Author's Note: I think I have too much fun doing this. Really. Well, the updates are going to take a while on account on my beta being awesome and looking through everything I write at least a jillion times.


The sun came up slowly, pouring in through the open window. It bathed the room in a lightly golden hue, evoking the feel of a timeless place. Entreri came awake all at once, taking in his room and the light without a second thought to either. His thoughts were focused on his 'visitor', that elf who still was asleep.

Just by looking at him though, the assassin could tell it was a troubled sleep at best. He debated for a moment whether to wake the elf or not. Then a bell clanged loudly and he didn't have to worry anymore about making a choice.

Terrin sprang to his feet at the sound of the bell and looked around wildly, relaxing only when his eyes lit upon Entreri. For a short moment the assassin wondered if Terrin would throw himself at him again, as he had on their first meeting. Instead of doing that, the elf delicately picked his way towards the assassin and – much to Entreri's relief – did not come any closer than a couple of feet.

A silence stretched rather uncomfortably as the two eyed each other. Finally Terrin broke the stillness with a quick "Good morning," and scampered back to the piled bedclothes. He tugged futilely at them in an attempt to force them into some semblance of order. For a moment Entreri just watched. Then he rose to his feet and went over to Terrin – currently wrestling with the thick, bulky quilt – and helped the outmatched elf fold it.

The assistance made the job complete itself much more quickly than it would have done otherwise and before too long had passed, there was a neatly folded pile of bedclothes stacked at one end of the room.

After the completion of that particular chore, the uncomfortable atmosphere of the room returned and Entreri made for the door. "Are you coming for breakfast?" he inquired of Terrin.

The elf considered the question for a moment before shaking his head. He would have pressed the matter, but he didn't know what the elf's reaction would be. As he closed the door and headed for the steps, Entreri had to wonder why he cared. True, last night had been a most eventful night because of his unexpected visitor, but that did not explain the way the assassin's thoughts kept darting back to circle around Terrin. Entreri dismissed it easily enough and went to find a good breakfast.

He pushed open the door, wondering vaguely if Terrin was still here For some reason he wasn't very surprised to find the elf lying curled up under the window sill, sleeping. At least, Entreri assumed he was asleep. There were, of course, darker possibilities. He could be dead, unconscious, planning murder… That last one had him shaking his head. No, Entreri had come to the conclusion that Terrin would not murder him in his sleep. If he'd planned on doing that, last night would have been a perfect opportunity.

Much to his own chagrin, while he was out for food, Entreri had played over the events of the previous night in his mind and come to a startling conclusion. He had fallen into a real sleep last nigh, even with Terrin in the room. The hazy nighttime pictures that he associated with the half-sleeping awareness usual of 'sleep' had been replaced with a real dream – probably the first in years. However, its subject matter sorely confused the assassin. Who dreamed about watching grass grow, anyway?

Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Terrin's frail body made Entreri growl silently. Whatever the damn elf said to the contrary, he needed to eat! The few apples Entreri had picked up would suffice for now, but sooner or later the assassin planned on stuffing real food into the elf.

Carefully Entreri shut the door and strode over to the bed, careful not to make much of a noise of any kind. He didn't want to wake Terrin. The elf probably was sleep-deprived as well as malnourished. And, Entreri decided, he needed to do something with that bird's nest of hair. It was matted in places, snarls adorned it like beads and the color was dull.

He frowned for a moment wondering where he might e able to find a brush to work out the worst of it. A face came to mind then, that of a young lady who'd been in the inn's main room last night on his search for the innkeeper. She'd been holding a brush.

Again the assassin rose to his feet and left the room. He was fairly certain that he knew where the young lady would be housed and he trusted in his skills to appropriate the brush – just for a little while.

The brush firmly in hand, Entreri strode back into his room to find Terrin, seated cross-legged by the window singing softly. He stopped abruptly at the assassin's entry and scrambled to his feet.

"Come here," Entreri ordered. Terrin slunk forward like a whipped cur. Entreri ignored it. Instead of reacting, he propelled the elf firmly but gently to the edge of the bed and made him sit down. Then Entreri sat next to him and lifted a chunk of ratty hair in one hand. "We need to do something about the state this is in," he informed Terrin.

