A/N:

Disclaimer — I do not claim the kind of official, contract-related association with John Flanagan, his publisher, the Ranger's Apprentice series, or any affiliated with the previous that requires this to disclaim. As evidenced by the lack of contact info, weird links, etc., I am also not looking for monetary gain of any kind directly received from these writings.

The idea for these drabbles were inspired by my friend, who read the Ranger's Apprentice series on my recommendation and now enjoys scribbling little doodles of Halt x Coffee on the margins of paper. cx She even drew the cover art. Thanks, Maggie!

an introduction.

. . .

"It is time..." Pritchard announced as he entered the room, the back of his mottled cloak to Halt. The sound of clinking and the slight awkwardness in which his mentor held himself alerted the young man that he was carrying something of potters' make, or perhaps glasswork, in a cumbersome angle. The Rangers' training was paying off. "... for the final stage of your initiation."

Halt arched a brow curiously, lowering the hood of his own green cloak. "Final stage?"

"Indeed," the aging ex-Ranger answered, turning around. His hood was also down, revealing a slight smile. In his arms were a plain metal tray holding two earthenware mugs and a similar pot with the lid apparently closed tight — there was no steam or smell emanating from the container that Halt could detect so far. There was also a container of presumably sugar or cream.

"And what exactly does this entail?" he asked suspiciously. Did he have to detect the kind of poison in his drink with sight and smell alone, in a certain time frame?

"Probably not what you're thinking," Pritchard replied, setting the tray down onto the small table at which Halt was sitting.

They were currently staying at a small, nondescript inn in a port town close to Dun Kilty, the capital of Clonmel in Hibernia. The two had met by chance on a lonely road leading to and from the city, one having abandoned his family, the other forcibly banished from his own country. They had almost instantly taken a liking to each other, and before long, Pritchard had offered to teach Halt the ways of the Araluen Rangers. Intrigued, he had accepted.

That had been a few months ago. For most of that time, they camped among the trees, the ex-Ranger determined to simulate the traditional cabin. It was only about a week ago that they entered this inn for the first time, as a reward for Halt's diligent practice.

"You will be introduced to the Rangers' official — but unofficial —" Pritchard always had a bit of dramatic flair, and it showed as he removed the lid to the pot — "drink. I doubt Hibernian royalty taste this very often, what with all of their wines and whiskeys."

Halt blinked. First of all, he wasn't aware of having ever told his mentor his true identity. And second, was that the smell of...?

"Coffee," Pritchard breathed, a satisfied look on his face as he inhaled the scent of its freshly brewed goodness. Steam wafted out of the pot, the dark brown liquid visible inside. "One of the most delicious drinks ever created by mankind. Especially since this coffee is not ordinary coffee. Oh no."

Arching a brow, Halt played along. "Really?" he said with no small amount of dryness. "Tell me more, Pritchard."

Admittedly, he was right — during all of his time living in Dun Kilty, Halt had only sampled coffee once or twice, and it had hardly been anything like Pritchard just described, the man's voice as reverent as if he was talking about a god. He honestly preferred other drinks much more, which guiltily included Ouisgeah.

"I had to have this specially ordered," Pritchard continued, gazing down into the pot. "Cost me no small amount, and it still took over a week to get here. But for that one small bag, it was all worth it." He smiled at Halt like he actually knew what the man was talking about. "Kafay. The best of the best. The Arridi still refuse to tell us their process, and rightly so. Much of their profit comes from this heavenly liquid."

Halt grunted in acknowledgement.

Pritchard, sensing that his trainee was tired of the coffee talk, went ahead and poured the coffee into the two mugs. As Halt watched, he took the little container and popped it open, tipping it into one of the mugs. A thick golden fluid streamed out.

"Honey?" the Hibernian asked.

"Works like a charm. Do you want some in yours?"

Halt shrugged, not particularly caring. Pritchard shrugged back after a moment and promptly poured some honey into Halt's mug too. He stirred up the coffee for a few seconds each and then offered one to his apprentice. He took it a bit reluctantly.

"Here is to my apprentice's rapidly growing skill," the ex-Ranger said with a smile, tapping his mug against Halt's before taking a long draft from it.

Halt looked down at his coffee a bit skeptically. But he didn't want to disappoint his mentor, so he brought the mug up to his lips and took a polite sip.

What came next surprised him greatly.

A/N:

This should be the only chapter that sounds this serious. You have been warned.