he ate enough to give him the energy he needed to prepare spells and collect himself for his return to Menzoberranzan.
Gromph hadn't moved far from the spot at which he'd first appeared. The Green Fields seemed to be exactly that: an endless open landscape of green grass and other plants. Gromph hadn't seen a building of any kind, and it appeared as if the halflings lived out in the open, slowly but constantly moving.
When the light returned, Gromph knew he would have to be on his way. He cast the last in a series of divinations that would help him not only return to the Prime Material Plane but go back to Toril, back to the Underdark below Faerun, and back to Menzoberranzan herself. It was no mean feat, and certainly Dyrr hadn't expected him to be able to accomplish it, but then Dyrr hadn't expected him to break free of the imprisonment either. The lichdrow's insistence on underestimating him would, possibly, allow Gromph the luxury of beating him. The archmage stood, shielding his eyes from the pervasive light and watched Dietr and one of the females approaching with another tray of fruit. Dietr held a waterskin.
"We thought you might want breakfast," Dietr said.
The halfling looked at Gromph with that same expression of vague hopefulness and fear. The female barely seemed to notice him at all.
"I've had enough of your food," the archmage said, "and I'm taking my leave of your pointless expanse."
"Pointless expanse?" the female repeated, her ambivalence all at once replaced by anger, "Who are you to dismiss the Green Fields?"
"Who are you to speak to me at all?" Gromph asked.
He waited for an answer, but all he got was a squinting sneer from the winged female. Dietr's eyes bounced back and forth between them, and his breathing grew shallow and expectant.
"Leave me in peace," Gromph commanded.
When the two halflings didn't immediately turn to leave, the archmage raised an eyebrow. The female did her best to stare him down, but her best wasn't anywhere near good enough.
"You were alive once," Gromph asked her, "weren't you?"
Neither of the halflings responded right away.
"This one"-Gromph indicated Dietr with a wave of his hand-"was a living, material being on Faerun. Where did you live before you went to your Great Beyond?"
Again the female said nothing.
"I'll admit to being curious," Gromph went on. "If you died on whatever world you came from and your soul came here to rest in peace for all eternity, what happens when I kill you here? Does your soul go somewhere else, or are you consigned to oblivion? Will one of your weakling halfling godlings stop me? Even a halfling god on his home plane can be an inconvenience I'm sure, but it might be amusing to make the effort anyway."
"If you think you can kill me, interloper," the female sneered, "try it now or shut up."
Gromph smiled, and it must have been that expression that made Dietr finally step forward, his hands held out in a gesture of weak conciliation.
"Easy," he said. "Easy there, everybody."
Gromph laughed.
"That's better," said Dietr, a grin plastered across his cherubic face. "If the venerable drow would like to leave, then he's certainly free to go on his way." "There will be no violence here," the female said, her voice even and strong. "If I have to blast you to pieces to ensure that. . ."
"We've all been blasted to pieces at least once, haven't we?" Dietr said. "No one wants to do that again, so let's all be friends."
Gromph took a deep breath and said, "I will be leaving, but there will be residual effects from the gate, and you won't want to go where I'm going. Back away or not, I'll leave that up to you."
The female continued to stare daggers at him, but still she drifted the slightest bit back from the archmage.
Gromph looked her up and down. She was half his size, and she looked ridiculous. The whole world looked ridiculous-the whole world was ridiculous. Dyrr had sent him there on purpose, and looking at the winged halfling in her grass-infested setting made Gromph angrier and angrier by the second. Dyrr was trying to get rid of him, was trying to dismiss him by sending him to that pastoral universe, and Gromph Baenre, Archmage of Menzoberranzan, would not be dismissed.
"Fine," Gromph said, and he began to cast his spell.
He was only vaguely aware of the female moving farther away, and he assumed that Dietr was doing the same thing.