would have all been for naught, given their current situation.
'I worked there,' Woodehous replied, 'at Traitor Pick's…'
Volo snapped his fingers, once again interrupting. 'You must be Pig. I've heard wonderful things about your cooking. I can't wait to try it. How did you wind up working there?'
'Thanks for the compliment,' the beleaguered gourmet replied, now resigned to the fact that he would probably be known by that horrible moniker until his dying day-whose possible proximity was beginning to cause him great consternation.'My full name is Percival Gallard Woodehous. I lost my job at the Shipmaster's Hall through circumstances beyond my control, and I needed a job.'
'Quit your yammering!' one of the drow captors ordered, kicking Woodehous in the side and cuffing Volo alongside the head. 'Rest while you can, and you'd best do it quietly. It's a long walk to Menzoberranzan.'
'Sorry,' the gazetteer apologized. 'I just figured that since it was going to be such a long trip, we might want to get to know each other a bit. Now I assume both you and your equally dark-skinned companion are probably two of Lloth's famous warriors.'
'We will be, once we bring you in,' the captor boasted proudly. 'Soon everyone in Menzoberranzan will know the names of Courun and Haukun as the lone protectors of the privacy of the Spider Queen. No surface dweller has ever dared violate the sanctity of her domain, let alone document such visitations in a travel guide.'
'You caught me red-handed,' Volo conceded. 'I hadn't even had the chance to turn the manuscript over to my publisher yet.'
'And you never shall,' said the drow known as Courun. 'You are our ticket out of exile.'
'And what am I?' Woodehous inquired, quickly receiving another kick to the ribs.
'Just another slave bound for the work pits,' said the drow known as Haukun, 'and believe me, it's not a pleasant place.'
'That's why we left,' Courun inserted. 'Had we stayed around, that would have been the most favorable fate available to us.'
'Slavery still beats being turned into a drider,' Haukun added. 'But all of our past faults will be forgiven when the matron mother hears how we saved the day.'
'Not to mention preserved the Spider Queen's honor,' added Courun.
'What exactly did you do to fall out of favor?' Volo inquired, with a tone of such sincerity and caring that both drow warriors continued to let their guards down.
'They thought we were inept,' Haukun confessed.
'And not suitable for becoming warriors,' Courun added.
'We returned from a surface raid without any captives…'
'And worse still, there was a trace of broken spider-web on our boots…'
Volo nodded in understanding. Among the drow, to fail as a warrior was almost unforgivable, but to be suspected of having caused harm to one of Lloth's chosen children was a far greater crime. Still, even offenses of such magnitude could be forgiven after a great act of fealty or heroism.
'But that's all in the past now,' Haukun proclaimed proudly, then ordered, 'Back on your feet! The sooner we get to the beloved place of our birth, the sooner we shall be vindicated.'
Quickly, the two captives regained their feet and set off down the passageway, farther into the bowels of Toril. The captors did not seem to notice that Volo had not returned the stone of luminescence to his pouch, instead attaching it to a thong that hung around his neck, thus providing a helpful torch for both himself and Woodehous.
The Road to Menzoberranzan
Much later, after endless hours of walking, the party of four stopped to rest by an underground pool. The two drow captors offered their captives some leathery jerky made from a long-dead lizard of undetermined species.
'Eat,' Haukun instructed. 'We have no intention of dragging your starving carcasses the rest of the way. This should sustain you for a while.'
The jerky tasted awful and was far from filling, but both captives realized that eating it was better than going hungry. They tried their best to ingest the leathery sustenance. Woodehous also noticed, with some consolation, that neither of their captors seemed to enjoy the meal either.
'Too bad there aren't any fish in this pool,' Volo said matter-of-factly.
'Why do you say that?' Courun inquired just as an eyeless trout broke the surface with a flick and splash.
'Well,' Volo replied, 'I've always heard that drow are excellent fishermen, and given that my compadre in captivity is one of the best chefs in all Waterdeep-let alone Skullport-I don't see why brave warriors such as yourselves should have to make do with inferior field rations… I guess that sort of self-denial is what makes you such great warriors. I, on the other hand, could really go for some fish stew. Then again, I've never claimed to be a great warrior, let alone the equal in fortitude of the noble and great drow.'
Courun and Haukun looked at each other for a moment, and then said something in the drow tongue. Haukun turned to Woodehous and said, 'Are you really a good cook?'
'The best,' Volo answered in his stead, adding for agreement, 'right?'
'Well, I don't like to brag,' Woodehous responded, seeing the opportunity for a better meal than the rancid jerky, 'but, well, let me put it this way, all of Waterdeep can't be wrong.'
'Let alone Wurlitzer of Skullport,' added the gazetteer. 'He's a noted connoisseur.'
The two drow looked at each other in puzzlement.
'That means he likes good cooking,' Volo quickly explained.
A quick exchange of words between the two, and Haukun took to his feet, grabbed his spear, and positioned himself on the pool's ledge, eyeing the water for a trout. Courun meanwhile arranged some rocks in a pile and said a drow incantation.
In no time at all, the rocks began to glow fiery hot, and a sizeable trout had been freshly speared. Both Woodehous and Volo's hands were unbound, and instructions were given.
'Cook!'
Volo whispered to Woodehous surreptitiously.
'Okay, Percy,' the gazetteer said, 'do your stuff, and you better make it good.'
'I need a pan or a pot of some sort,' Woodehous replied.
'But of course,' Volo agreed. 'Courun, can he borrow your breastplate?'
'Sure,' Haukun replied.
As Courun undid the fastening from his tunic, the chef gazed around the subterranean chamber as if looking for something in particular.
'What are you looking for?' Haukun demanded. 'You have a pan now. Why aren't you cooking?'
Woodehous prepared to place the trout on the breastplate. 'It's just that pan-roasted trout is so bland,' the maitre d'/cook/waiter explained, still looking around. 'Would you do me a favor and fetch me some of the moss from that half-submerged rock over there, and perhaps some of the hanging fungus from that stalactite as well?'
'Why?' the drow demanded.
'You'll see,' Volo assured.
The two drow once again exchanged gazes of puzzlement, and then, with a shrug, Courun set off to fetch the requested ingredients.
Expertly, Woodehous the chef gutted the trout and removed its innards, replacing them with some of the recently obtained hanging fungus. He then added a little water to the breastplate pan and sprinkled some of the fungus into it. The water began to simmer with a truly delicious odor of spice. While the water was heating up, Woodehous rubbed the moss against the outside flesh of the fish until little flecks of vegetation had permeated the meat. He then added the thoroughly seasoned trout to the pan, carefully turning it every few moments so that it cooked both completely and evenly.
