Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything that R.A. Salvatore made. If I did, do you think I'd be sitting in front of my computer typing my little fingers to the bone just to amuse myself? No - I'd be out there making the BIG bucks!

WARNING: Yes, this is a slash fic. That's male/male, folks. If you have a prob with it, don't read it. Flames (depending how interesting and unique they are) will either be disregarded or laughed at.

Author's Note: Well, this thing just popped into my head one day and I decided I'd see what people thought of it. This story is about a young Entreri - around eighteen or nineteen years old. That should explain the slight OOC-ness of him, because he hasn't quite grown into the regal assassin that encounters Drizzt.


He opened the door to his room and walked in, already tired from the day's events. Even tired, though, Entreri's sharpened senses noted something quite out of place in his room. His eyes flickered around the room, and then rested on a bundle of rags of various shades of gray, curled up on the floor a few feet from the foot of his bed.

Entreri walked into his room and nudged the side of the bundle with his boot. It recoiled from the touch and a head lifted up. Entreri was surprised, surely, but he had the emotion well hidden. The face looking up at him – he knew it to be an elven lad easily enough. That in itself was surprising for why would an elf be in his room?

What the assassin's eyes were really drawn to, however, were not the peaked ears identifying the intruder, or the slightly dazed look in those large crystal eyes. A big, purpling bruise caught Entreri's immediate attention. It looked as though someone had attempted to strangle the elven lad.

Entreri paused, wondering what to do with this unexpected occurrence. He could kill the elf, of course, but he would prefer not to – at least for the time being.

Something seemed to click in the elf at that moment and he threw himself at Entreri.

The assassin had his dagger out and was ready for an attack. Instead of an attack, however, the elf flung his arms around Entreri and began to cry silently, his face buried in the assassin's shoulder. For once in his life, Entreri was at a complete and total loss. He resheathed the jeweled dagger carefully. Then, he attempted to pry the elf off of him. It didn't work.

Entreri was fairly certain that if there had been a little space between them he could have easily twisted out of the elf's grip. However, in a situation like this one – well, it wouldn't be quite as easy as that. Instead of twisting the elven arms off him, Entreri twisted his own arms around behind his head to catch hold of his visitor's wrists. The positioning was quite uncomfortable. Entreri's arms protested their contorting vehemently. But he got the hold he needed to peel the elf off him.

Entreri held him out at arm's length, noting everything about him from the tangled hair and lost gaze to his rag-tag clothing and slightly unhealthy look. Entreri frowned. From what little he knew of elves – and admittedly, it was very little – this condition was not normal. Even more so, he surmised, was the frightened look of a wounded animal intermingled with some other, less discernible emotion. The assassin didn't like what he saw, in short.

The elf's trembling hadn't ceased – to the contrary, it had increased. Entreri's hands on the elf's shoulders were the only things keeping him on his feet. Almost as if on cue, the elf swooned and Entreri only just moved quickly enough to catch him and keep him from cracking his head open on the edge of the bed.

Supporting the fragile creature in his arms, Entreri let his eyes flicker towards the door, still open. No one was there. Good. The assassin considered his burden for a long moment. For what he was about to do, he figured it would be best to leave the elf here. Unceremoniously, Entreri dumped the elf onto the bed.

He was halfway to the door when he heard a stifled sob and turned around to see the elf, looking at him, crystal eyes wide open. His lips moved but no sound came out.

Entreri whirled about, left the room, pulled the door shut and locked it. From now on he was always going to lock his doors, the assassin promised himself. He didn't want any more uninvited visitors.

The assassin's measured steps brought him to the main room of the inn – the one that doubled as a tavern during the day and partway into the night. He spotted the innkeeper, speaking with a pair of men who looked like street toughs. Entreri walked up anyway and gave the innkeeper an appraising look.

"I had an uninvited guest in my room," he said icily. "Is there so little room available here that you dump any new guests in with old ones?"

The innkeeper opened his mouth and shut it. He blinked once or twice. Entreri kept his cold gaze fixed on the man the whole time. The innkeeper rubbed sweaty palms against his shirt hem and opened his mouth again. "'E said 'e knew ya," the man answered, his voice trembling a bit. It was rather obvious that he was nervous around Entreri, but then again, who wasn't?

The assassin smiled to himself. He replied softly, "Do you even know who he is?"

The innkeeper nodded and seemed on even ground once again. "Oh, aye," he answered a little offhandedly. "That there, 'e's Terrin. Claimed 'e was tha son o' one o' tha elf kings an' wanted a taste o' mortal life fer a change. Rather queer lad, 'e is." The innkeeper shrugged. "'E insisted 'e knew ya. Said 'I know Artemis Entreri. I know 'im'so I says to 'im, well ya may be knowin' 'im an' mebbie not. So 'e asked which room yer t' be staying' in an' I told 'im."

