I know now why I received that particular birthday present. My father was afraid. As you know, unrest was growing in the kingdom. But as you may not know, (I am writing to the non-Ranger reader) the Ranger Corps was under attack. The traitor Morgarath who nearly overthrew the kingdom was destroying the Corps from the inside. Already he had banished, imprisoned or executed nearly all of the seasoned members. He had appointed worthless lay-a-bouts and made the Corps a byword and laughing stock. My father was feared for his life and mine. He was without direction from the king. He did the best he could. In years past, he had traveled much because Brougham fief where he was stationed was quiet. The Corps used him whenever they needed extra help in a different fief. He was no longer getting this kind of commands. He use the time gained to teach me more. I was his de facto apprentice.
I knew absolutely nothing of this.
Before you judge that I am oblivious let me explain. I really had no contact with the world outside my cabin. The reason for this was partially that my father never let me play with the village children. In fact, he told them to stay away or face the consequences from him. So, I always played alone. After the pick-pocketing, I was lucky to get even a cold nod from the farmers. When I had to buy something from the village I was as quiet as possible and did not speak unless spoken to. Patch was my only companion. That, in a way, was the problem. I had no source of news other that my father. If he did not tell me something, I did not know. When things changed, the shock was like a bucket of cold water.
It started early on a seemingly normal morning. I heard my father rise early and move around the cabin. I didn't hear the clank of pans so I knew he was not cooking an early breakfast. The only other thing he would do at such an unholy hour of the morning would be pack. That was the strange thing. No letter bearing the oak leaf insignia of the Ranger Corps had arrived. Thus my father had no orders to go anywhere. He would have told me if he was going to ride to a town in the fief. Curiosity goaded my until I got up.
The first thing I noticed was that he had all his clothes, even his spare cloak. One of the outfits was formal, so he wouldn't take it unless he were attending a banquet or working as an ambassador. He was also packing more food than usual, which also signaled a long journey.
"Where I you going?" I said, already resigned and only half interested.
"Norgate," my father replied. Norgate was a fief to the North. It guarded the pass to Picta and kept Araluen safe from raiders in that direction. My Father laced up his boots, belted on his knives, fastened his cloak, slipped his quiver over his shoulder, and gathered the saddlebags up. I had seen it many times. I followed him out to the stable. Patch nickered a greeting. Father was saddling Cavalier, his horse when I asked him another question.
"When will you be back?"
"I don't know." That made me interested. He gave me a peck on the cheek. "Six months at the earliest." He led Cavalier out of his stall. I could only stare in amazement to for a few moments.
"Six months?!" My father threw the sable bags on Cavalier's back and tied them. Then he turned put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye.
"Maia, there's trouble in the kingdom. A rebel is vying for the kingship. Prince Duncan is massing an army in Norgate. He needs the help of the Rangers, so that means me." I was so startled by these revelations that I could only nod numbly. My father mounted. He was about to ride when a thought penetrated my haze.
"Wait! Let me go with you! I can help!" He looked at me with such tenderness.
"No."
I frowned, puzzled. "Why ever not?"
He closed his eye for a moment before answering. Then, he spoke calmly. "Maia, you are a skilled archer. You can hit the bull's eye with a knife nine time out of ten, but you aren't ready for a battle." He raised hand to stop my outburst. "I know you think you are, but the horror of it would destroy you. I think, if need be, you could fight, but I don't want that for you. I think you would be happier living a life away from combat." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Ahem…Another reason is that you are weaker. You could endanger the lives of others. In the end, you will make your own choice of what life you will lead, but I do not want you to choose now."
I was hurt.
"As you wish Father."
He sighed. "I know when you're angry." I didn't meet his gaze. "I'm counting on you to watch the fief while I'm gone." I started.
"Are you serious? I'm not even a Ranger!"
He nodded decisively. "Yes. These are hard days. Many fiefs have a Ranger with no training. That was courtesy of the rebel Morgarath." I was honored by his trust.
"I will do my best." He smiled.
"Thank you. I'm sure you will. Oh, and by the way, there is a package for you in my room." He smiled with his mouth, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. "I'll see you as soon as I can." He trotted away. Before the bend in the trail hid him from my sight, he stopped, turned in the saddle, and raised a hand in farewell. I returned the gesture.
It was the last time I ever saw him. There is so much I wish I had said, so much that I would have asked him about.
Of course, I didn't know that at the time, so although I was surprised by the new information, my surprise was drowned by the overwhelming curiosity sparked by my father's mention of a package for me.
I looked in his room. On his bed was a beautiful bow. It was exactly my size. There was also a new quiver of arrows. I raised the bow and drew it. Even straining, I couldn't pull it all the way back.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I nearly released the bow string without an arrow. I relaxed the tension and dropped it like it was on fire. It was undoubtedly to be my sixteenth birthday present. "He isn't sure he's coming back," I said to the empty room. It was then that I was first afraid for the safety of my father. It was not to be the last.
I stared and the headboard of the bed blankly. The darkness in the room was lightening to grey. I suddenly noticed something hanging of the head of the bed. In my excitement over the bow, I had not noticed it. It was a cloak, but unlike the two I owned, this one was mottled grey and green like a Ranger's. "He wants me to look like one," I breathed in awe. As I lifted it, something fell to the floor. I picked of the stone pendant of my mother. My father had attached an explanatory note. I read it. Then I wept.