Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan.

Story rated T for drunkeness - so if you don't like reading about drunken antics that may induce amusing OOC-ness, then this isn't the story for you.


Halt hated feasts. They were noisy affairs where people ate too much, drank too much, danced too much and talked too much. While Baron Arald had invited Halt to every feast he hosted, Halt had in fact attended very few. He decided to make an exception tonight for two reasons; the first being to shut Will up. Halt had always found some excuse not to go, and Will had been practically pleading with him for months to attend just one feast. Despite all this effort on Will's part, once they arrived at the feast, the apprentice had abandoned his mentor and disappeared into the crowd to find his former ward-mates – barring Horace who was at Castle Araluen. Halt however saw his apprentice's action as a positive thing due to his second reason for attending the feast: Lady Pauline.

According to Halt, she was the only enjoyable thing about this feast – not that he would mention this to anyone. Throughout the evening, Halt had had the pleasure of her company, engaged in interesting conversation, and finally walking her to her suite of rooms, when she decided to retire for the night. The evening had sped by whilst Halt was with Pauline, but now, time seemed to slow right down, as Halt sat in a corner in the Great Hall, scowling at the world in general.

At the other end of the hall, and still not far away enough for Halt's liking, was a minstrel, playing the last song of his set. It was a popular upbeat tune, which incited the feast-goers in singing along. Even from his position, Halt could hear Will's voice above everyone else's. His eyes searched the room, locating his apprentice, and found that Will was standing next to Rodney the Battle-master, who was also singing with gusto. From where Halt was sitting, it looked (and sounded) like the two were trying to outdo each other. When the song ended, they both gave a cheer, and Rodney gave Will a hearty pat on the back, causing Will to stumble forward a couple of paces.

Halt watched his apprentice bid farewell to the Battle-master, before disappearing back into the crowd. He decided that he was now thoroughly fed up of this feast, and was time for him to return to the cabin. He had an appointment with his warm, comfortable, and most importantly, quiet bed. Just as he was about to leave his corner to find Will, the apprentice in question emerged from the crowd, looking pink cheeked, wild-haired, and more cheerful than usual – if that was entirely possible.

Will stumbled past Halt, before turning around and looking at Halt in mock surprise.

"I nearly didn't see you, Halt!" exclaimed Will. "You should be careful wearing that cloak indoors – someone might walk into you… or sit on you. That would be a nasty surprise for them!"

Halt merely raised an eyebrow as Will giggled at his own joke.

"Time to go home, Will."

"I don't want to go home. I'm having too much fun here," whined Will. "You're so boring and … and old."

"You've got training in the morning. And you're drunk."

"No I'm not."

"You can't even stand up straight."

It was true. Even as Will was talking to Halt, he was listing to one side. Right on cue, Will stumbled a few paces, before regaining what little balance he had.

"Did you feel that? The floor moved," said Will, staring at the floor in amazement.

"No it didn't," said Halt.

"I swear… well if it didn't, I'm going to find some fun people."

"We have to go home, Will," said Halt. "The minstrel has heard that you play the mandola, and he wants you to go fetch it and play it for him tonight."

Will fell for this lie hook, line and sinker. He even didn't notice that Halt had called his beloved instrument by the correct name for once.

"Really, Halt? He said that?"

"Yes. He's quite eager to hear you play."

"We must go at once - can't keep him waiting!" said Will, charging towards the exit, albeit not in a straight line.

Halt followed, only pausing to collect his and Will's bows from under one of the tables, where they had stored them earlier for safe-keeping. Will, in his state had forgotten one of the Ranger's most important tools. The apprentice led the way through the castle, and once he reached the castle's yard, he went straight towards the stables, before Halt pulled him away in the direction of the main gate.

"We need to get the horses!" protested Will.

"No we don't. They'll be bedded down at this time of night, and I don't want to get on the wrong side of the Stable-master if we go in and disturb all of the horses. They'll be fine for one night." While that was true, the main reason Halt left the horses was because Will could hardly walk straight, let alone ride a horse. He was more likely to be spending more time falling off Tug than actually riding him.

"You're right. The stable-master does scare me," replied Will solemnly as the pair was let out of the side gate by one of the night guards.

The Rangers followed the road down to the bridge. Halt led the way, with Will following behind, talking a load of inane nonsense about conversations he has throughout the evening. Halt found that a lot of Will's monologue gravitated towards things that Alyss had done, or said, during the course of the evening. Halt wished that Will would admit his feelings for the girl, and vice versa. It seemed like the lad was totally oblivious.

As they crossed the bridge, Halt noticed that Will had gotten progressively louder, and more flamboyant in his gestures. Throughout his experiences in many taverns, Halt had discovered that there were many types of drunk: soppy drunks, angry drunks, touchy-feely drunks, drunks who thought they knew everything – the list was endless. Halt concluded that Will was a happy drunk – which was an improvement on Gilan, who was a weepy type of drunk.

When the Rangers reached the edge of Wensley village, Halt turned back to Will.

