work, you see. Yet, how many of these other slaves did you see when you came into Rico's compound, Drizzt Do'Urden?“ He knew that I had not seen any, and I was not surprised by his explanation. I was beginning to hate this Rico Pengallen more than a little. ”Rico finished with them,“ Nojheim went on. 'They lost their ability to survive. They lost their usefulness. Did you notice the high cross-pole beside the front gate?” I shuddered when I pictured what use that cross-pole might have been put to. “I'm alive, and I'll stay alive,” Nojheim declared. Then, for the first time, the determined goblin allowed his guard to slip down, his sullen expression betraying his words. “You wish that the raiding ogres would have killed you,” I said to him, and he offered no argument. For some time we sat in silence, silence that weighed heavily on both of us. I knew that I could not let this injustice stand, could not turn my back on one-even a goblin- who so obviously needed help. I considered the courses open to me and came to the conclusion that to truly remedy this injustice, I must use what influence I could. Like most of the farming villages in the region, Pengallen was not an independent community. The people here were within the general protection of, and therefore, under the overseeing law of the greater cities nearby. I could appeal to Alustriel, who ruled Silverymoon, and to Bruenor Battlehammer, the nearest king and my dearest friend. “Perhaps some day I will find the strength to stand against Rico,” Nojheim said unexpectedly, pulling me from my contemplations. I remember his next words vividly. “I am not a courageous goblin. I prefer to live, though oftentimes I wonder what my life is truly worth.” My father could have said those very words. My father, Zak'nafein, too, was a slave, though a slave of a different sort. Zak'nafein lived well in Menzoberranzan, but he detested the dark elves and their evil ways. He saw no escape, though, no way out of the drow city. For lack of courage, he lived his life as a drow warrior, survived by following those same codes that were so abhorrent to him. I tried to remind Nojheim again that I had escaped a similar fate, that I had walked out of a desperate situation. I explained that I had traveled among peoples who surely hated me and feared me for the reputation of my heritage. 'You are drow, not any goblin,“ he replied again, and this time I began to understand the meaning behind his words. ”They will never understand that I am not evil in heart, as are other goblins. I don't even understand it!“ ”But you believe it,“ I said firmly. ”Am I to tell them that this goblin is not an evil sort?"
“Exactly that!” I argued. It seemed reasonable enough to me. I thought that I had found the opening I needed. Nojheim promptly closed that door, promptly taught me something about myself and about the world that I had not previously considered. “What is the difference between us?” I pressed, hoping he would see my understanding of the truth. “You think yourself persecuted?” the goblin asked. His yellow eyes narrowed, and I knew that he thought he was being shrewd. “I no longer accept that definition, just as I no longer accept the persecution,” I declared. My pride had suddenly got in the way of understanding what this pitiful wretch was getting at. “People will draw their own judgments, but I will no longer accept their unfair conclusions.” “You will fight those that do you wrong?” Nojheim asked. “I will deny them, ignore them, and know in my heart that I am right in my beliefs.” Nojheim's smile revealed both an honest happiness that I had found my way, and a deeper sorrow-for himself, I came to know. “Our situations are not the same,” he insisted. I started to protest, but he stopped me with an upraised hand. “You are drow, exotic, beyond the experiences of the vast majority of people you meet.” “Almost everyone of the surface has heard horrible tales of the drow,” I tried to reason. “But they have not dealt directly with drow elves!” Nojheim replied sharply. “You are an oddity to them, strangely beautiful,