Chapter Text
The pair did, in fact, want breakfast once Millie returned, and then they disappeared to a room upstairs, taking the bottle of moonshine with them.
They didn't surface again until nearly dinnertime. The only reason Millie was still there at all was because Gilani had never shown up, and now Millie was stuck covering their evening shift. She hated evening shifts. Marjoret heard as much, calmly chopping carrots while Millie ranted and paced all over the kitchen. If Nylock showed his face tonight— If he so much as breathed in the direction of the inn— Yes, she was aware she could lose her job but if that ratass son of a—
Millie was furiously cleaning the drink making equipment when the drow came down the stairs, limping a little as he did so. He'd changed his shirt. The drow settled down on the barstool with a sigh.
"What can I help you with?"
The drow flashed her a grateful smile. "Food? If there's any?"
"We've got a lamb stew on the fire, along with bread and potatoes," Millie said.
"That sounds perfect," the drow replied.
"I'll let the kitchen know. Anything to drink?"
"Whatever Artemis got this morning," he said. "The stuff that wasn't strong enough to disinfect wounds, I mean."
They'd used the moonshine for— Honestly? Not Millie's business. "One cider, then."
"Thank you."
Millie kept a subtle eye on the adventurer as she let Marjoret know and then grabbed the bottle. He seemed steadier than he had earlier, sitting upright and looking around the common room with an alert eye.
Millie set the cider in front of him. "Here you are."
"Thank you," the drow said. "And, ah…" He trailed off, running a sheepish hand through his hair. "I'd like to apologize about this morning."
Millie froze. "Uh… It was fine— I mean, there was no— It's totally— Are you alright?"
The drow laughed. "I'm alright— or, I will be. Thank you for asking. And thank you for letting us, ah, crash at your bar. But I'd actually like to apologize for my behavior. I know I wasn't exactly… circumspect, I guess. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for anything I might have said, and—"
"You're mouthy when you're in pain," Millie blurted.
The drow froze. "Um. What?"
Millie paled. "Oh my gods, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that— it's just it's what your partner said to me when he brought you in, and—"
The drow tossed his head back and laughed. "Artemis said that to you?" he managed.
Millie nodded, mortified.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I truly am sorry for… all of that. I promise we usually have more manners in front of other people. Or, at least, I do. I really can't speak for Artemis." He held out a hand. "I'm Drizzt."
"Millie," she replied, shaking it. She glanced around, checking that none of the other guests required her attention. "If it's not weird to ask… What happened? With your arm, and stuff? Your partner said you got shot?"
The drow gave a small laugh. "It's a little bit of an embarrassing story, honestly. We were tracking some thieves— I'm a ranger by trade, and Artemis likes to fight people, so— anyway, they stumbled onto us by complete accident, and we hadn't realized they had a wizard. Or backup. I got hit by an arrow as I was jumping out of a tree, and it threw me off balance, and that became…" Drizzt gestured vaguely to his shoulder. "That was… I guess just last night. Artemis wouldn't let me fight with a dislocated shoulder, but he also wouldn't relocate it for me in the middle of the woods— honestly, I don't know why he wouldn't, it would've been fine," the drow added, rolling his eyes, "but we ended up laying low for the night until we could get— here." Drizzt gestured around the common room as he finished.
Millie shook her head. "That's…"
The ranger shrugged. "Could have been worse."
Crazy. These two were crazy.
Before Millie could ask anymore embarrassing questions, she was pulled away by another customer. Then the dinner rush proper began.
With the crowds, there was no hope of talking any more with the friendly drow. Probably for the best; if Millie didn't interact with him, she wouldn't end up asking anymore stupid questions. At some point, the other man, Artemis, joined his partner. By "at some point," Millie meant she glanced away for a moment and when she next looked back the intimidating man was sitting next to Drizzt, stealing bites of food off of the ranger's plate like he'd been there the entire time.
The dinner rush never truly ended at the inn; it just morphed into the evening's drinking. Marton and his friends broke out the fiddles after the second round, and slowly but surely turned the bar from the Sleeping Badger Inn into what Millie liked to call the "Awake at Ungodly Hours" Badger Inn. The volume increased exponentially as the level in the liquor bottles decreased. People forgot personal space was a thing as they leaned on each other or simply fell on the ground. Dancing feet thumped across the floorboards. What during the day would have been terrible ideas now became brilliant things to do with the furniture.
"For the last time, Lura Parlsdaughter, get down off that table, or so help me I will—"
Truly, Millie hated the evening shift.
