This is set at about the time of 'the kings of clomnel'. Will and Gilan are trying to get on Halt's nerve. Just saying, I'm not trying to make Gilan or Will seem more wittier than the other in the story, I like them both...
The satisfying twangs of arrows hitting wood resonated through the Gathering Grounds. A couple of rangers and their deadly longbows stood across a plain. Wooden targets painted white, black, blue and yellow lay across the other side of the field. The closest, around 50 yards away, then 75, followed by 100 and the furthest away 150 yards. Arrow after arrow buried its head into the yellow at the centre of the target.
Will and Gilan practiced together across from the target at 75 yards aways. Will was enjoying this gathering as much as Gilan was. Their matching smiles grew as their quivers emptied.
Halt sat in a tree unnoticed watching his two old apprentices. They had not seen him yet and did not know of Halt's arrival. He was quite content to relax in a tree for an afternoon.
"Gil? I wonder if you can make a cross shot into the yellow on that target?" Will asked pointing at the target furthest away.
"Is that a challenge?" Gilan grinned. He drew, aimed and released in one fluid motion. It arrow flexed around the riser of the bow streamed in the air and struck yellow, barely.
"Hmm." Gilan sounded disappointed, Will observed.
"You almost missed it." Will pointed out rather obviously.
"How observant of you. I seem to be in need of some practice. Norgate has been calm lately, too calm."
"No matter how calm it is, you can't stop practicing." A startling but familiar voice sounded behind them. The two young rangers swerved around facing the old grizzled ranger they knew so well. "A ranger practices until he never gets it wrong, and then he keeps practi…" The words were cut short as Will and Gilan both charged at their mentor wrapping him in an embrace. Halt almost wished he had stayed in the tree.
Pulling himself free from the young rangers' grasp he cleared his throat. "As I was saying…" Though his words were cut short once again by Crowley running towards him.
"Halt, we need you at the tents. There's a slight problem concerning the first year apprentices." Crowley panted.
Halt scowled at the interruption. He turned slowly to Crowley and gave a withering glare.
Crowley seemed not to notice, "They refuse to tell us where they've hidden the coffee pot!"
Halt gave way to a yelp of anger, "What!"
"Is that a question asking Crowley to repeat it or is that just a cry of anger?" Gilan asked innocently.
Halt ignored Gilan, "Well, do something, Crowley, I need my coffee. Throw them in the river or something! I'm busy right now teaching my two very ignorant apprentices the importance of practice!"
Crowley did a very Halt-styled raised eyebrows. He turned and went back the direction he came to some soon-to-be very wet apprentices.
Halt turned back to the two young rangers.
"Halt," Will complained. "We're not ignorant."
This time, Halt raised his eyebrows. "Hmm, what's a Galician bow like and what are its properties?"
The two rangers looked at each other and shrugged.
"Umm, it's a stick." Will offered.
Halt frowned, "I don't ever recall a bow being called a stick." He lied as he ignored the old ranger saying 'an unstrung bow is a stick'.
Gilan joined up with Will, "But Halt, bows are basically sticks, bendy sticks. You make bows, Halt, don't you make them from sticks?"
Halt replied grimly, "What is it with apprentices, always trying to get the better of their masters?" He walked off grimly.
Will grinned, "I can see the idea's catching on."
Well… I know that Halt knows that there's a saying an unstrung bow is a stick but in this case Halt just wants to get the better of his two apprentices. Funny it goes both ways.
As the shadows of trees grew longer and stretched into patches of dusk along the grassy clearing, Halt and Crowley sat around a dancing campfire with mugs of steaming coffee clutched the warm their hands. Halt was busy emptying the contents of a jar marked honey into his cup. He took a long sip with pleasure.
Will and Gilan's laughs penetrated the calm air. Other rangers turned to look in interest. The two friends settled themselves down onto the log, sitting beside Halt.
"My two irritating apprentices always seem to be the ones to disturb the peace somehow." Halt muttered silently to Crowley.
Will and Gilan didn't seem to notice, whispering to each other while giggling like over-excited girl scouts. and Halt's eyebrows narrowed as he caught the words 'stick' and 'bow' mentioned frequently. He made eye contact with Crowley and the ranger core commandant shrugged.
"Is this the nonsense about the bow being a stick?" Halt growled at the two younger men.
"Umm," Came the reply.
Crowley started becoming interested in the conversation. "The bow being a stick? Technically, Halt, bows are sticks." Will and Gilan felt the confidence in their declaration rise as they had the back up of the Core Commandant.
"See, Halt? Even Crowley agrees." Gilan remarked.
"Wait Halt, where's your stick?" Will teased.
There was now a dangerous glint in Halt's eyes. "It's right by Abelard, so don't make me go fetch it and put an arrow through you." He threatened.
Will grinned, "You wouldn't do that Halt, would you?" Halt grimaced and he knew his battle was lost, for now.
A golden glint simmered across the gathering. The air was damp and fresh from the morning dew. The sweet aroma of coffee filled the clearing. Rangers yawned and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. They talked to each other over cups of coffee and breakfast. They had abandoned the simple meals they had on missions and tasks with dried meat and fruit but fried a few large kippers on a spit over the fire.
Gilan and Will ripped one in half and were enjoying the meal beneath a tree. Halt approached his two former apprentices ruefully and sat down. He had his longbow in his left hand.
"See you've got your stick with you, Halt." Gilan said cheerfully.
Without another word, Halt stood up and stalked towards a bunch of tightly huddled apprentices.
"He's not going to throw them in the river, is he? Crowley beat him to that." Will asked.
"Crowley did the right thing." Gilan added. "Or we wouldn't be drinking coffee right now."
They watched as Halt walked to a stout fair-haired apprentice with a fearful look on his face. He reached down towards the boy who shrank away, and picked up the boy's bow, a recurve take down bow the same kind Will had used at Macindaw.
Halt marched back the two youths, "What's this?" He demanded, holding up the bow.
"Umm, a stick?" Gilan said.
With one fluid motion Halt unstrung the bow and began taking it apart until the bow was in three pieces, the riser, the upper limb and the lower limb.
"What's this?" He asked again.
His two former apprentices looked at each other. They knew that Halt may have won this time. Finally Gilan said, "Three sticks?"
Please review and tell me if everything makes sense.