The Lesser Evil

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Chapter 1: The Wedding Guests

Artemis Entreri hated surprises.

He hated them with a fierce, raging passion, to be precise.

The assassin always relied on planned order; it was his oldest and most reliable friend. So when he woke one morning to find his companion, Jarlaxle, standing over him, wearing his usual, stupid grin and saying:

"I have a little surprise for you, my khal abbil,"

Entreri was far from happy.

Artemis Entreri hated surprises with a raging passion, yet here he was, being led through a thick, barely trodden section of the High Forest by his unpredictable partner in pursuit of some kind of surprise. He didn't know why he allowed the flamboyant drow drag him into this position that smelled too much like treachery. He could have stayed at the camp and politely informed his associate that he would have to keep his little surprise to himself, but that only happened in Entreri's head as he stumbled over a dead branch laying over the path as he tried to keep pace with his more nimble companion. He scanned the length of the ever-expanding forest; one hand on his jeweled, life-stealing dagger, the other in the direction of his prized, magic sword, Charon's Claw and all his senses and reflexes ready for anything.

"If you expected a long journey, than why were the horses left at the camp?" Entreri growled. "Did you want to leave two little treats for any passing thief or hungry creature?"

"Relax, friend, the horses have wards on them. The second master dragon clenches his maw in their direction, he will get a mouthful of lightening and our four-legged will be merely perplexed," the drow replied cheerily. "Besides, if we were to charge through these woods on thundering steeds, the surprise would be ruined. Therefore, stealth is of the utmost importance. As you know, stealth and surprise are close cousins."

"I do recall that death is a relative of theirs as well," Entreri said through gritted teeth as he removed a stray twig that had embedded itself into his thick, black hair.

"As is happiness and joy, my grim friend."

"Could you at least tell me where in the Nine Hells this little hike is leading?"

"Now I don't want to spoil our little surprise, but we are going to a small grove but a mile this way. Now no more questions until I am ready to answer them."

Entreri groaned and continued trudging through the heavy brush. At first he suspected treachery, but Jarlaxle seemed to jovial today for a person planning to kill his companion of the past two years; though maybe he had eagerly waited for this moment for a while. After a few more minutes, Jarlaxle stopped where he stood and turned on his heels to face his partner with a swirl of his silver cape. Entreri stopped and swatted away a moth as he regarded the drow. Jarlaxle stood silently, taking in a large breath of fresh, spring air.

"What a happy day this is," the drow said with a song in his voice.

"So is this when I find out the answer to this mystery?" Entreri said.

Jarlaxle bent down and picked a large daisy from the ground, inhaling its sweet aroma as he stood straight, and tucked its long stem in the band of his wide-brimmed, purple hat on the opposite side of the large, diatryma feather. He then walked towards Entreri and placed an ebony hand on his shoulder.

"Now I insist you be on your best behavior," Jarlaxle said. "We wouldn't want you to make a scene and ruin this happy event."

Entreri shot him a curious look and was about to say something, but then he felt a slight pressure against his ribcage. His gray eyes turned down to see a small dagger pressed against his black, leather vest.

"What is this for?" Entreri asked calmly, holding back the urge to rip the dagger from the drow's hand and find a creative place to stick it.

"Nothing you need to fret over," Jarlaxle replied. "All I request of you now is to follow me and be a good sport about the little event you are about to attend. This is a day of happiness, and I think you might enjoy yourself. Now, just a few more steps and you shall have your surprise.

The assassin took another look at the dagger and then met Jarlaxle's calm, yet pleading expression, nodding slowly.

"Fine," he said, "I will be a good little boy. Lead on."

The drow smiled and patted him on the shoulder before nudging him forward to continue the journey, the dagger never leaving its place the entire way. The two walked further through the wood and heard the rising noise of a small crowd. After a few more steps, Entreri peered through the trees to see a gathering of various people all dressed in their fanciest clothes. The two inched closer and took a place beside a large fir that allowed them a clear view of the crowd at a close proximity while allowing them to be unnoticed.

The crowd stood scattered around a small, open section of the wood strewn with garlands of white flowers. Entreri counted around forty-five people in total, many human and elven, but most were dwarf. He didn't recognize any one in particular, but when his eyes reached the front of the crowd, his stomach dropped. Standing in a brown vest over a baggy, white shirt with plain, leather breeches was the dwarven king Bruenor Battlehammer, his red beard tied into braids and his gruff face streaked in tears. Next to him was a large, muscular human whose long, blond hair fell over the shoulders of his blue tunic. Beside Wulfgar was a brown-haired halfling in a garish, red cape over simple traveler's clothes, clutching a white rose in the same hand of which Entreri had liberated a few fingers several years ago.

The assassin didn't want his eyes to wander to the front of the group, but they did anyway to first see a male moon elf facing the crowd in green robes on which hung a wooden pendant of a unicorn's head. Next to the priest of Mielikki stood an all-too familiar dark elf clad in a long, brown, leather vest over a green, linen tunic embroidered with leaves. He wore brown, leather trousers similar to his vest and black, leather boots that reached the tops of his slender calves. His thick, white hair was pulled back in a ponytail, though a thin, white braid brushed against his beaming, ebony face.

Entreri shot a glare to Jarlaxle, who regarded the event with a wide grin. The assassin looked back at his one time arch nemesis and felt his limbs grow numb. The last time he had seen Drizzt Do'Urden was a year back in a tavern in Waterdeep, when Jarlaxle made an attempt at using the ranger's name as an alias. The old bartender simply smiled at him and chuckled.

