In Faerun, in Icewind Dale, Drizzt's friends were accustomed to his coming and going months at a time, sometimes only returning to the shelter of his mountain, or the mountain of Kelven's Cairn, when winter reared high and to chance the open tundra was the taunt death. That wasn't to say he wasn't touched Llewellyn asked after him, but it was simply different than his norm.

He nodded at the question. "I've been well, yes. You, however, seem to doubt yourself." It was a casual observation. He hadn't known Llewellyn terribly long, but they had spent time together, time enough to note tension in a friend's eyes.