"Will, you need to be quiet now."

"Why?" whined Will, a few decibels louder than necessary.

"We need to go through the village, and people are asleep. They most certainly don't want to be woken up by you."

"Is it alright to whisper?"

"Only if you're quiet."

Will looked extremely happy with this response, launching once again into his monologue. The volume of his voice had indeed reduced, but it wasn't a whisper; it was the exaggerated type of whisper that ends up being the same volume as the speaker's normal tone. Halt noticed that the topic of Will's one sided conversation had now moved on to tales of his childhood spent on the Ward. He was unsure of when, and how, Will had gotten onto that topic, but nonetheless, Will had managed to change the topic whilst stumbling along, seemingly unaware that Halt wasn't listening at all.

"… and then I leapt out of the bushes, covered in –"

Will was cut off as he stumbled into a bucket that someone had left outside of their house. The bucket fell over with a dull thud.

"Shhh!" Will told the bucket, as he picked it back up, and put it a few feet away from its original place. "You've got to be quiet – people are asleep."

He then gave the bucket the "stay" signal that he would normally give to Tug, and then carried on with his monologue.

Halt scowled; not for the first time he wondered why he thought taking on another apprentice was a good idea. He should have learnt from his mistake of taking on Gilan all those years ago.

Not soon enough, they reached the edge of the village, and turned off the main road, onto the track that would take them to the cabin. When they reached the tree line of the forest, Will burst into song. Halt groaned inwardly – it was the same song where Will had tried to out-sing Rodney earlier at the feast.

"Oh, the drunken king of Angledart, could blow out candles with a –" Will whispered the next word, as if he was a naughty child saying a rude word "- fart!" He gave a little giggle before continuing with gusto, "But the world would never know of the courage in his heart, till he slayed the staggering dragon!"

Will caught up with Halt, and flung his arm around his mentor's shoulders. Halt slipped out of Will's embrace, giving the apprentice a glare for good measure.

"Come on, Halt! Join in."

"No thank you. I have a better idea – how about a game?"

"Oh, I like games. My favourite game to play with Gil is 'Who can annoy Halt the most.'"

Halt scowled. "No, I was thinking of the Quiet Game."

Halt could practically see Will's brain working overtime as he tried to recall ever playing such a game. "Never heard of it. How do you play?"

"The person, who stays the quietest the longest, wins."

"That's boring."

"It's very important for your final assessment," lied Halt. "You'll be tested using this game, and if you fail, you can't get your silver oakleaf."

"Really?"

Yes, really – and the game starts now."

"Now?"

"Yes! Now!"

It was a success. To Halt's relief, Will instantly shut up, and he continued to stay quiet for a few more minutes… until a twig snapped loudly off into the trees.

With Ranger instincts overriding his drunken state, Will's right hand went to his shoulder to grab an arrow; but instead of the familiar touch of fletching, all there was, was thin air. Will spun around in a circle, in an attempt to look at his back, before looking down at his empty hands. A look of horror crossed his face.

"Halt… I think I've lost my bow and quiver…"

Halt raised an eyebrow, and indicated to his own shoulder, where he had slung Will's bow and quiver for safekeeping.

"What are you doing with those?" enquired Will. "I need them to shoot that nefarious person who's following us."

"No one is following us – it was just a fox. And even if there were a nefarious person, as you so poetically put it, following us, they would have been scared off by your singing long ago."

"That's really hurtful… but are you sure that it's just a fox?"

"Will, as much as it pains me to say this, I've been a Ranger longer than you've been alive. I think I may know what I'm doing by now."

Will considered this statement for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. Halt set off once again; Will, thankfully followed in silence. After a couple of minutes, Halt glanced back to check on his apprentice, only to witness Will trip over a tree root, and fall flat on his face.

Halt let out a quiet snort of amusement. Will lay still for a few seconds, before pushing himself unsteadily into a sitting position.

"That was unexpected," commented Will.

By the light of the moon, Halt saw that Will had managed to sustain what looked like a cut to his face. Halt walked over to Will, and pulled the unsteady apprentice to his feet, and slung one of Will's arms around his shoulders. It wouldn't be good if Will fell over again – he could get a more serious injury – something Halt had witnessed before with drunks.

"Ahh – I love you too, Halt," said Will with a sloppy grin, moving round to give Halt a full-on hug, which the older Ranger stopped by elbowing Will back into place. He started to walk once again, so Will wouldn't try to attempt this sign of affection again.

"Halt?" said Will, after a small period of blessed silence.

"Yes, Will," replied Halt, glancing at his apprentice, who was staring at the clear night's sky, mouth hanging wide open.

"When Jenny first came onto the Ward, she told me that when people die, they become stars, and they look upon the loved ones they left behind. Do you think that's true?"

Halt gave a non-committal grunt in reply. He not only had to carry his own weapons, but also Will's, and effectively Will himself, as the apprentice put all his weight onto Halt. Needless to say, Halt wasn't in the mood for a deep philosophical discussion.