"So if you're Drizzt Do'Urden, then who's that fellow standing behind you?" the old man said.

Entreri looked back to see a man who should have been dead, but there he was standing with a glass of wine in his hand, lavender eyes wide with stunned surprise. Entreri felt the urge to retch and rip his heart out all in the same second. Instead the two locked stares for what seemed like an eternity, before the assassin groaned and turned toward the door. No blows were traded and no weapons were drawn. He barely even listened when Jarlaxle explained later how his cleric lieutenant, Rai'gy Bondalek, healed his wound on the mercenary's request. All the assassin recalled was hearing something about "His father and I were good friends" and "I wanted to free your mind," though the rest was all a blur of his own struggling pride. After getting a jeweled dagger through the chest, Drizzt Do'Urden was still alive and Artemis Entreri, his intended murderer, didn't care. That part of Entreri's life was over, or so he had hoped. Now he was standing in a grove watching the happiest look he had ever seen on the face of a man he still despised for reasons he could never comprehend.

Entreri was only given a minute to fully digest the situation when the crowd parted and a young woman in a flowing, white dress walked through the middle, her auburn hair crowned with a wreath of leaves and flowing down her shoulders. As the assassin's gaze fell to the bouquet of multi-colored wildflowers she held in her hand, he gave a defeated sigh and decided to ignore the dagger that was still pressed to his chest.

Drizzt scanned the crowd, face frozen in a smile, regarding every hard-earned friend who blessed him with their presence on this wonderful day. He shot a glance to Bruenor, who was the most nervous and emotional he had ever seen him. Wulfgar flashed him a warm smile, but the drow could tell this day was hard for him after all his personal struggles over his feelings for Catti-brie. Regis was like a little ball of sunshine, his smile sending a ray of warmth to the nervous groom. His gaze then returned to Catti-brie, looking the most radiant he had ever seen her.

Together at last, he thought to himself, his smile widening as he mentally caressed her thick, red hair. As Catti-brie walked forward and shot her own glances to her adoptive father and best friends, Drizzt once again looked into the crowd; a small gathering of close friends amid the splendor of the forest. He couldn't have asked for a more beautiful wedding to his beloved Catti-brie.

As he scanned the back of the crowd, a sudden, purple flash caught his eye. He peered a little beyond the trees and saw a wide-brimmed purple hat adorned with a large plume on one side and a daisy on the other. His eyes widened as he stared at the familiar drow, who met his gaze with a broad smile and a tip of his hat. Drizzt then noticed the black-clad figure close beside him. The man's head was slightly bowed and his face was obscured by the brim of a black bolero hat, but his keen vision soon saw the angled face and cold, gray eyes of Artemis Entreri.

Don't mind us Jarlaxle's fingers said in drow sign language. We are merely well-wishers on your joyous day. I guarantee Master Entreri will behave himself.

Drizzt looked down and saw Jarlaxle holding a dagger to Entreri's chest with his other hand. In his mix of confusion and borderline panic, he looked to his arch-nemesis for any immediate signs of struggle, though the assassin's normally confident posture seemed slumped, almost defeated. Entreri looked up and glared at him, but Drizzt observed an expression more of weary resentment than the poisonous rage he wore every time they were in each other's company.

Amazingly, the assassin's long mouth slowly turned up in a reluctant smirk. The drow returned the smile, a part of him sensing the white flag had been finally raised. Drizzt looked again at Jarlaxle and gave a knowing wink, which was greeted with a wide grin and another tip of a plumed hat.

The groom gave a long sigh, his gaze fixing on his beautiful bride as he stood and savored the greatest day of his life.

"On this spring morn, by the blessings of Mielikki and all those who have gathered here in love," the cleric said, raising his hands over the bride and groom, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. May this union be sealed with a kiss."

Drizzt and Catti-brie Do'Urden threw their arms around each other and kissed passionately to a fanfare of loud cheers and shower of white flower petals. They then broke and faced their guests, an arm slung over each other's shoulders. Regis was jumping up and down cheering as the entire group of dwarves raised their fists and gave roars of victory. Bruenor joined in the dwarven salute, though his beard was soaked in tears. Wulfgar clapped and cheered, though his face bore a look of deep pain.

Drizzt then looked to his unexpected guests at the back of the crowd and saw Jarlaxle holding his hat out as shooting stars sprang forth from inside to join the shower of petals, an effect subtle enough to be pretty, yet not attract attention to his presence. He then gave a sweeping bow and returned the hat to his bald head. Entreri remained still, though he met Drizzt's gaze and slowly clapped his gloved hands with an expression of humble defeat.

Jarlaxle gave one last bow, placing his dagger back in its concealed sheath on his belt, and turned to walk away. Entreri stood for a few seconds and flashed a final glance at his one-time enemy, before giving a slight shrug and walking in the direction of his companion.

With his keen ears locked on the cheering crowd, Jarlaxle walked away from the merriment. Fortunately, his ears also caught the sound of heavy boots not far behind him.

"I'm glad to see you decided not to create any new widows," he said, though the dark elf half expected his comment to be met with a dagger to the back.

He looked back to Entreri, whose gaze was fixed on the grass, arms folded over each other and not readying blades. Instead the assassin was silent, his expression almost pensive. Jarlaxle smiled and started whistling a Waterdhavean love song as the two walked through the forest in the direction of their camp.