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The cleric woke with a gasp. Drizzt instinctively reached for his scimitars and stepped back, preparing to vanish the moment his rescuee came to his senses. The human coughed a few times, sputtering water into his lap.
He looked up, eyes narrowed. The shade of his eyes was a pale yellow, flecked with white. Drizzt stared. The cleric heaved a deep breath.
"Thank you!" he said fervently. "Oh, I thought I was going to die in that river. Gods, I hate water." He looked down at his wet tunic and trousers. "Well, thank those goblins for taking my armour. With it, I'd be dead for sure."
Drizzt was speechless for a moment. He grasped at his meager understanding of Common to make sense of the stream of words, then began to form a reply. Finally, a hesitant smile found its way onto his face. "Good evening." The words tasted strange on his tongue. "I'm glad they mugged you then. My name is Drizzt Do'Urden."
The cleric looked up and his expression fell in an instant. A muttered "By the Gods" escaped his lips. He scrambled backwards, trying to get to his feet, while bringing as much distance between him and Drizzt as possible.
Drizzt felt the usual wave of disappointment and shame drive heat into his dark face. He had hoped that maybe this time it would be different. That this time someone would not meet him with hostility, but maybe kindness. He had pulled the cleric out of the river, after all.
The human managed to stumble to his feet, a few metres from the river Drizzt had pulled him from. He was still soaking wet, dripping water onto the sun-warmed stones. His breathing had gotten a little faster, but he was mo longer trying to flee.
Drizzt pressed his lips together, stomach dropping. He started backing away slowly, already hearing the begging in his mind, the threats, the curses. The cleric swallowed, a hand sneaking upwards to take hold of the symbol of Selûne hanging around his neck. "I- I thank you for the rescue." The jovial tone was gone and he had switched to Undercommon almost seamlessly. "It is most appreciated." He chuckled nervously. "I mean, me! Dead! Can you imagine?" He rocked on his heels, trembling as a light breeze made the water at his back ripple.
"Since you so graciously provided me with your name first, I'm Lumara. Most honoured to stand in your presence. Unfortunately, I don't have any money to repay you. But I'm sure I can compensate you somehow - everyone is in need of a healer sometimes."
Drizzt blinked, taking a moment to make sense of the babbling and searching for a response. "I won't hurt you," he finally settled on, letting go of his scimitars.
Lumara nodded. He actually relaxed a little at the assurance, shoulders dropping from their tense hunch. "That's good. Good." He let go of the symbol. "I shall accompany you then? For when you need me?" He asked, shifting nervously. He was still shivering from cold the and the fear, and night was approaching fast.
Drizzt thought about it. The sensible thing to do would be to say no. But his desire to protect the human, to have some contact with another thinking being that wasn't Guenhwyvar won, in the end. "It would be for the best," he agreed.
They trudged through the forest together, Lumara trailing behind Drizzt, arms wrapped around himself. He was no small man, but he somehow seemed... less, curled into himself like that, wet and shivering. Drizzt didn't offer conversation, too scared of bringing back the moment of terror from earlier. Eventually, Lumara began to hum under his breath, terribly out of tune. Drizzt didn't mind.
When they reached the cave Drizzt was camping in, the sun had gone down, leaving the world in muted shades of grey. Lumara stumbled, his foot catching on a root. Drizzt turned to find the cleric's wide eyes fixed on him, filled with fear once more.
"Sorry. As you might know, I am unable to see in the dark. That's why I can't move this fast." Lumara's voice was strange; he sounded like somebody was strangling him.
"Take my hand. I'll guide you." A calloused, clammy and cold hand was tentatively placed into Drizzt‘s outstretched one. Drizzt led him into the cave.
"Huh. You're alone." The cleric let go of Drizzt‘s hand as soon as they were inside. "Can I, uh… cast Light?"
Drizzt nodded, then remembered the human probably couldn't see him. "Yes."
The cleric whispered a soft incantation, then the Symbol of Selûne began to emit a soft, warm glow. The human didn't look afraid anymore.
"I'll get a fire going." Drizzt turned to the pit he had built. Lumara dropped onto the ground.
"So you're... a ranger?" he asked curiously, rubbing his hands together for warmth.
The flames flickered to life with a soft whisper and Drizzt turned to face his... guest? Personal healer? He shook his head. "I'm not. And I haven't met one yet."
Lumara seemed taken aback, but didn't question him further.
"Are you hurt?" Drizzt asked, instead of elaborating. Lumara bit his lip.
"I don't think so. My arm hurts a little, I hit a rock when I was being swept through the river. Funny, isn't it? My greatest fear used to be that a fish would eat me, but they don't really have teeth-" He stopped himself, swallowing. "Never mind."
"Do you need healing?" Drizzt asked, feeling strangely warm from all the chatter. Or the fire, but the former was much more poetic.