"I think it's true," Will continued, paying no attention to Halt's reply. "I reckon my father is looking down on me right now." He pointed to the sky. "My father is that really big star right there."

Halt looked to where Will was pointing.

"Will… that's the moon."

"Oh," said Will, sounding disappointed. "I thought it looked a bit big."

"Only a bit?"

"Halt… I really do love you, you know? You are like a father to me."

Halt kept quiet. This type of conversation was awkward territory for Halt. He didn't like talking about his emotions, instead adopting a grim persona to the outside world; although those close to him knew much better. While Halt looked upon Will, as if the lad was his own son, he would never admit this. In some respect, he was relieved that the feeling between them was mutual. However, Halt mused that his initial assessment of Will might have been wrong: he was a soppy drunk instead of a happy one.

"You've done a lot for me. You took me on as an apprentice when no one else wanted me. You rescued me from Skandia. You watched out for me, when I was living on the Ward. Do you know who else I love?"

"Who?" grunted Halt.

"Tug. He's the best horse there is - the best Ranger horse ever!"

I doubt he's better than Abelard, thought Halt, as Will rambled on about how amazing Tug was, leaving Halt to wonder whether he should feel insulted that Will held the same level of affection for a horse, as he did for him. But Halt dismissed this thought since Will was not in his right mind, as shown by the fact he had confused the moon with a star.

To Halt's relief, they turned the corner to the clearing where the cabin was situated.

Halt relinquished his hold on Will, leading the way to the door. Behind him, Will stumbled up the veranda steps, nearly falling over again, had Halt not grabbed him at the last second. It also took longer than necessary for Halt to unlock the door, since Will had decided that Halt made a comfortable leaning post, standing in the way of the moon's light as he did so, making it harder for Halt to locate the keyhole.

Finally, Halt managed to unlock the door, hauling Will inside the cabin after him, and guided the apprentice to a chair at the kitchen table. He then locked the door, leaning their weapons next to it, before turning his attention lighting some candles. Will merely watched as Halt busied himself.

"I feel like I've forgotten something," mused Will, before a look of horror appeared on his face. "Tug! Where is he?"

"In the castle stables, with Abelard, where they are no doubt being spoilt with an endless stream of apples," replied Halt. To his relief, it seemed that Will had forgotten his earlier lie about the mandola.

Once there was sufficient light in the cabin, Halt sat in a chair facing Will, and reached out to tilt Will's head to the light to get a better look at his wound.

"Get off!" exclaimed Will, squirming out of Halt's grip. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at your face – although why anyone in their right mind would want to do that is beyond me."

"You're looking at my face?" said Will slowly. "Why?"

"You fell over."

"Did I?"

"Doesn't your face hurt?"

Will took a few seconds to consider this, before shaking his head. Halt rolled his eyes, before inspecting the wound once again. This time Will didn't resist, instead opting to watch Halt intently. Upon inspection, Halt saw that the wound wasn't a cut, like he had originally thought, but a bad graze that extended over Will's left eyebrow, and down along his cheekbone. He let out a sigh of relief. Will hadn't injured himself bad enough to require stitches; just a cleaning was required. He fetched some clean water and a cloth, while Will had once again decided to tell Halt his entire life story. Halt, once again, did not really listen, and cleaned the wound. Will winced as Halt did this, but still kept in full flow of his story.

When Halt had finished, Will let out a deep yawn, and pushed himself out of the chair.

"I'm going bed," he announced. "Night, Halt."

He stumbled over to his bedroom door. Will ran his hand over the wood of the door, and then repeated the action with increasing urgency.

"Door knob is on the other side," said Halt.

"So it is!" replied Will, who then opened the door successfully, practically falling into the small bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Halt shook his head, and disposed of the dirty water, but not before setting some water to boil for a much deserved coffee. As he was waiting for the water to boil, he noticed that the noises that had previously been coming from Will's room had suddenly stopped. Halt went over to his apprentice's room, and knocked on the door. Hearing no rely, he let himself into the room.

Inside, he found Will sprawled out on the narrow bed; mouth wide open, and snoring softly. The apprentice had managed to remove his cloak, jerkin, belt complete with knives, and his left boot, before falling asleep. He was in such a deep sleep; Halt doubted that even the end of the world would wake him.

Taking some pity on Will, Halt removed the other boot, placing it on the floor at the end of the bed, where they were normally stored. He then rolled Will onto his side. The lad didn't even stir, but thankfully, the action had stopped the snoring. Halt then went to the kitchen, and returned to the bedroom with a bucket, placing it next to Will's bed, in case of any emergencies that occurred during the night.

Halt took one last look at the graze that now decorated his apprentice's face. That was going to hurt in the morning – and have one hell of a hangover to deal with on top of that.

He did not envy Will one little bit.


I hope you found this amusing.

I've had this little chestnut brewing in my mind for a little while now, and it's finally been written down, so much to my relief, I can now redeem valuable brain space that I need for essay writing.

There will be a part two - and as always with me, I have no idea when the update will be. But hopefully it should be soon-ish.