of Toril. The captors did not seem to notice that Volo had not returned the stone of luminescence to his pouch, instead attaching it to a thong that hung around his neck, thus providing a helpful torch for both himself and Woodehous.

The Road to Menzoberranzan

Much later, after endless hours of walking, the party of four stopped to rest by an underground pool. The two drow captors offered their captives some leathery jerky made from a long-dead lizard of undetermined species.

"Eat," Haukun instructed. "We have no intention of dragging your starving carcasses the rest of the way. This should sustain you for a while."

The jerky tasted awful and was far from filling, but both captives realized that eating it was better than going hungry. They tried their best to ingest the leathery sustenance. Woodehous also noticed, with some consolation, that neither of their captors seemed to enjoy the meal either.

"Too bad there aren't any fish in this pool," Volo said matter-of-factly.

"Why do you say that?" Courun inquired just as an eyeless trout broke the surface with a flick and splash.

"Well," Volo replied, "I've always heard that drow are excellent fishermen, and given that my compadre in captivity is one of the best chefs in all Waterdeep-let alone Skullport-I don't see why brave warriors such as yourselves should have to make do with inferior field rations… I guess that sort of self-denial is what makes you such great warriors. I, on the other hand, could really go for some fish stew. Then again, I've never claimed to be a great warrior, let alone the equal in fortitude of the noble and great drow."

Courun and Haukun looked at each other for a moment, and then said something in the drow tongue. Haukun turned to Woodehous and said, "Are you really a good cook?"

"The best," Volo answered in his stead, adding for agreement, "right?"

"Well, I don't like to brag," Woodehous responded, seeing the opportunity for a better meal than the rancid jerky, "but, well, let me put it this way, all of Waterdeep can't be wrong."

"Let alone Wurlitzer of Skullport," added the gazetteer. "He's a noted connoisseur."

The two drow looked at each other in puzzlement.

"That means he likes good cooking," Volo quickly explained.

A quick exchange of words between the two, and Haukun took to his feet, grabbed his spear, and positioned himself on the pool's ledge, eyeing the water for a trout. Courun meanwhile arranged some rocks in a pile and said a drow incantation.

In no time at all, the rocks began to glow fiery hot, and a sizeable trout had been freshly speared. Both Woodehous and Volo's hands were unbound, and instructions were given.

"Cook!"

Volo whispered to Woodehous surreptitiously.

"Okay, Percy," the gazetteer said, "do your stuff, and you better make it good."

"I need a pan or a pot of some sort," Woodehous replied.

"But of course," Volo agreed. "Courun, can he borrow your breastplate?"

"Sure," Haukun replied.

As Courun undid the fastening from his tunic, the chef gazed around the subterranean chamber as if looking for something in particular.

"What are you looking for?" Haukun demanded. "You have a pan now. Why aren't you cooking?"

Woodehous prepared to place the trout on the breastplate. "It's just that pan-roasted trout is so bland," the maitre d'/cook/waiter explained, still looking around. "Would you do me a favor and fetch me some of the moss from that half-submerged rock over there, and perhaps some of the hanging fungus from that stalactite as well?"

"Why?" the drow demanded.

"You'll see," Volo assured.

The two drow once again exchanged gazes of puzzlement, and then, with a shrug, Courun set off to fetch the requested ingredients.

Expertly, Woodehous the chef gutted the trout and removed its innards, replacing them with some of the recently obtained hanging fungus. He then added a little water to the breastplate pan and sprinkled some of the fungus into it. The water began to simmer with a truly delicious odor of spice. While the water was heating up, Woodehous rubbed the moss against the outside flesh of the fish until little flecks of vegetation had permeated the meat. He then added the thoroughly seasoned trout to the pan, carefully turning it every few moments so that it cooked both completely and evenly.

The cavern was soon filled with the tempting and savory aroma of a gourmet's delight, and in no time at all, the four travelers were enjoying a nourishing and delicious meal.

"See," Volo attested, "I told you."

"No complaints here," Haukun agreed. "If you can cook this well all the time, my partner and I might be willing to let you continue the journey with your wrists unbound, that is, provided you don't try to escape."

"Where would we go?" Volo reminded him. "We'd just get lost and die in the dark without your expert guidance."

"You'd better believe it," Courun replied, his mouth half full of the gourmet's delight.

Once the meal was over, the foursome rested while Courun allowed his breastplate to cool. Once it was back in place, they recommenced their journey, following the stream that evidently fed the pool that had been the source of their splendid repast. In a little while, they decided to make camp to rest a bit, and get a little sleep. Woodehous quickly realized that the concept of day and night no longer really existed. He had quite lost track of the time that had passed since he had first spotted Volo back in the Double G and raced after him through the alleyways of Skullport. He had also not realized how tired he really was, and quickly found himself fast asleep.

"Percy, wake up!" Volo urged in a hushed tone.

Woodehous stirred from his moments with Morpheus, and opened his eyes.

Sometime during their rest, their two drow captors had been confronted by a pair of kuo-toa-tall, nasty, pot-bellied amphibians-and harsh words were being exchanged. During the course of what had started as a cordial though wary meeting, the conversation between representatives of the two dominant subterranean species had quickly deteriorated into a heated argument.

"The tall kuo-toan," Volo explained, "claims he can smell the blood of his people on Courun. No doubt he really smells the residue of our dinner on our captor's breastplate."

"One would have thought that he would have washed it off before putting it back on," Woodehous observed.

"No doubt," Volo replied, "but then again, neither of our captors have shown much evidence of common sense or brainpower. If their superiors back in Menzoberranzan thought they were incompetent, the odds are that they really are. Drow matrons are usually keen judges of competence and potential."