"I can heal myself once I rest," Lumara muttered. "It's no big deal."
Drizzt looked at the man, the wet but largely intact clothing, the black hair plastered to his forehead. The eyes that avoided his as if the cleric's life depended on it. "Are you sure? I should check, just to be." Drizzt didn't let the topic drop.
"Yeah. I don't have any weapons though. And supplies. Or anything, really. Except for the clothes on my back." He paused. "And legs." Lumara added happily, as if his peril was a great source of amusement.
Drizzt stood, noting the human's slight flinch. "I won't hurt you," he promised again. "You may leave, if you want to."
Lumara looked to the cave mouth, and the dark trees turned into tall shadows by the night. Something strange happened to his face. "I don't want to freeze to death," he said faintly. "I'll stay."
Drizzt smiled in his direction. He was sure his face would hurt if he kept his smiling rate up, the motion was unfamiliar. "Okay. Come sit by the fire and eat something."
Lumara shuffled closer, and Drizzt began to empty his satchel and pull out the small, furry animal with a long tail he had managed to hunt, alongside a few mushrooms. "I don't actually know any edible plants," he said apologetically. "You'll have to survive on this if you want to stay."
"I've eaten what the orcs have thrown me for the last week. You'd think they'd treat their only healer better. They did throw me into the river eventually. Apparently I talk too much." Lumara hugged his knees. "But I can help you with the plant problem. And also eat half-cooked fish."
Drizzt gave him a questioning look. "It smells like fish in here." Lumara explained. Drizzt turned his face away to hide his mortification. Fish were the only animals inhabiting the area around the forest he knew were safe to eat.
Drizzt didn't think about the implications of that sentence. Maybe the human would stay. Maybe he didn't have to be alone anymore, however short a time Lumara might be with him. He was still smiling, he realized.
He walked over to his bedroll and began to search through his pack, stored next to his sleeping spot.
"You should get out of those clothes," he casually said over his shoulder. Silence followed his words. Then, a faint rustle of fabric.
"Yeah," the cleric mumbled, a slight tremor in his voice. "I probably should." Drizzt found the one spare tunic and trousers he owned and pulled them out of his pack.
Lumara cleared his throat. "Where do you want me?" he asked, not even trying to conceal his fear anymore. Drizzt froze, then clenched his teeth. He understood why people hated him. He did. The actions of his kin were despicable, but he had done nothing of the sort to this man.
"It would be best if you sat down here." He patted the bedroll.
"Why?" Lumara's wavering voice asked him, sounding almost confused. "You said you wouldn't-"
Drizzt turned, but averted his gaze at the human's state of undress. "I need to check your injuries. Come here." He sounded harsher than he intended. Lumara swallowed, the sound loud in the following silence.
"Okay," the cleric finally whispered. Footsteps approached Drizzt, and he shifted to make space. The cleric sat down, eyes on his lap, a tense line in his shoulders.
Drizzt looked up. And froze. Lumara's body was covered in scars, cruel lines stretching down his torso, burn marks, straight scars on his chest. He had folded his legs under himself, hands on his knees. There was a visible tremor in his shoulders. Drizzt closed his eyes. He recognized the patterns of some of the scars. He himself had been lashed by his sister often enough, but never this badly. And never this frequently.
“I'm sorry," he said. „I shouldn't have insisted-"
"Just get it over with," Lumara snapped, then slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at his own words. "I'm sorry, I just-" his voice broke into a sob. Drizzt looked at him helplessly, reaching out to place a hand on the cleric's shoulder. Lumara flinched back, then stilled, eyes clenched shut. "Sorry," he said again.
Drizzt pulled his hand away, eyes widening in realization. There was a reason Lumara spoke his language so well, with barely an accent. The way he had tried to appear fearless the moment he sensed Drizzt preferred it. He felt like somebody had emptied a bucket of cold water over his head, numb and uncoordinated. "Take my clothes." He tossed the bundle into Lumara's lap. The cleric's head shot up.
"What?" The sheer disbelief in his tone made Drizzt wince.
"I'm not going to do anything to you." he said softly, backing away. "I have not come to the surface to kill or steal. I don't follow Lolth." He took a deep breath. „I apologize."
Lumara took the tunic with trembling fingers and draped it over his head. „No, I'm- I shouldn't have thought you..." he trailed off and hung his head. "You won't send me out, will you? I'll die." The tears on his cheeks glistened in the firelight. Drizzt shook his head.
"I won't hurt you." He repeated, for the third time. Lumara put on the pants, expression drawn tight.
"Just because something doesn't hurt, doesn't mean I have to like it," he said softly, keeping his eyes on his tightly clasped hands. "Your voice is gentle," he added, out of the blue. "Have you... been to Menzoberranzan before? I've heard there are drow colonies that don't follow Lolth."
