The teleportation scroll had been a more powerful one then Ranoth had expected. It took them directly to the doors of the Academy of Arms. Both Bruenor and Ranoth had got jobs there, but first there was some unfinished business to attend to. Ranoth’s training under Drizzt. So into the academy they went. Bruenor told Ranoth to go to Drizzt and finish his training, while Bruenor just walked away. Ranoth went to the Arena and Fencing Circles to find Drizzt. He took a quick glance around, but saw no Drizzt. He asked around to see if they had seen Drizzt lately. Nothing. Where had he gone? Ranoth wondered to himself. Finally he got his answer. He was dead. He had gone out of the Academy to kill some zombies that had come too far to the Academy and caught a deadly disease from the rotting and festering flesh of the undead. Ranoth tried to hold back his emotions but he could not. Drizzt knew what Ranoth had done, how to get through his troubles, and how to calm himself. He yelled at nothing in particular just the world, his life, his problems, his suffering. And for two days Ranoth locked himself in a room and on the third:

********

Ranoth had been a dormitory for two days straight. He had not eaten, and was weak, but that didn’t stop him from getting up and walking to tell Bruenor.

“He’s dead,” Ranoth stated as he neared Bruenor sitting on a bench.
“One less bloody drow elf here,” Bruenor muttered not loud enough for Ranoth to hear.
“So I guess I’ll never finish my training,” Ranoth said calming down.
“Ye durned fool! That was ye’re final test!” Bruenor yelled, “Ye helped me kill that bastard Quenthico’sun, and ye guarded me back!”
Ranoth mumbled under his breath knowing Bruenor was almost right. It would never take back his guilt, but it would suffice…for now…