Millie poured a draft and slid it down the counter before grabbing a series of bottles from below the bar. The door banged open. Millie didn't look up. "Be with you in a moment!" She snagged a rag, swiped away a suspicious stain, took a breath, and turned towards the newcomers. "What can I get for— Nylock."
The burly woodcutter grinned. "Millie. I didn't realize you were working tonight."
"Wasn't supposed to be," Millie replied. "Gilani didn't show. What do you want?"
"What, can't a guy just show up at a bar?" Partlen bumped Nylock with his shoulder, and the group laughed. They'd brought their friends, then — Millie recognized three of the four, from around town. Most of them were woodcutters, except for Jonat, who Millie thought had a farm somewhere, and all of them were at least a full head taller than her.
Millie raised her chin and kept her face as neutral as a dull anvil. "What do you want. To drink."
"Got any of Garreck's 'shine?" Nylock asked.
"No, we're out. What else?"
"Don't lie to me, Millie," Nylock scoffed.
"I'm not lying." And thank the gods she wasn't. The only thing worse than Nylock drunk was Nylock drunk on Garreck's moonshine. "Couple of folks finished the last of it this morning."
"Gond's balls, who was drinking Garreck's moonshine this morning?" Jonat muttered.
Millie folded her arms. "Are you ordering or not?"
"Hells, woman, don't rush me," Nylock retorted. "Six pints of whatever's on tap, then. Gods."
Millie moved to fill the tankards, setting them on the counter as quick as possible. The men were still standing, which meant the sooner she got them their drinks, the more likely it was they'd find a seat somewhere else. As long as it wasn't the bar. Sune, Mielikki, Selune, as long as it wasn't the bar.
"Come on," Nylock groused from behind her, "hurry up." The barstool scraped across the floor as he sat down.
Millie closed her eyes as the other men sat down with him, chatting as they pulled out stools and settled in. Torm, give her strength. Her eyes flicked to the panic bell, but the only people in the back were Pylas and Jella, neither of whom had enough spine, physical or mental, to truly help. And Millie couldn't afford to get into anything with Nylock again.
She steeled herself, and set the last of the mugs down in front of them. "Here you are."
"Finally!" Nylock grumbled. His friends laughed.
Millie noticed the drow and the man — Drizzt and Artemis — watching from the other end of the bar. Drizzt's eyes flicked between her to Nylock, nose-deep in his tankard. Millie turned away towards the next customer before she could read his expression.
Millie managed as best she could— and her best was pretty fucking fantastic if she did say so herself. She served customers efficiently. She smiled at the old farmers who came to drink and talk about the weather. She even made sure no one started swinging from the rafters. And she did it all while maintaining civility in the face of Nylock and his pack of fucking jackals.
"Hey, Millie. Hey!" Nylock leaned across the bar, shaking his tankard. "Another round!"
Millie ground her teeth as she pulled beer from a tap. "Give me a second, and I'll be right with you."
"You gonna hurry up? Not getting any younger over here!"
Millie let out a long breath through her nose. "I'm helping another customer right now, so you're just going to have to learn a little patience and wait, okay?" She only barely stopped herself from storming away towards the other end of the bar. Calm. Calm. She was the epitome of poise and restraint. She set the drinks in front of the two adventurers. "Here you are."
"Is everything alright?" Drizzt asked. His voice was level and calm, almost casual— Millie was jealous— but when she glanced back at him, there was something hard and serious in his expression. Like light glancing off the matte face of a shield.
"What? Oh, yes. Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."
"Okay," the drow replied, sounding like he didn't believe her but taking her at her word. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
The other man— Artemis— just watched her from where he leaned against Drizzt, eyes unreadable. A scar curled along his neck, just above the collar of his dark tunic. He jerked his head towards Nylock. "That guy's not giving you trouble?"
Millie bit her lip. "I can't lose this job."
"Where the hell are those drinks?" Nylock called from his seat at the bar. "Gond's tits."
Millie looked towards the five men. "Give me literally half a minute and—"
"Alright, alright, don't get your apron in a twist." Nylock rolled his eyes. Partlen snorted along with him. "Just hurry up."
Millie dug her fingernails into her palms as she turned towards the tap. You need this job, you need this job, you need this job—
Nylock leaned back on his stool, towards his friends. "Gods, what a bitch."
