Winter's Eve

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice.

"He never praises me. Ever! Surely I'm not the worst apprentice ranger."

"I'm sure you're not."

"And does he have to be so stern all the time? I get that it's serious work, but it doesn't help to be comepletely devoid of humour."

"Poor you."

He hums to himself and twirls the stem of his wineglass. The fruity wine catches the candlelight, taking on a golden hue to match the tablecloth. His cutlery is laid neatly beside his plate, his napkin folded on his lap. He hums again, absorbed in thought.

…..

Will woke up bright and early. He kicked off his blankets and stripped off his sleeping clothes, dressing in seconds. He touched the doorknob, looked back at his strewn clothes and set about cleaning up the room. The coathangers were dusty with a lack of use. This morning, he threaded his clothes on them and made sure everything was neat and tidy.

He felt motivated. Even Halt was still asleep. Without orders, he beat the rug and swept the floors. Will then fried bacon and eggs for breakfast, one plate for himself and one for Halt. Just as he was plating up, Halt emerged from his room, possibly roused by the fragrant smell and his sixth sense that told him the coffee pot was boiling.

"What's this? You're up early," Halt observed. His brows knotted in a suspicious look, as if to ask 'what do you want?'

"I wanted to get in plenty of time for archery practise," Will said optimistically. He scarfed down his breakfast, one eye on Halt who ate at leisurely pace with just a hint of suspicion still about him. Will licked his plate clean, rinsed it, dried it and put it away in the cupboard. He set about chopping firewood and filling the water barrel and remembered last minute to replace the dying flowers on the windowsill with fresh ones.

Halt left for a meeting with a baron. Will couldn't help a slight irritation that he'd gone without a word of praise for Will's enthusiasm and motivation; had really only been vaguely suspicious. That was alright, he knew he could win Halt's pride with excellent archery while he was away. Will took his recurve to the clearing behind the cabin, where the targets were set up.

He spent hours firing arrow after arrow into the targets. Long shots, close shots, quick shots, slower more deliberate shots. Will's arms began to ache. His fingers were numb with the cold. He kept going. He'd reach the end of a volley and he'd pluck all the arrows from the targets. It was tempting then to take a break, expecially because Halt wasn't around to berate him, but he kept going.

It was past noon when the ranger appeared around the side of the cabin. Will didn't hear him so when Halt cleared his throat, he was startled and his arrow shot wide. He felt the disapproval behind him.

"You startled me," Will explained.

"I could tell," Halt said dryly. "Have you been practising all morning, or did you just start when you knew I'd be back?"

Will gaped. The accusation was so unfair his ears burned. Affronted, he couldn't bring himself to protest and he crossed his arms with a huff. Halt raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.

"Well, come inside," Halt instructed. "That's enough archery."

Curiosity stirred, Will asked, "what are we doing now?" He hoped it was something interesting- tracking or a mission, something that involved a horse ride through the forest, just a drop of excitement.

As if he'd read his mind, Halt had the shadow of a grin as he shook his head slightly. "I thought we'd do some mapping," he said, fully aware that this was Will's least favourite activity. As expected, the apprentice's face fell and he scuffed his boots on the dirt as they trudged back to the cabin.

Halt spread a map of araluen on the kitchen table, weighting the corners with four river stones. A ranger's map was detailed, with dotted lines marking the hard routes through places like Thorntree forest where the trail was nonexistant but where a ranger (in the case of Thorntree, the particular ranger had been Halt himself) had placed subtle markers to guide the way. Unfortunately, however hard he tried, Will simply could not summon any interest in the footnotes or markings on the map.

Halt gestured for the apprentice to sit. He gave him an inkwell and quill, and two sheets of parchment; one that was blank and one that had a list scrawled down it. Will scanned the list- it was an imaginary army, he assumed, detailing how many soldiers on foot, how many on horseback, the wagons they had to take, the supply columns, the heavy and light infantry and so on and so forth. He'd done exercises like this before and he found them to be excruciatingly boring.

"Is this more 'lead the imaginary army to the imaginary battle, but you can't take them through difficult rivers because the imaginary supply columns will get imaginarily stuck?" Will asked. He received a peircing stare.

"Yes," Halt said shortly. "You might find these skills are useful for you in the future." As he talked, he was stirring himself a cup of coffee. He didn't make one for Will, and he probably wouldn't until the mapping was done.

"Of course," Will agreed, suppressing a yawn. That early morning start was taking it's toll on him. "I'll be able to have much more realistic daydreams during the mapping sessions if my daydream characters know where to lead my daydream army."

