As mentioned in the summary, this is a response to the Gilan Challenge on BeastBoy'sGirlfriend's profile. Write a one-shot about Gilan's apprenticeship to Halt, and I believe I incorporated all the required words and phrases.

All in all, Gilan is awesomely fun to write :).

Enjoy!

Glian hacked savagely with his sword at the stuffed dummy in front of him, thinking that maybe the instructors should stop putting soft material in its sewn arms when the deadly sharp swords would just slice through them anyway. Seemed like a waste of time for any ladies to him.

But then again, the nobles in court didn't have anything better to do. They had servants to take care of any chores, and all they did was gossip amongst themselves in the ladies case, and try to impress their friends' wives in the men's case. True, he himself was an important member in the castle, with his father as battlemaster. But that didn't mean Gilan wasn't starting to get sick of the stifling protocol and endless sword practice.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gilan winced as he realized his cuts had gotten extremely sloppy while he was all but drowning in self-pity.

"Um..."

"You're imagining cutting through human flesh and bone, Gilan Davidson, not lethargically poking a dummy," his teacher, the renowned swordsmaster MacNeil, was a slightly daunting figure. Any other time Gilan would have silently taken the criticism.

"I didn't realize killing would be so gruesome," Gilan muttered sarcastically. This lecture was not helping his mood.

"And you're here because...?" The question wasn't meant to be answered, but Gilan couldn't help himself.

"Because I felt like skipping one afternoon and you thought I would learn my lesson by making me practice twice as much for the rest of the week!" Gilan snapped irritably. The narrowing of MacNeil's eyes should have been warning enough, but Gilan didn't want to be berated right now. He dropped his sword and hiked back to the castle, barely noticing that his mentor didn't call him back.

Gilan entered through the front doors of Caraway Castle, intending to stay in his room until he was forced out. Just because he had to be skilled with a sword didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

A somewhat familiar voice changed that plan. "Hello." Gilan jumped, whirling in a circle to search the shadows for the invisible person. The owner of the voice stepped out into the light, and Gilan recognized a Ranger friend of his father's, Halt.

"Hi," Gil responded, staring in awe at how Halt had seemingly appeared out of air. Gilan and Halt had talked numerous times over the years, but it was mostly Gilan chattering away with questions. Which was why he wasn't completely surprised when Halt nodded and continued on, presumably to meet Sir David. Why the Ranger had even bothered to greet Gilan, the boy wasn't thinking about.

A hare-brained idea wormed itself into Gilan's mind as he struggled to make out Halt's retreating form amongst the shadows. Gilan had known Halt for a long time: his father and the Ranger were good friends. So, Sir David wouldn't be too upset if Gilan were to spend some time with Halt, right? As for if the Ranger would mind, Gilan wasn't worried about just then. He still hurried in the direction of his room, but instead of brooding he immediately began packing for what he hoped would be a new turn in his life.

Night fell, and Gilan had apologized to MacNeil and his father earlier, hoping he wouldn't need to do it again if his plan worked. He had just tossed his pack over the window in his room, when he heard the door creak.

"What are you doing?" Gilan cursed silently. It was his seven-year-old sister, Marilyn. "You're supposed to still be sleeping. It's not time for training yet. What's in the bag? Are you running away?" The last question was asked in an accusing tone.

Gilan sighed and turned to face his sister, who had lighten a candle even though the sun was about to come up. "I'm going to follow Ranger Halt and see if he'll let me be his apprentice." He expected more questions from the young girl but she just looked at him, then put the candle down.

"Bye, Gil," Marilyn hugged him tightly for a moment, then released him and stepped back.

"See you whenever then," Gilan said with a half-smile, grateful she wasn't stopping him. He started out of the window, following his pack to the ground. He popped his head up over the window sill briefly, adding, "You know, if he doesn't kill me."

Marilyn's eyes widened for a moment, then she realized he was just kidding. "Twit," she teasingly called a parting sally. Despite himself, Gilan grinned, resting on a ledge and careful not to fall. His sister was always learning new and amusing "insults." If Halt let him stay, he would miss her.

