Author's Note: I do not own this intellectual property. This fan-created story takes place after Servant of the Shard and before any of the short stories. This story was co-written with Ariel D.
Artemis Entreri's Biggest Fan
Artemis and Jarlaxle were just trying to walk from the boarding house to the tavern of the small town where they'd stopped for the time being. A young man with fair skin and limp black hair stepped out in front of them. Jarlaxle doubted he was older than eighteen. His long black surcoat was similar in style to Artemis' greatcoat. He also wore black breeches, black boots, and black fingerless gloves.
"What?" Artemis demanded.
To Jarlaxle's astonishment, the young man drew a rather lackluster sword with a black cobra design as the hilt. He pointed the sword at Artemis. "I want to fight you and stuff." He shook his head to flip his hair out of his face. His voice was deep and rather sulky.
Jarlaxle half expected the young human to die instantly.
"No," Artemis said flatly. He kept right on walking.
Hmm. He's feeling tolerant today. This might be interesting, Jarlaxle thought. He kept pace with his partner.
The young man followed. "You're famous."
Jarlaxle was amused. He kept his distance, but he was amused. Keep pushing and you might die after all.
"You're Artemis Entreri. You have that cool sword, where's your sword, I want to see it."
Artemis sighed. "You want to fight me? Or you want to see my sword?"
"Either. People say Drizzt is better," the boy said.
Artemis cast a dark look over his shoulder.
"Which people?" Jarlaxle asked.
"Like, everybody. They say you're lame because you were just obsessed with Drizzt Do'Urden and you didn't have a life of your own and you never won." He ran a hand through his limp hair. "And you're evil. But I like that."
"That sounds ominous," Jarlaxle remarked.
The young man laughed. "Ominous? You're weird. You use weird words and make everything hard to understand. Why do you dress like a fag?"
Jarlaxle opened his mouth and shut it again. He discovered that for once, he didn't know what to say.
Artemis glared at the boy. "I don't care what other people think."
"Well, I don't agree with them anyway," the boy said. "I mean, I used to. But now I'm like, 'you're cool.'"
Artemis stared. "Where in the Nine Hells did you even come from?"
"Hey, are you going to show me your sword or not? Don't you have it anymore? Where's Charon's Claw? Why doesn't your vampire dagger have a name?"
"First of all, it is not a 'vampire dagger', it is a vampiric dagger," Jarlaxle admonished.
"Whatever. Why don't you name it? Drizzt named his weapons."
Artemis snorted. "I never name unnamed weapons. That's silly." He smirked. "But I guess I could name it Sucks."
The boy appeared to take this seriously. He gave a slow nod with a half-lidded stare. "Badass."
Artemis sighed. "I suppose you would think so."
The boy circled around in front of Artemis. "So are you going to fight me?"
"This boy has a serious obsession with you, Artemis," Jarlaxle said. "I think he might be your next great rival." He couldn't help himself; the situation amused him too greatly not to stir things up.
Artemis snorted. "Well, in that case, you fight him first. Let's see if he's worthy of fighting me at all." He gave Jarlaxle a tight little smile.
Jarlaxle held up one hand. "Oh, I don't think –"
"I can beat Jarlaxle," the boy said immediately, scowling. "He's a fag."
"Why do you think that?" Artemis asked.
"Because he has a rainbow-colored cape and wears bright colors," the boy said.
"It's not rainbow-colored. It shines with different colors depending on the light," Artemis said. "And at least he doesn't have a pet unicorn."
"But he's a fag," the boy said. "He prances around and makes penis jokes. He likes jewelry and he totally let Kimmuriel steal Bregan D'aerthe out from under him because he's a pussy. And he wears that whore vest."
Jarlaxle's mouth twitched. "Whore…vest?"
"Because you look like a whore," the boy said.
"Thank you. That explanation was not particularly necessary," Jarlaxle said through gritted teeth.
"And so that means you can beat Jarlaxle in a sword fight?" Artemis asked. He wasn't even sure he could do that. In their sparring, they tended to break even in wins and losses, so Artemis had no such assurance that he could beat Jarlaxle if they got serious. "Then by all means, draw your sword on him."
"Uh, right. Then I get to fight you, right?" The boy turned and leveled his sword at Jarlaxle. "So, don't cheat and stuff. Cause I know you do."
Jarlaxle did not often let out derisive laughs. Merry laughs, wry laughs, and surprised laughs, certainly. This was a rare occasion. Cheat. Cheat? I don't think a drunken Halfling would need to cheat in order to achieve victory over you. He'd gone from being amused to being rankled. "All right."