Drizzt couldn't help but admire the cleric's will to try and put up with him, even through obvious fear. "I grew up there." He pulled back his sleeve to show Lumara the marks of a whip that had bitten - quite literally, his sister's snakes were vicious - into his arm, instead of his back.
Lumara's eyes widened. "Oh. How did you get out?" He blurted, then shrank into himself. With a visible effort he straightened again and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Sorry. Bad habit."
Drizzt just shrugged. He wasn't ready to talk about Zaknafein's death, the cruel way his father had been brought back, and the true, final death that followed. He wasn't ready to recount the Svirfneblin's hospitality now that he lived in a world where there was none for him. "I saw the truth in their web of lies," he simply said. "It was enough to drive me out of that hellhole." He felt the old shame rise up inside of him, the shame connected to the cruelty of his family, the dark way of the drow.
Lumara sniffled. "Huh. That easy?"
"No," Drizzt said curtly. Lumara's mouth snapped shut and his shoulders came up to his ears. It made Drizzt wonder how the cleric had even gotten back to the surface.
"Sorry," Lumara said.
Drizzt ran a hand through his matted hair. He didn't remember conversations being this exhausting. The movement caught Lumara's eye. "At least I have a resistance to most poisons now," he muttered.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Drizzt found himself asking. Lumara stared at the floor.
"No." His answer was quick, just as Drizzt's had been. The drow allowed himself a small smile.
"Fair enough." He held out a hand, which Lumara took, and pulled the cleric up. He left him to stand on unsteady legs and stepped back. The fire flickered behind them, its glow warming Drizzt's back.
"I can still stay, right?" Lumara asked. "I meant what I said, about helping with food or healing."
"I don't have much company," Drizzt admitted. "Yours would be welcome." He could see Lumara had not quite got over his fear yet. Perhaps with time, the hard lines around his mouth and the furrow in his brow would soften and he would feel truly safe with him. Drizzt looked away. He had always wished for too much, hadn't he?
Lumara's stomach growled. The human curled a hand around his middle, face red. "Sorry. You must know orcs aren't the best hosts."
Drizzt gestured for him to stay seated on the bedroll and moved back to the fire. "How did you end up with them? From what I learned during my time at the academy, orcs don't keep prisoners for long." He began to skin the animal, the fluffy tail soft under his hands. He almost regretted killing such a magnificent creature. Besides, it was too small to be a decent meal for two.
"I was useful. When they attacked my companions and I, I bragged as much as I could. About how I could heal the nastiest wounds, cure festering rot and so on." Lumara pulled his knees up and hugged them, waving one hand in the air. "Well, it's nothing I'm incapable of anyway." It reminded Drizzt of some of the nesting songbirds he had caught glimpses of, with their round bodies, feathers fluffed and singing proudly.
He chuckled. "You didn't brag to me." Lumara's grip on his knees tightened and Drizzt cursed himself for messing up - again.
"I- uh." the colour had vanished from Lumara's voice. "The drow preffered silence. Especially when I talked about my magic." he huffed softly. "As you can imagine, they're not fond of Selûne."
Drizzt realized his grip on the knife was too tight. "I can," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry."
"Is it your fault? No." Lumara's voice was still quiet. Drizzt finished skinning the animal. "Squirrel?" Lumara asked. Drizzt blinked.
"What?"
"The animal. It's a squirrel."
Drizzt repeated the name slowly, fumbling with the unfamiliar pronunciation. Lumara couldn't hold back a giggle. Drizzt wanted to smile at him, but as soon as the sound had left the Lumara's mouth, the cleric snapped it shut.
"I won't-"
"I know! All right? I know you won't hurt me. I am an excellent judge of character, once I've got over the initial panic, you know?" Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. "Give me time."
Drizzt mumbled a soft yes. "How old were you?" He couldn't help but ask.
Lumara shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeated. "Never. Don't ask me again."
The fire flickered merrily. Drizzt turned his attention back to the... squirrel.
-
The next day, Lumara's clothes had dried. He put them on, despite their awful smell, like sweat and blood. "I don't have any coin, not anymore." he said. "But I'm sure somebody in town can give me work. I'll return to you once I've got something to replace these."
Drizzt had been anxious Lumara wouldn't come back. He waited for three days, eventually summoning Guenhwyvar against the new wave of loneliness, even sharper than the others used to be.
Lumara, against all of his expectations, returned, wearing a simple leather armour and carrying a backpack. He looked clean, practically radiating energy. "Wow, you're still here." He shifted nervously. "It took me some time to get the money, but the villagers were generous. Usually I ask for nothing more than a hot meal, and a place to sleep if needed."
"I am surprised you returned," Drizzt managed to say, hope rising like a tide.
"I keep my promises," Lumara said. "Promise."
That night, the moon seemed to shine brighter.