Gilan found Halt around noon the next day, and the boy was just about ready to collapse from exhaustion. He'd tried his best throughout the journey to melt into the shadows as Halt had done, and had eyed with envy the cloak the other man wore. It seemed to help greatly in masking oneself.

Gilan had more trouble with staying quiet; he was sure every crackling leaf and snapping twig was against him. Still, Halt didn't turn around.

The Ranger took out a spoon and bowl, presumably for his lunch. Gilan wasn't quite sure why he did it. Maybe he just wanted to see to what extent Halt wouldn't notice he had been followed. Which was why Gilan crept closer and closer to the still figure until he was almost close enough to touch him. One more step, and a blur of color shot at the sneaking boy.

Gilan suddenly found himself submersed in water for a few seconds before being hauled out and held some centimeters off the ground, his own dagger to his neck.

"Hey, Halt," Gilan managed a cocky grin. The dagger pressed tightly against his skin, and Gilan expected a twinge of pain to hit any second.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gilan almost laughed, recalling the same question being asked of him just yesterday by MacNeil. Of course, the swordsmaster didn't have a knife to his neck then, so Gilan decided to tell the truth.

"I, uh, wanted to come with you to Redmont." Halt didn't answer, nor remove the sharp weapon. "To be your apprentice," Gilan admitted. Still nothing. "Can you please move the knife? It's invading my comfort zone."

Gilan dropped like a sack of potatoes to the ground, a pretty flower in front of his face. Gilan picked it and stood, thrusting the daisy at Halt. All it took was a flower to make someone have a heart, or so Gilan believed.

"Here, so you don't feel bad about not catching me, even though you're a legendary Ranger."

Halt raised an eyebrow condescendingly, but pocketed the flower. "Sure, I let you follow me half-way to Redmont just to throw you in a stream so you could walk home." When Gilan stayed silent he continued, "Your father and I discussed this happening in some letters."

"You mean I can come?" Gilan asked, grinning hopefully and still dripping.

"That's what I said," Halt responded gruffly.

Gilan tilted his head, eyes glinting slightly. "No, you said you would send me back," he pointed out.

Halt rolled his eyes. "It's called sarcasm, boy," he said exasperatedly. Gilan fought down a grin. Halt would be fun to needle.

The Ranger turned back to his horse and Gilan hurried to follow, taking the outstretched arm. Gilan squirmed slightly, half because of his soaking clothes and half because he actually couldn't wait to start training.

Halt noticed great change in the boy through the time spent as his apprentice. Gilan was a huge joker, never missing an opportunity for a witty comeback at Halt's expense. Without the restraints of knightly duties, Gilan felt more alive and free.

After all, Halt thought with a slight smile to himself. Rangers aren't as strict as knights about following rules. He frowned. Though we do have an unfair amount of reports.

He also grew more mischievous, Halt learned as he trained the boy. Several "accidents" had occurred in the first week alone. The most horrifying one being when the boy burned a whole bag of coffee beans.

"What did you do?" Halt stared numbly at the sight in front of him. Gilan had several pots in front of him, each filled to the brim with coffee beans and each on fire. The smell was vile, and seeing all that wonderful, beautiful coffee going to waste was enough to make Halt's heart ache a little. He looked quite like a Skandian who had just been told he couldn't raid anymore.

"I was trying to make coffee," Gilan said, staring awestruck at the several fires in front of him. Hopefully the cabin wouldn't catch... Halt did it all the time, though, right?

"But that's not how you boil coffee!"

Oops.

"But, Halt," Gilan protested innocently. "I've never made coffee before."

Halt wasn't impressed. There was no way he was going to let his apprentice burn perfectly good coffee and get away with it. "Gilan?"

"Yes, Halt?" The door was still within sprinting distance.

"Get out before I throw you in the fire."

I want to give full credit for that last line to EmoPaperclip-xD, who used it a story of hers. Thanks :).

That was all Gilan the Awesomeness! I actually decided to this at about one in the morning and I had to decipher a crumpled science notecard. Amazing at what ungodly hours your muse will strike...

I might want to do more on Gilan's apprenticeship, cuz this didn't turn out as funny as I planned except near the end. Still, lemme know how I did in a review!

-Dodo