Entreri noticed that the man refused to meet his eyes as he told his story and chuckled nervously at the end.

"And?" he pressed eyes dangerous.

The innkeeper looked shocked. "An' what? 'E found yer room, I'm ter be guessin', otherwise why'd ya be here askin', right?"

Entreri had had enough of this man's babbling. "What about the bruises on his neck?" he asked casually – too casually. Even as the question came out, he was fingering the hilt of his dagger.

The innkeeper's face paled noticeably. "B-bruises?" he stuttered. "D-didn't s-see no b-bruises on 'im, t' b-be sure –" He stopped speaking right away when the assassin pulled out the weapon.

I grow weary of your ill-prepared excuses," he said softly. "Tell me – what hurt the elf?"

The innkeeper mumbled something under his breath too softly for even Entreri to hear.

"So I can hear you," commanded the assassin.

"I did," the innkeeper said a little louder. "Wasn't doin' 'is work – shirker-like, ya know?" He rambled on in the same vein for sometime, Entreri nodding at appropriate intervals until the innkeeper believed he'd satisfied the assassin. Then he turned to leave.

Entreri caught him by the shoulder. "Is there someone to inherit this lovely place?" he asked in a falsely sincere voice.

Not picking up on the game, the innkeeper nodded. "M' nephew –" he began, but Entreri cut off his words. Cut them off at the tip of a dagger.

To the corpse, Entreri replied, "Then I hope your nephew is in town." He cleaned his dagger on the front of the man's shirt, ignoring the stares he was collecting from the other patrons. With an abrupt turn, Entreri stalked back to the stairs and silently ascended to his room – still locked. He pulled out the key and unlocked the door.

To his surprise, the elf – Terrin, if the innkeeper was to be believed – was in the same position he'd been in when Entreri had left. Odd. Distinctly odd. Entreri came up to the side of the bed. Terrin's eyes followed him the whole way. They were still wide and fearful, but that fear seemed to be tempered by another emotion the assassin could not put a name to. In short, the elf's face was glowing with hero-worship.

It made Entreri uncomfortable. He wasn't in his line of work to be worshiped, after all. Let the priests of obscure cults deal with that sort of thing. Entreri himself would take a bout with swords over worship of any deity any day.

They stayed like that for quite a while, Entreri squirming under the pure adoration and awe rolling off the elf with those crystal eyes fixed right on his own. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elf blinked. Entreri was released. He shook his head a bit to clear it. He didn't want this creature in his room any longer than necessary.

He made a move toward the elf – and registered acute shock when he was faced with his own dagger, warding him back in the elf's hands. How had the elf gotten a hold of it? Entreri had to wonder. He checked the sheath where he kept his weapon and discovered it empty. So it wasn't a cleverly done illusion.

He reached forward with both hands, securing a grasp on both of Terrin's wrists with one – the elf was by far and large too damn skinny Entreri decided – and plucked the blade carefully from the loosened grasp with the other.

Terrin didn't overtly fight Entreri, but neither did he relinquish the weapon as quickly as the assassin could have wished. Finally he got the damn dagger back – without letting its blade touch either the elf or himself – and placed it in its respective home.

Part of the assassin was severely annoyed by this problem that had dumped itself on his lap. The other part, while not really pleased, exactly, was quite intrigued by this elf.

Entreri thought longingly of resting his legs by sitting (he'd been standing most of the day!), but instead backed up a few paces to lean casually on the wall. He cast yet another glance at the door before regarding Terrin again. "What is your name?" he inquired evenly. His tone wasn't the soft threat-voice he usually spoke in. It was more of a natural tone, slightly musical – low tenor perhaps.

The elf opened his mouth and a jumble of sounds came tumbling out. It sounded something like 'Terinistellientalier' but Entreri wasn't quite sure. He was relieved when the elf lowered his crystal gaze to his hands and whispered, "Most call me Terrin."

Entreri cocked an eyebrow. "With I name like that, I'm not very surprised," he remarked. "It's a wonder the bearer of such a long name can remember it; to expect casual acquaintances to as well is quite close to insanity." A slight flush rose in the elf's cheeks, as though those words evoked some unwanted thought.

"So," the assassin continued, still in that slightly musical voice, "you are Terrin." The elf flinched noticeably. Entreri ignored it. "Now, Terrin –" again he flinched and the assassin had to restrain himself from reaching out and shaking him until his teeth rattled. "What are you doing here? You told the innkeeper you knew me. I want to know what you want." He paused before adding, "Usually I don't find visitors passed out on my floor."

The elf was trembling, Entreri noted with passing interest. He'd probably been shaking through the whole encounter. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Just when Entreri was considering using brute force to make him speak, the elf burst out a rather jumbled narrative. It took several minutes to tell, lengthened some – what with Terrin's habit of flinching slightly every now and again.