The elf squirmed a little under the intensity of Entreri's gaze.

"Just hold still and I'll try to keep from hurting you." With tentative strokes of the brush, Entreri began to set Terrin's hair back into its proper order. It was not an easy business. The assassin suspected that the elf had never brushed his hair at all. There were terrible tangles that took an hour or so to undo and vicious snarls that resembled knotted balls of yarn rather than fine hair.

After a few hours of the battle with Terrin's hair, Entreri set down the brush. The elf was by no means immaculate now. He still had hair bearing obvious signs of neglect and ill care, but the worst had been fixed and the assassin was a bit too tense to continue. He wanted a break, and from the look on Terrin's face, the elf welcomed the end as well.

Entreri found the bag of apples and thrust one into Terrin's hands without asking whether or not he wanted it. Terrin stared at the fruit in feigned distaste and tried to hand it back. Entreri shook his head. "Eat it," he prompted. Terrin shook his head. Entreri, tired of the elf's poor cooperation resorted to a threat. He pulled out his dagger and pointed it lazily at Terrin. "Now see here," he said slowly and clearly. "If you do not eat that apple, I will have to hurt you. And," he glanced at the window, "it really seems to be too lovely a day for killing."

Terrin went white at that, but then caught the hint of a real smile flitting across Entreri's face and tentatively smiled back. The assassin motioned once again for Terrin to eat the apple and this time the elf dove in without any hesitation.

As he watched Terrin devour the apple – core, stem and all – Entreri found himself making plans for the ensured well-being of the elf. More surprising still, the assassin noted with a bit of panic that he kept thinking of Terrin as being 'his' elf. He shook the jittery feeling that thought gave him and focused instead on Terrin who was licking his fingers, all traces of the apple entirely vanished.

A second apple was offered and again Terrin refused, but this time Entreri didn't press the matter. Instead of making the elf eat, he put the fruit back in the bag he'd pulled it out of and relaxed, leaning back on the bed. It'd been a long time – too long – since the last time he'd just been able to sit around for a while and relax.

A few thought nagged at Entreri, reminding him of several questions he'd meant to ask earlier. In some way he'd picked up the idea that Terrin would be coming with him when he left for Calimport in two or three days. He wasn't quite sure where that particular notion had come from, but judging by the still-hero worship that rolled off the elf, if the assassin asked, Terrin would comply. It could be useful, Entreri recognized. There were many potential gains for himself, at least.

He closed his eyes and though carefully about how he would phrase that particular request. It needed to have just the right inflections. His invitation would not be perceived as a weakness or a desire for company. It would be taken as a mutually beneficial partnership. Well, he would work on that question later, Entreri decided. He didn't really want to be thinking about specifics and inflections on a day like today. Instead, he selected a few other queries from his ever-growing list.

"Can you use any sort of weapon?"

Terrin jumped – Entreri felt the slight tension of his muscles.

"I – I – well, yes," he stammered. "At least, a little."

Entreri rolled over onto his stomach. "Good," he said, sitting up to look Terrin right in the eye. "Because you and I are going to spar right now with our weapons of choice. I want to see what kind of a fighter you are, elf."

Terrin stumbled through a disclaimer of some sort.

Entreri ignored him. "I favor the saber and dagger," he told the elf clearly. "Your weapon of choice would be?" He left the question hanging in the air. Terrin gaped at him. Again Entreri repeated the question.

The elf looked down at his toes. "I can shoot a bow fine," he said sulkily. "I use the dirk well enough, too," he added hesitantly.

Entreri nodded approval. "One hand or both?"

"Better with one but capable of both."

"Do you have one with you?"

"No."

"Then we'll just have to get one, won't we, then?" Entreri, if he bothered to admit it to himself – of course, he didn't – was finding himself captivated by this as of yet unmeasured foe and possible companion. If he proved a good enough fighter, Entreri decided, he'd take him along to Calimport. There were plenty of jobs requiring more than one worker to get done cleanly.

"Meet me outside in an hour," Entreri instructed. "By the entrance to the inn. I'm going to find you a dirk," he told the surprised elf, "and then take a measure of your fighting abilities. If you refuse to go through with this," he began a bit ominously, but then Terrin cut him off with a shake of his head, resigned as it was.

"Good. See you in an hour."