Millie stiffened and whirled, ready to give Nylock a piece of her fucking mind—
"Fuck— Nine Hells! Who the fuck—"
"Oops," Drizzt said. In his hand was a mug formerly filled with cider, whose contents had rather quickly found a place in Nylock's lap. He smiled, saccharine. Millie had been mistaken earlier; the steel in the drow's eyes wasn't a shield— it was a drawn blade. "My apologies, sir. I'm sorry, it's just, I've never had these surface liquors before, and they seem to make me oh so clumsy, so—"
"You bastard," Nylock snarled, rising from his chair. "You did that on fucking purpose, you damn spiderfucker—"
"I'm sorry," a low voice interrupted. Millie blinked, and suddenly Artemis stood at the drow's shoulder. Nylock had to have a full head on either of them, and yet, neither seemed afraid. In fact, both of them seemed almost relaxed. "I don't think I quite heard what you just said."
"I just said, you did that on purpose, you fucking spiderfucker," Nylock snapped, spit flying from his lips. "And I'm going to show your ass what happens when you mess with—"
Drizzt glanced at Artemis. "You want a hand with this, babe?"
Artemis shot him an unimpressed look. "Sit down. I'll take care of this."
"Are you sure? Because I can—"
"You just dislocated your shoulder. Sit down."
"Sitting." Drizzt took a seat on an open barstool. He looked over at Millie as he rolled his eyes, mirth playing at his lips as though he were sharing a joke. "You exacerbate an injury one time."
"Are you even listening to me?" Nylock shouted.
Artemis glanced back at him, emotionless. "No."
Nylock swung.
Half of Millie watched the ensuing fight with the horror of someone watching a burning building, sure she should do something to help but unable to move.
The other half chanted "fight fight fight" with dark satisfaction.
Nylock stood no chance. One moment he was swinging at the shorter man and the next he was reeling backwards, clutching his face. "Holy shit!" he swore. Blood dripped between his fingers. "You broke my— He broke my fucking nose!"
His friends stared for a moment. Then, Partlen yelled. "He attacked Nylock! Get him!"
Six against one shouldn't have been an even fight. It wasn't.
Partlen moved first, swinging at the shorter man's head. Artemis ducked and twisted, up and under the man's arm to slam a fist into his stomach, and then, as Partlen doubled, another into the man's jaw. Partlen toppled backwards. His head slammed into the floorboards with a nasty crack.
"So," Drizzt said, sitting at the bar. "What sort of things do you do outside of working here?"
Millie would have gaped at him, except her attention had already been captured by the fight.
Artemis was already moving, spinning to face the two woodcutters approaching from behind. One reached to take hold of his arm. Artemis grabbed the man's wrist, stepped forward, crushed his boot into the joint of the man's ankle, and pulled. The man yelled and stumbled, crashing into the other woodcutter as he fell. Just for good measure, Artemis kicked the second man's face as they toppled to the ground.
Only the third woodcutter and Jonat remained, both watching the adventurer warily. Jonat sidled forward, angled sideways, hands raised in boxing positions. Artemis met him as he lunged forward, blocking two blows and then slithering around like a venomous snake to bash the man's ears and pull him into a headlock. Jonat struggled, trying to land a blow on the man grappling him, but to little success.
But the move had put Artemis' back to the last woodcutter, and Millie watched in horror as he reached back towards something at his belt. He pulled it out quickly, and it glinted in the tavern light as he lunged—
Drizzt took a sip of his cider. "Knife, Artemis."
Artemis dropped Jonat and twisted. The knife stabbed past him, and he slammed an elbow down onto the woodcutter's wrist. The man howled, and the knife dropped from his fingers— into Artemis' waiting hand. But he barely held onto it for a second before whipping it around, not looking as he threw the blade across the bar. It sunk into the wood a hair's breadth away from the second woodcutter's ear, who'd begun to rise.
He thought better of it.
Artemis pulled the man in, then tossed the man's arm out to the side. The woodcutter seemed so off-kilter from the failure of his attempted stab that he could barely muster a defense as Artemis caught his shoulder and slammed a fist one, two, three times into the man's solar plexus, before letting go. The woodcutter stumbled away and collapsed to the floor.
The entire bar stared in shocked silence. A musician's accordion let out a shocked wheeze. One of the men wretched in the corner.
Artemis stepped away from the— Millie didn't know how else to describe it except as carnage— not even breathing hard. Nylock's crew lay scattered about the bar, clutching stomachs, noses, and arms, and it'd taken less than two minutes. He reached down, righted one of the toppled stools, and took his seat next to his partner.
Artemis met Millie's gaze. He nodded once. Millie nodded back.
Drizzt beamed at him.
Nylock stumbled to his feet, gasping. "You— You planned this," he spat, pointing a shaky finger at Millie. "You're in league with these— criminals!"
"What?" Millie let out a shocked laugh. "You think I paid them to do this? Nylock, I didn't even know I was going to be here tonight. How the hell was I supposed to know you were?"
