[ For as much time they've spent together the past several months, it doesn't even occur to Link that Drizzt could be having any particularly deep thoughts about what it means to be a hero. How predictably ironic it is, when one remembers just how much mental energy Link has expended on trying to untangle the very same topic — and how much strife and despair he's suffered upon learning of the full story of the role he's stuck playing in Hyrule's true history. How long has Drizzt been stuck on the same crisis?
But that's one of the quintessential parts of life, isn't it? People can't read each other's minds. You have to communicate. And that has never been his strong suit. Even now, he doesn't know what else he can say to Drizzt to help him... or to help himself. ]
The part of your world that I saw...
[ he begins, slowly. ]
..."Beautiful" isn't what I'd call it.
[ Should he tell him now? That he managed to wrestle its Shard from the eye socket of a horrible, enormous spider, only to protect it from harm afterwards? He couldn't bring himself to shatter it, after all. He meant what he said to the other Zenites. It didn't change just because Drizzt's world had treated him, and Drizzt himself, and everyone else in it, so cruelly.
Link doesn't offer much more conversation until they've made it safely inside the Citadel. Dark and damp, it smells like stale air and mold, with a faint acrid stench of Bokoblins and the burning sting of aerated Gloom. The two men shuffle to a large meeting hall on the first floor of the fortress, or at least, what used to be a meeting hall. Tables are turned on their sides, all facing towards the hallway leading to the main entrance, and the empty chassis of long-deal Guardians are piled at that chokepoint... but only to a point, before they inevitably climbed over the bodies of their brethren and laid waste to the soldiers inside. Many, many men perished in this room, fighting an enemy they had no chance against. ]
Okay. Let's stop here and rest.
[ It's the first thing Link has said in a long minute. Leading Drizzt towards the back of the hall, he carefully helps him down to the floor. ]
What do you need right now? [ One hand lingers on Drizzt's shoulder. ] Food? Water?
no subject
But that's one of the quintessential parts of life, isn't it? People can't read each other's minds. You have to communicate. And that has never been his strong suit. Even now, he doesn't know what else he can say to Drizzt to help him... or to help himself. ]
The part of your world that I saw...
[ he begins, slowly. ]
..."Beautiful" isn't what I'd call it.
[ Should he tell him now? That he managed to wrestle its Shard from the eye socket of a horrible, enormous spider, only to protect it from harm afterwards? He couldn't bring himself to shatter it, after all. He meant what he said to the other Zenites. It didn't change just because Drizzt's world had treated him, and Drizzt himself, and everyone else in it, so cruelly.
Link doesn't offer much more conversation until they've made it safely inside the Citadel. Dark and damp, it smells like stale air and mold, with a faint acrid stench of Bokoblins and the burning sting of aerated Gloom. The two men shuffle to a large meeting hall on the first floor of the fortress, or at least, what used to be a meeting hall. Tables are turned on their sides, all facing towards the hallway leading to the main entrance, and the empty chassis of long-deal Guardians are piled at that chokepoint... but only to a point, before they inevitably climbed over the bodies of their brethren and laid waste to the soldiers inside. Many, many men perished in this room, fighting an enemy they had no chance against. ]
Okay. Let's stop here and rest.
[ It's the first thing Link has said in a long minute. Leading Drizzt towards the back of the hall, he carefully helps him down to the floor. ]
What do you need right now? [ One hand lingers on Drizzt's shoulder. ] Food? Water?