The Crystal Shard (Forgotten Realms: The Icewind Dale, #1; Legend of Drizzt, #4)

by R.A. Salvatore

Tradition. It is the root of who we are, the link to our heritage, the reminder that we as a people, if not individually, will span the ages. To many people and many societies, tradition is the source of structure and of law, the abiding fact of identity that denies the contrary claims of the outlaw, or the misbehavior of the rogue. It is that echoing sound deep in our hearts and our minds and our souls that reminds us of who we are by reinforcing who we were. To many it is even more than the law; it is the religion, guiding faith as it guides morality and society. To many, tradition is a god itself, the ancient rituals and holy texts, scribbled on unreadable parchments yellowed with age or chiseled into eternal rocks. To many, tradition is all. Personally, I view it as a double-edged sword, and one that can cut even more deeply in the way of error.

Tradition. What gravity indeed does that word impart! What power it wields! As it roots us and grounds us and gives us hope for who we are because of who we were, so it also wreaks destruction and denies change. I would never pretend to understand another people well enough to demand that they change their traditions, yet how foolish it seems to me to hold fast and unyieldingly to those mores and ways without regard for any changes that have taken place in the world about us. For that world is a changing place, moved by advancements in technology and magic, by the rise and fall of populations, even by the blending of races, as in the half-elf communities. The world is not static, and if the roots of our perceptions, traditions, hold static, then we are doomed, I say, into destructive dogma. Then we fall upon the darker blade of that double-edged sword.

The young barbarian’s respect for Drizzt continued to grow. Something about the drow, living without complaint in stoic solitude, touched Wulfgar’s sense of honor. He couldn’t yet guess why Drizzt had chosen such an existence, but he was certain from what he had already seen of the drow that it had something to do with principles.

“A king is a man strong of character and conviction who leads by example and truly cares for the sufferings of his people,” he lectured. “Not a brute who rules simply because he is the strongest. I should think you would have learned to understand the distinction.”

“Prayne de crabug ahm keike rinedere be-yogt iglo kes gron!” Wulfgar shouted as he spun on his heel and sprinted off down the corridor, hoping that it didn’t lead to a dead end.

“Where in the nine hells did you ever find the notion that I would fight fair?”