"You're lying," Nylock said. His eyes darted around with the paranoia of alcohol. He'd never been good at cutting himself off. "You have to be. You're in on it, you've been out to get me since I broke up with you—"
"I broke up with you! And you're the one who started—" Millie stopped, then drew herself up as a thought occurred to her. "The Sleeping Badger Inn has a strict policy about brawling. And seeing as you all are the ones who started the fight, I think I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"But— I didn't— This fucker deserved it, he spilled a drink on me—"
"And everyone here saw you throw the first punch." Millie savored watching Nylock struggle for words. She shrugged a shoulder. "Door's right over there."
Nylock reddened, rage flaring. He strode toward the bar. "No. No, I'm not going to let some fuckass bar wench who thinks she's better than everyone throw me out—" He pushed between the two adventurers to point a threatening finger in Millie's face—
Millie wasn't even really sure what happened, next. Artemis— moved. Nylock's hand landed on his shoulder— the adventurer grabbed his wrist, twisted, straightened— kicked?— Nylock spun, went sprawling— hit the floorboards with a thud— and then there was a crack, and Nylock screamed, clutching his arm.
"Oh my gods, oh my gods—"
"She said," Artemis said, "that you're not welcome here."
Nylock fled.
The door slammed as Nylock and his friends staggered out of the inn. There was a beat, and then Marton played a quick jog of notes on his fiddle, and the musicians struck up again. Chatter came back to the room. Millie moved out from behind the bar to start picking up the remnants of the brawl, feeling on top of the world. Mystra's Weave, she was going to be riding this feeling for the next tenday.
"I hope that was alright," Drizzt said, kneeling next to her to pick up the pieces of a broken bottle. "He seemed…"
"Like an asshole?" Millie replied. "That's because that's what he is. I mean, if it hadn't been my job on the line, I would've punched him myself. Again. No, that was— To be completely honest? Watching that made my month." She glanced over at Artemis, relief and vindication making her bold. "Hey, you ever consider going into the revenge business? Like, folks paying you to beat up the people they hate? Because I'd recommend you to all my friends."
Drizzt snorted. Artemis shrugged with one shoulder. "Done that before."
"Not anymore?" Millie asked. "I mean, you did a great job. You didn't like it?"
"It was fine."
"Just fine?"
Drizzt scoffed. "Don't let him lie to you. He stopped because he met me and decided to go into the private sector."
"Revenge has a private sector?"
Drizzt's eyes glittered. "It does: it's called personal motivation. And then he spent the next decades unemployed and trying to kill me until I finally won him over."
"He tried to kill you?!"
Artemis rolled his eyes. "That is not how that happened. I was not unemployed. I was working for Jarlaxle."
"Sure." Drizzt made eye contact with Millie. "Jarlaxle felt bad for him," he stage-whispered.
Artemis ignored him. "And it wasn't revenge, it was a professional rivalry."
"You were just mad you were so attracted to me," Drizzt grinned.
"I'm sorry," Millie said, "can we go back to the fact that he tried to kill you?"
"Just a little," Drizzt shrugged. "It wasn't unrequited. We got over it."
Millie almost asked another question, then just shook her head and finished wiping up the floor. "Well. If it works for the two of you."
Drizzt laughed, rising to his feet. "I like to think it does—" He broke off as he winced.
"Leg?" Artemis said, as much statement as question.
Drizzt shook his head. "It's fine."
Artemis raised an eyebrow and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Immediately, the drow sagged, resting more of his weight on the adventurer. "Uh huh. That's what I thought. Come on. You're going to bed."
Drizzt rolled his eyes.
"Well, you two have a good night," Millie said. "If you need anything, let me know. And, seriously: thank you."
Drizzt smiled. "Of course. Have a good night, Millie."
Millie watched as the two adventurers walked towards the stairs, bickering quietly as they went. She took a deep breath, allowed herself one more self-satisfied smile, and went to refill some beers.
----
Millie liked the morning shifts at the Sleeping Badger Inn. The quiet, the sun, the peace. Though, she was finding, she didn't mind evening shifts that much either. Not since the incident.
Millie stood with her hands in her pockets as the sun rose over the horizon. She'd already passed over the keys, and she could see Gilani— who'd apologized profusely— sweeping through the windows of the Sleeping Badger.
And down the road, between the trees, two shapes rode away, one on a gleaming white unicorn, and the other on a fiery steed straight out of an apocalypse prediction.
Crazy. They were crazy.
Millie smiled, and headed back into the inn.