Page 1 (1/2)
PROLOGUE
The Year of True Omens (1409 DR)
A LOT COULD BE SAID OF KING BRUENOR BATTLEHAMMER OF MITHRAL Hall, and htfully bestowed upon hi dwarves, men, and even elves Bruenor had been instru the Silver Marches into one of the ions in all Faerûn Add "visionary" to his title, fittingly, for what other dwarf doh the death of Obould and the succession to his son, Urlgen, Obould II
It was truly a remarkable feat, and one that had secured Bruenor’s place in dwarven legend, though ru with orcs in any way other than war In truth, Bruenor was often heard second-guessing himself on the matter, year in and year out However, in the end, the si Bruenor reclaih his wisdoed the face of the North
But of all the titles Bruenor Battlehammer could claim as earned, the ones that had always satshoulders were those of father and friend Of the latter, Bruenor knew no peer, and all who called hiladly throw hi uret, in the service of friendship But of the former…
Bruenor had never wed, never sired children of his own, but had come to claim two humans as his adoptive children
Two children since lost to him
"I tried me best," the dwarf said to Drizzt Do’Urden, the unlikely drow advisor to the throne of Mithral Hall--on those increasingly rare occasions when Drizzt was actually present in Mithral Hall "I teached them as me father teached me"
"No one could ever say different," Drizzt assured him
The drow rested back in a comfortable chair near the hearth in a s look at his oldest friend Bruenor’s great beard was less red, even less orange, as y scalp had receded just a bit On ray eyes sparkled as intensely as it had those decades before on the slopes of Kelvin’s Cairn in Icewind Dale
But not that day, and understandably so
The melancholy so plain in his eyes was not reflected in the dwarf’sin his chair and hopping to his feet to grab another log, which he pitched perfectly onto the fire It crackled and smoldered in protest and failed to erupt in flarumbled He sto a long, steady streas He worked diligently at the fire for a long while, adjusting the logs, pu for Bruenor For that was how the dwarf did everything, fro the tentative peace with Many-Arrows to keeping his clan operating in efficient harht, and so too was the fire, at last, and Bruenor settled back in his chair and picked up his greatshook his head, his face a ret "Should o’ killed that smelly orc"
Drizzt was all too faued Bruenor since the day he’d signed the Treaty of Garue
"No," the drow replied, less than convincing
Bruenor scoffed at him, somewhat viciously "Yerself vowed to kill ’ie, didn’t ye?"
"Take care, Bruenor"
"Ah, but he cleaved yer elf friend in half, now, didn’t he? And his speared horse she rode"
Drizzt’s stare reflected both pain and si the line here
"But ye let him live!" Bruenor shouted, and he slammed his fist down on the arned the treaty," Drizzt said, his face and voice calm He knew he didn’t need to shout those words for thehed and dropped his face into his palm
Drizzt let him stew there for a few er "You’re hardly the only one angered by the fact that Obould lived out his years in comfort," he said "No one wanted to kill him more than I"
"But we didn’t"
"And we did the right thing"
"Did we, elf?" Bruenor asked in all seriousness "Now he’s gone and they’re wantin’ to keep on, but are they really? When’s it goin’ to break? When’re the orcs goin’ to be orcs and start another war?"
Drizzt shrugged, for what answer could he give?