Halt's glare sharpened. Will squirmed on his chair. "I was only joking," he mumbled.

In hindsight, he should have known better. Halt's impatience was legendary, which was strange considering his patience at lying still for hours on end was also legendary. But when it came to yappy apprentices, Halt had a shorter fuse than anyone.

"Is that what you'll tell the baron when you lead his army to a cliff edge?" Halt berated him. "Oh I'm sorry Baron Arald, I was only joking when I said we should go east." He pulled up a chair at the table, getting comfortable with his steaming mug of coffee.

Will flushed, annoyed. "No," he said. As he continued, his volume grew. "But Halt, I'm not leading the army at the moment. And I don't see that a little joke here and there is so costly. Just because you don't have a sense of humour doesn't mean I can't have one!" He should have left it at 'no' and let the matter drop. His impulsiveness always led him into trouble, and Halt wouldn't ever let him have the last word. He was still miffed that his morning efforts had gone unnoticed and that was what propelled him to lose his temper.

"Whatever you do, your actions have consequences," Halt said in a low voice. "Joking at innappropriate times when you should be working has consequences. As a ranger, those consequences could well be the loss of your life, or the loss of someone elses."

"One joke isn't about to hurt anyone," Will argued. For once, he didn't want to let his mentor have the last word, if only because he felt he'd been treated so unfairly- whether Halt's suspicions had been well-founded he didn't spare a moment to think about. Against his better judgement, he couldn't stop himself from saying the next thing that came to mind. "It's not like all your grimness helped my dad."

He tried to choke it back the second it burst from his lips. It was too late. He'd said it, he hadn't meant it, and it had come across as much harsher than he'd intended. Halt slammed his coffee cup down. A few splashes spilled onto the wood, a cracking whack causing Will to jump. Nervously, the apprentice peeked under his lashes at the dark eyes of a mentor that had gone dangerously quiet and he knew he was in trouble.

….

Their meal arrives. He nods and grins at the waitress. The hot food is welcome; even in the resteraunt the frigid air creeps in through the shutters. He takes up his knife and fork and tucks in, delighting in the spreading warmth to his belly. The idle chatter from surrounding tables provide enough conversation for the time being. They are content to fill their mouths with food. He polishes the plate and sits back, patting his stomach.

"You've cheered up."

He grins and shrugs. "Good food, good company; of course I've cheered up." She chuckles, smooth and delicate.

"I'm glad."

He can't help his reddening features. The waitress takes their plates away and tells them that dessert will be ready soon. They endulge in small talk, until she leans forward and rests her chin on her hand.

"Tell me Will. Do you enjoy being a ranger?"

There's a sparrow trapped in the rafters. It hops about, pecking at the windows. Every now and again, it pauses to study the customers with bright, pebble eyes, assessing if it can scavange any food from them. He watches it as he fiddles with the corner of his napkin.

…..

Halt stood up abruptly. The half full cup of coffee had been abandoned. That alone was enough to set alarm bells ringing in Will's mind.

"As I said," Halt said. His voice was level, quiet, and Will shivered. "Actions have consequences. Come with me."

Will trailed behind him. He clasped his hands and went through different ways to apologise, to fend off the anger he could see in the tense line of Halt's shoulders. Then he realised he hadn't done anything wrong, that it was Halt who didn't praise him and had snapped at him for one measly (and not very good) joke.

He was led past the archery fields to the creek that ran at the edge of the forest. Will knew the creek well. He fetched water from there every morning. And he knew it for other reasons as well, the 'consequence' of certain actions.

"Boots off," Halt said curtly. "Jacket and shirt too."

It was a cold, winter's day. Will stripped off the items he'd been instructed too. His bare feet stung against the snow. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, feeling feeble and sorry for himself.

"A ranger needs discipline," Halt said. "That starts from training, and it starts with doing what your mentor says. So when I'm in no mood for jokes, you don't joke around, and you certainly don't raise your voice against me."

Sullen, Will stared at the ground. His toes were starting to go blue. Knuckles clenched around his collar and deftly tossed him in the creek. Even though he saw it coming, he didn't dare fight back, and there wasn't much he could do to prevent it. He landed with a splash, gasping as the icy water lapped around him. Thankfully, it wasn't deep enough for him to be submerged, but it covered his legs in the awkward sitting position he'd landed in, and it was freezing.

Halt kicked water over him, splattering his face and bare shoulders. Will winced, giant trembles wracking his body. It took a moment to process that Halt had stepped back.

"Got it?" the ranger demanded.