Ever attentive, the assassin made careful note of the fact that Terrin flinched whenever he mentioned the innkeeper. He stored that tidbit away, possibly for later use.

At the end of the narrative, Entreri had garnered several key bits of information. First, this elf was – or had been, rather – terrified of the innkeeper for some reason. Second, Terrin had absolutely no contact with any of his kin at all, or even elves in general. Last, Entreri noted that his original question – what Terrin was doing here in the first place – had gone entirely unanswered. Once again he asked the question. Once again his query was delicately side-stepped.

Not infuriated, but surely frustrated, Entreri put the issue aside for now. He was tired. "Do you have anywhere you're supposed to be?" he asked.

Terrin looked up, surprise and panic playing across his face. "N-no! Please –" he said quickly.

Entreri nodded for the elf to go on when he faltered.

"I – well, I mean," Terrin faltered. The assassin waited for the elf to get sorted out. "I knew you," Terrin said softly. "I just couldn't keep away that feeling so I asked Barlon where you were rooming. He looked at me really funny – mad and scared at the same time. Then – then –" Terrin rubbed a hand along his collar bone and neck.

Entreri guessed he was referring to the bruises he'd collected from the innkeeper. He nodded and Terrin gulped noticeably but went on.

"I came here, like he said," the elf told Entreri. "Barlon said not to disturb anyone if I valued my 'pretty face'." Terrin made a face at that. "Not so pretty a face anyway," he muttered under his breath.

"And?" Entreri prompted, pretending he hadn't caught that last bit.

"So I came here and waited for you, but I must have fallen or something…" he trailed off and looked slightly embarrassed as well as confused. It wasn't hard for Entreri to put the pieces togther. Likely the elf was a servant of some sort here to the innkeeper. Judging from the elf's scrawny appearance and sudden collapses, the assassin also judged that he was malnourished and very weak. Not a good combination when taverns and 'pretty faces' were mixed in.

Drunk, it might not be all that difficult to mistake the elf for a female, Entreri mused. The long hair and big eyes would further add to that impression if the viewer was heavily enough imbued with alcohol or ignorant of elves. The features that struck Entreri as decidedly masculine were not really all that obvious to a casual observer.

The elf began speaking again and Entreri locked his gaze on those crystal eyes. They stared back, creating a hypnotic atmosphere in the room. It lulled both of them into an abstract feeling. Entreri, the heartless assassin would not have recognized it. Terrin, the elf raised among tavern scum and killers could not either, though he felt the change in the room. Words floated out of his mouth, spoken softly.

"I know you… But who are you?"

It broke the feeling instantly – sent it fleeing from the place light a frightened deer. The words shattered the perfection like a mirror struck in the center by a fine blade. Entreri caught himself. He'd been one split second away from moving forward – taking that critical step into the elf's domain.

Now he paused instead, hearing Terrin's question echo in his head. It was not doubt possible the elf had heard of him. His reputation was wide-spread, after all. The question though, that question was bringing a few question to Entreri's mind as well as putting him on full alert. He wasn't sure he approved of this elf questioning him at all. "What do you mean 'Who are you'?" the assassin replied harshly. He didn't even notice Terrin flinch back away at the tone of his voice. "I am Artemis Entreri. You knew that – still know it. The most important question now, I believe is where are you going to go?"

Terrin blanched. "You're sending me out?" he asked in a pitiful whisper, clutching at the graying rags that served him as clothing.

Impatient, the assassin shook his head. "No, I'm not. I just happen to be very tired and too lazy to find you a place to go besides here." He eyed the floor doubtfully. It would make an uncomfortable night, he knew and for a very brief moment he entertained notions of letting the elf sleep on the bed. With a half snarl that was directed mainly at nothing, Entreri pulled the covers off the bed and arranged them neatly on the floor to form a sort of 'nest' for Terrin to sleep in.

"There," he said, pointing to the blankets. "That should do you for tonight." And I'll get rid of you in the morning when I can think, he added silently to himself. Carelessly the assassin threw himself down onto the bed and pulled off his boots – the only article he removed before turning over to sleep.

Distantly he heard Terrin settling himself down as well and wondered how on earth he'd ended up with an elf in the room at all. The story of the elf being here was obviously incomplete, Entreri could see. Well, he'd think about it in the morning, he decided with an air of finality. It would be easier to think then. Perhaps a good night's sleep might help him shed a new light on the situation.

And so Entreri fell asleep. Not for the slightest instant in all of his musings did he even think about the possibility of the elf harming him. Maybe it was Terrin's appearance – so scared and helpless looking. Maybe it had been because the assassin really was too tired to be thinking clearly. Whatever the reason, Entreri had easily fallen asleep without even making sure he slept lightly – ready to wake at the slightest sound.