Sojourn (Forgotten Realms: The Dark Elf Trilogy, #3; Legend of Drizzt, #3)

by R.A. Salvatore

Guilt resembles a sword with two edges. On the one hand it cuts for justice, imposing practical morality upon those who fear it. Guilt, the consequence of conscience, is what separates the goodly persons from the evil.

Guilt is always a self-imposed burden, but is not always rightly imposed.

Is morality not an internal force, and if it is, are principles then to be dictated or felt?

Are these named entities, in truth, actual beings, or are they manifestations of shared beliefs? Are the dark elves evil because they follow the precepts of the Spider Queen, or is Lolth a culmination of the drow’s natural evil conduct? Likewise, when the barbarians of Ice-wind Dale charge across the tundra to war, shouting the name of Tempus, Lord of Battles, are they following the precepts of Tempus, or is Tempus merely the idealized name they give to their actions?

In the end, to a preacher’s ultimate sorrow, the choice of a god is a personal one, and the alignment to a being is in accord with one’s internal code of principles. A missionary might coerce and trick would-be disciples, but no rational being can truly follow the determined orders of any god-figure if those orders run contrary to his own tenets.

“Those who aspire to less accomplish less. There can be no doubt. It is better, I think, to grab at the stars than to sit flustered because you know you cannot reach them.” He shot Drizzt his typical wry smile. “At least he who reaches will get a good stretch, a good view, and perhaps even a low-hanging apple for his effort!”

“You view the gods as entities without,” Montolio tried to explain. “You see them as physical beings trying to control our actions for their own ends, and thus you, in your stubborn independence, reject them. The gods are within, I say, whether one has named his own or not.

There is a wide world out there, my friend, full of pain, but filled with joy as well. The former keeps you on the path of growth, and the latter makes the journey tolerable.

“Promise me now,” Montolio said, “that when Mooshie is no more, Drizzt will go and find his place.”

He remained there for a very long time, watching the last wisps of heat depart from the ranger’s body. But if Mooshie was cold, his contented smile emanated warmth.

They never looked back as they moved down the mountain trail, toward the wide world of pains and joys.

the character of the person would outweigh the color of his skin and the reputation of his heritage.

Drizzt wanted a home, and he wanted to find acceptance, but he realized then, looking at the spoils, that he also desired a place in the books of the bards.