As it is written: “At Winter Solstice within the Year of the Scarlet Witch wise men shall gather to stand between Darkness and Light.”
28 Nightal, 1491 DR
News of the healing of Drizzt Do’Urden spread through the Dwarven stronghold quickly. One of the most legendary heroes of the past two centuries had returned from death’s door, and Bruenor would spare no price of the celebration that night. And the cadre were the guests of honor, of course, having been the ones to wake the King’s Son from his coma. The Heroes of Delzoun, they were being called, mainly because the dared not reveal they were The Ones Who Walk even to these benevolent Dwarves.
“The gods’ve blessed us—they sent ye here for a reason!” he said time and again, clapping each of the cadre on the back heavily. “We’ll be singin’ and dancin’ and drinkin’ all the night, don’t ye doubt!” Bruenor spent the early part of the gathering beside Drizzt and Catti- brie. He nodded and smiled, clapped tankards, and shared hugs and well-wishes with nearly every resident of the huge Dwarven city. However, there was never a missed opportunity to make a toast to the heroes who returned Drizzt to life.
Brunenor lifted his mug and clapped it against the flagon Catti-brie put up, and a third came in from Drizzt, and then more as another band of well- wishing Dwarves bobbed over. And on it went, with cheers, and every drink lifted repeatedly for “Heroes of Delzoun!” and “Drizzt!”
On one side of the room, a chorus began, a troupe of Dwarves with tones both wistful and dulcet, singing tales of war, of victory and great sorrow. As one song, a merrier melody, gathered momentum, some Dwarves began to dance, and others called for The Heroes of Delzoun to join in. And so they did, and soon the Dwarven dancers fell back and circled them, cheering them on.
And so it went, and for that night at least, the companions could forget their worries, the prophecy, and the Shadowfell. Just for that one night.
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