"Yes," Will mumbled. Halt gripped the boy's arm and pulled him out of the river. He made to wrap the dry jacket around him, but Will snatched it and shoved past his mentor, donning his boots in a hasty movement and staggering up to the cabin. He could feel Halt's frown behind him.

Will stormed into his room and changed into dry clothes. He scowled at his neatly tidied room- fat lot of good that had gotten him- and deliberately tossed his wet breeches on the floor. He rumpled the bed covers and gave his wadrobe a kick. That hurt his toe and he swore. But at least the aggression let out some of his anger.

He emerged from his room. Halt was at the kitchen, boiling himself a second cup of coffee. He appeared to be relaxed and calm, as if nothing had happened. For no particular reason, this irked Will.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he muttered under his breath.

Halt glanced over is shoulder. "What was that Will?" he inquired with a lift of his eyebrows. It was a warning. With his keen hearing, there was no way he hadn't made out the words. He was giving Will a chance to take it back and let it go so they could get on with the day. Will recognised this. He was close to backing down, as he always did, but this time he he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he repeated louder. Halt took a step towards him, eyebrows dropping low over his eyes, a deep scowl forming. Will had an imminant vision of being back in the river, so he rushed to the door and flung it open.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" he yelled. "Go to hell, Halt, go to..to.. go back to Hibernia!" He just registered Halt's rare expression of surprise changing to one of fury before he turned on his heel and raced up to Wensley village.

….

"Will?"

He is jogged back to the present. Those solemn grey eyes watch him. He tips his chair back and purses his lips.

"I suppose it's a bit like climbing a hill," he explains. "It's gruelling hard work and it can be unpleasant. But once you get to the top, there's nowhere else with a better view."

The waitress brings out rhubarb pie with a generous helping of custard. She has coffee for them too and he sighs in contentment. He takes a sip, blowing on the steaming liquid.

"I did choose it over battleschool, after all," he adds. "I want to be a ranger. I just need a break every now and again."

"How are you going to face Halt after storming out on him like that?" she inquires. "Will he be very angry?"

"Spitting furious," he chuckles. "It's too late to do anything about that."

They talk some more about little things: what the best day of the week is, what Jenny and George and Horace are up to; which morphes into wistful chatter about their days back in the ward. For both of them, it feels a long time ago, though neither of them wishes to go back. As the sun begins to set, she picks up her coat and kisses his cheek.

He leans back in his chair. He's surprised at how fast the time has gone.

"I suppose I have to go back and face Halt," he says.

"Good luck," she says and kisses him again, this time on his lips. It's a chaste kiss, and he's taken by surprise so he fails to have any real response. He remembers the first time he felt her lips and notices that they're just as soft now.

Their parting is too soon. More so because he knows it will be months before they get the chance to have another evening together. He sits and watches her leave before padding out the door and through the snow himself. He wonders if Tug will be reproachful that they didn't go for a ride today. He thinks he can blame Halt for making him do the mapping, but he knows he shouldn't have lost his temper so he squares his shoulders and prepares to accept the consequences from both his mentor and his horse.

A wind stirs up as he walks. He tightens his cloak around himself. He's not sure if he's relieved or apprehensive when he sees the smoke curling from the chimney of the cabin, the warm glow through the windows. He peeks in the stables. Tug gives him an accusing look and he rubs the soft muzzle apologetically, noting that Halt has fed and watered Tug for him. Now he feels bad for some of what he said and for almost ten minutes, he hesitates at the door, unsure of what welcome he will receive. With a jolt of fear, it crosses his mind that what if- what if Halt punishes him by ending his training and sending him off to be a farmer?

He hears Halt's voice from inside the cabin, saying, "it's a cold winter's eve, Will, you'll get frostbite if you stand on the porch forever." Startled, the apprentice pushes open the door and stands on the threshold. Halt is seated at the table reading through a report with, not surprisingly, a cup of coffee. His eyes are ominously dark, but the fire in the hearth is cheerful, and the cabin looks as welcoming and cosy as ever.

"Shut the door," Halt says without looking up. He sounds gruff, but that's normal. The door clicks behind Will and he hovers just by it. He bows his head and says he's sorry in a rasping voice. He doesn't look up, so he doesn't see if Halt nods.

"You can stoke the fire," Halt orders. Will does so and pauses to hold his numb fingers in front of the flames. Halt goes back to reading the report. Feeling terribly nervous and guilty, Will perches on one of the chairs.

"You're lucky it's freezing out there," Halt says, still gruff. "Else you'd be sleeping up a tree tonight." He pauses and Will can feel those dark eyes studying him.

"There's coffee in the pot," Halt continues at last. "Help yourself."