"Siege of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Salvatore Robert)

Part 1 RUMBLES OF DISCORD

I watched the preparations unfolding at Mithril Hall, preparations for war, for, though we, especially Catti-brie, had dealtHouse Baenre a stinging defeat back in Menzoberranzan,none of us doubted that the dark elves might come our wayonce more. Above all else, Matron Baenre was likely angry, and havingspent my youth in Menzoberranzan, I knew it was not a good thing tomake an enemy of the first matron mother.

Still, I liked what I was seeing here in the dwarven stronghold. Most of all, I enjoyed the spectacle of Bruenor Battlehammer.

Bruenor! My dearest friend. The dwarf 1 had fought beside since mydays in Icewind Dale — days that seemed very long ago indeed! I had fearedBruenor's spirit forever broken when Wulfgar fell, that the fire that hadguided this most stubborn of dwarves through seemingly insurmountableobstacles in his quest to reclaim his lost homeland had been forever doused.Not so, Ilearned in those days of preparation. Bruenor's physical scarswere deeper now — his left eye was lost, and a bluish line ran diagonally across his face, from forehead to jawbone — but the flames of spirit had beenrekindled, burning bright behind his good eye.

Bruenor directed the preparations, from agreeing to the fortificationdesigns being constructed in the lowest tunnels to sending out emissariesto the neighboring settlements in search of allies. He asked for no help in the decision-making, and needed none, for this was Bruenor, Eighth King of Mithril Hall, a veteran of so many adventures, a dwarf who had earnedhis title.

Now his grief was gone; he was king again, to the joy of his friends andsubjects. "Let the damned drow come!" Bruenor growled quite often, and always he nodded in my direction if I was about, as if to remind me that hemeant no personal insult.

In truth, that determined war cry from Bruenor Battlehammer was

among the sweetest things I had ever heard.

What was it, I wondered, that had brought the grieving dwarf from hisdespair? And it wasn't just Bruenor; all about me I saw an excitement, inthe dwarves, in Catti-brie, even in Regis, the halfling known more forpreparing for lunch and nap than for war. I felt it, too. That tingling anticipation, that camaraderie that had me and all the others patting each otheron the back, offering praises for the simplest of additions to the common defense, and raising our voices together in cheer whenever good news was announced.

What was it? It was more than shared fear, more than giving thanks for what we had while realizing that it might soon be stolen away. I didn't understand it then, in that time of frenzy, in that euphoria of frantic preparations. Now, looking back, it is an easy thing to recognize.

It was hope.

To any intelligent being, there is no emotion more important thanhope. Individually or collectively, we must hope that the future will be better than the past, that our offspring, and theirs after them, will be a bitcloser to an ideal society, whatever our perception of that might be. Certainly a warrior barbarian's hope for the future might differ from the ideal fostered in the imagination of a peaceful farmer. And a dwarf would not strive to live in a world that resembled an elf's ideal! But the hope itself is not so different. It is at those times when we feel we are contributing to that ultimate end, as it was in Mithril Hall when we believed the battle with Menzoberranzan would soon come — that we would defeat the dark elves and end, once and for all, the threat from the Underdark city — we feel trueelation.

Hope is the key. The future will be better than the past, or the present.Without this belief, there is only the self-indulgent, ultimately empty striving of the present, as in drow society, or simple despair, the time of lifewasted in waiting for death.

Bruenor had found a cause — we all had — and never have I been morealive than in those days of preparation in Mithril Hall.