He flexed his wrists and stripped off all of his magical items, delaying the confrontation by at least fifteen minutes in the process, and elongated his short sword into a longsword. "The power to extend is the only enchantment this weapon has. You'll have to settle for that as a guarantee of not cheating. I don't have another sword."
Artemis stood by, wondering why Jarlaxle was taking this so seriously. Jarlaxle would likely beat the boy in three seconds, after all. "Well, this should be . . . interesting."
The boy didn't make any moves, he just stared Jarlaxle down.
Jarlaxle came in with a slow feint, trying to see what would happen.
The boy blocked Jarlaxle's feint with very little strength, but turned aside the blade.
Jarlaxle frowned. "I really should take pity on you."
"I practice sword fighting with my friends every day," the boy retorted. "We go out in the woods and try to beat each other off." He scowled. "Don't try to make that sound faggy. You'll make me mad."
"I don't think I need to," Jarlaxle said.
"You made me mad. I'm mad now."
"Are you mentally slow? Where are your parents?" Artemis could tell for sure this would be a sad, sad fight, even without knowing the answer.
Jarlaxle tested the boy's reflexes with a slow and simple combination of attacking the boy's chest, shoulder, and then driving the boy's sword high, as one would when training a child. The boy's reflexes were pitifully slow and untested.
The boy's expression went slack as he found himself being flung wide open to attack.
Jarlaxle rushed in with a quick step and shoved the boy' chest with the flat of his free hand.
The boy tumbled back and landed on his ass.
Jarlaxle bowed. "I win. Now collect yourself and stand and bid us farewell."
The boy stared at him with a look of dawning ire. "That's not real fighting."
"Isn't it?" Jarlaxle returned. "It was a real fight, and I effectively incapacitated you."
"No you didn't!" The boy leapt to his feet. "You didn't cut my head off, you just pushed me over. Anybody could do that."
"And somebody did," Jarlaxle said.
Artemis had watched this with a mix of amusement and irritation. "I won't fight you," he said simply. "Jarlaxle could knock you over with his hand; he didn't even have to decapitate you. Drizzt would do the same. And that means so would I."
"No," the boy retorted.
"Yes," Jarlaxle said in a matching tone, smiling. He propped one hand on his hip and waggled his sword with the other. "You should go home before you get hurt. Considering your level of skill, anyone you encounter is capable of doing that. You should hope that politeness and a prudent head instead of one filled with steam will get you through your journey safely."
"I'm not going. I want a do-over. You cheated."
Jarlaxle sighed. "If using my hands is cheating, I'll kick you to the ground."
"No, you won't."
Artemis had a truly wicked idea. "I'll strike a deal with you. Get Drizzt to train you for a solid year, then come back. I'll fight you then. But it has to be a full year." He held up one finger.
"I will." The boy raised his chin with a fresh scowl. "I'll train with Drizzt Do'Urden, and I'll beat him, and then I'll come back and beat you."
Jarlaxle began the process of dressing himself. "What an excellent idea. Your match against Artemis should be most sporting, with the famous Drizzt Do'Urden being your trainer."
"Yeah," the boy agreed. "Drizzt will train me. Then everyone will be jealous, and I'll beat you."
"Yes," Artemis said in what Jarlaxle knew to be a Very Dangerous Voice. "That will be the best possible fate." He didn't say for whom.
xXx
Drizzt was meditating in the snow-covered woods when a somewhat monotonous voice intruded. "Train me."
The ranger opened his eyes to find a young man with limp black hair standing in front of him, giving him the most unnerving stare. Still, Drizzt could not sense anything threatening about the stranger. He stood. I've never had someone seek me out as a mentor before. Perhaps my reputation finally speaks to my honorable nature. "Certainly. If you are sincere."
"Yeah," the boy said. "I'm that."
Three days, and an endless stream of inane, personal, or mystifying questions later, the boy stopped their afternoon training session. "This is boring. Why am I doing this? It's hard. We haven't even sparred yet. Why do we have to do this outdoors? It's cold. There's water in my boots. I'm hungry."
"Perhaps if you rest, you'll feel better," Drizzt said. "Why don't you sit for a short while?"
"I've got blisters on my fingers. I have to pee. I'll get a sinus infection out here."
"You'll not develop a sinus infection. Even if you did, we would take you to one of King Bruenor's healers," Drizzt said patiently.
"This sucks. I quit."