Requested by The Epic Sparkles.


"And that's how you do it!" Gilan finished with flourish, sticking his long, elegant sword point first in the soft ground. He had just concluded giving a very detailed demonstration on the various proper ways to deflect a sword thrust.

Halt blinked, trying to remove the faraway glazed look in his eyes, and answered with as much interest as possible, "Oh."

Gilan looked accusingly at his teacher. "You weren't listening to a word I was saying!"

"I was... No, I wasn't."

Gilan suppressed a moan as he slid his blue-hued blade into its scabbard. "I want to do some real sword practice."

It was Halt's turn to stifle a groan. "You have another practice with MacNeil in two weeks."

Gilan continued as though he hadn't heard Halt's statement. "Mock combat would be fun, I think."

Halt gave a small sigh and replied sarcastically, "Mock combat, of course! You stand here with your sword, and I'll stand fifty paces off with my bow."

Gilan made a face. "That's not mock combat. And I didn't mean with you. I thought maybe I could go to the Battleschool."

Halt raised an eyebrow at the last sentence. "You want to go bang swords with big, lumbering Battleschool apprentices who are twice your size?"

"I'm actually probably taller then most of them." The apprentice said thoughtfully, fiddling with the hilt of his sword.

Halt rolled his eyes and turned to enter the cabin, intending to make coffee. Prolonged conversations with Gilan always required a restorative. "I don't mean height. I mean weight. You're not exactly the most strapping fellow on the field, and you don't have the best history with the Redmont apprentices."

"Please, Halt!" Gilan pleaded. "If you let me go, I'll stop boring you with sword tactics!"

Halt considered the tempting offer. "Fine. Just don't get another bloody nose. You left enough stains on my rug from the last one they gave you."

Gilan winced at the memory. "Ugh. That won't happen again." The boy shuddered as he recalled the metallic taste of the blood running into his mouth.

Halt grunted in reply. Pouring himself a mug of the rich, fragrant coffee, he made his way over to his desk. Sitting down, he raised an eyebrow at his still motionless apprentice. "Are you going to leave? Or did you decide that you don't want to go after all?"

The words jerked Gilan into motion. "I'm going!" He called, and darted out the door.

Halt watched the boy run towards the trail to the Battleschool, his green and gray cloak streaming behind him. Taking a sip of his coffee, the Ranger picked up his first report. He had a short meeting at the castle with Baron Arald today. Perhaps he would go to the Battleschool as well. It would be intriguing watching his apprentice in action against Sir Rodney's apprentices. The Redmont Battleschool generally made quite capable warriors. At least, Halt thought gratingly, they might be considered to have slightly more brainpower then the average bash and whacker. Yes, Halt decided, he would go and watch the show.


The Battleschool could be heard before it could be seen. Halt had Abelard walking easily on a loose rein down the path from the castle. He had just finished his meeting, and was pleased to see that the sword drills were still going on. He wouldn't tell Gilan, of course, but he was rather interested in watching - assuming the Battleschool apprentices hadn't beaten him to a pulp.

Stopping Abelard at the edge of the woods, it only took Halt a short while to pick out his apprentice from Sir Rodney's. While Rodney's pupils were fully decked in chain mail, shields, and drill swords, Gilan, as was his custom, was dressed only in his tunic and breeches, and carried only a practice sword. Not to mention that Gilan looked similar to a stick figure, contrasted against the burly Battleschool students, Halt thought with a frown. Gilan was going to fill out eventually, the Ranger knew, but what he hadn't realized was how rangy his pupil really was. Compared to these boys, Gilan was downright scrawny. Halt made a mental note to start making Gilan eat more.

"Next!" Sir Rodney's booming voice carried across the yard. "Cadet Delbert and Apprentice Gilan." Strictly speaking, Gilan couldn't be labeled as a Cadet, but Rodney was hesitant to say just the boy's name. Titling Gilan as "Apprentice" was his compromise. Delbert moved into position, hefting the wooden drill sword from hand to hand, taking in his opponent. He had watched Gilan in combat against his fellow cadets, and admitted the apprentice Ranger was skilled. Clever and agile, Gilan was a competitor to be reckoned with. But, Delbert thought confidently, he had an advantage. He was a great deal heavier then the apprentice Ranger, and he was willing to bet that he was stronger. The tall, slim boy wouldn't last long against a whirlwind of his constant, powerful sword cuts. Gilan took his stance, sword point politely lowered toward to the earth, and the two boys waited for Sir Rodney's call.

"Begin!"

Delbert made the first move. Raising his sword, he delivered several powerful side cuts. Gilan parried them, staggering slightly at the sheer force behind them. As the opposing sword was moved to deliver an overhand cut, Gilan jumped out of reach, his eyes never leaving the opposition. Moving once again to avoid the sword, he played MacNeil's instructions through his mind, waiting for the right moments to act. You're not as brawny as most Battleschool students, The Swordmaster had said. We can't change that. However, we can compensate for it. You are more lithe, more quick. Use your speed against them. Surprise attacks are your friends.

And then, smoothly and rhythmically, Gilan's sword point flicked forward and tapped Delbert from behind.

Delbert paused, then stiffened, his face flushing. He didn't understand how he had failed to beat this lanky boy, who before the last blow had been using only defensive tactics. "Done!" The Battlemaster called out. "Apprentice Gilan wins."

Gilan lowered his sword point, then offered his hand to shake. Delbert turned to face him, his cheeks still red. Gilan watched the Battleschool apprentice cautiously as the other boy extended his own hand. A few feet away, Delbert's right hand clenched into a fist, and he swung his arm savagely, trying to catch the apprentice Ranger in the face. Gilan ducked, only to be hit by Delbert's left hand a split second later. Gilan's hand flew to his stinging nose, which was gushing blood like a faucet, while Rodney grabbed Delbert's arm and shoved him back towards the other cadets, reprimanding him.

"'Alt's 'oing to ki' me," Gilan moaned thickly as he attempted to stem the flow of blood. Rodney was ending the combat session, ordering his cadets back to their dormitories. Turning to Gilan, the broad Battlemaster addressed him.

"You'd best go home now."

Gilan nodded numbly. "Yes, si'." Turning and picking up his cloak, the boy fastened it on, taking extra time to grab a large fold of the fabric and press it against his face. Moving towards the trail, gingerly dabbing at his nose, Gilan contemplated how he would approach his exasperated mentor.


Halt had left his viewpoint almost immediately after he saw Delbert clench his fist. Cantering Abelard back to cabin, he quickly unsaddled his horse and settled himself in his chair. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he had never left. Several minutes later, he recognized Gilan's step on the porch. "Stop! Wait out there." He called quickly.

"'M blee'ing!" Came the indignant reply.

"Yes. Stay out there until it stops. I don't want my home to look like a murder scene." Halt responded with a wince as he caught sight of his blood covered apprentice through the window.

Gilan's long sigh was wasted by the need to cough. "Cou' you dow me a wag, den? 'M cloak id nas'y."

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't find anything else to wipe the blood? You had to use your cloak, of all things." The grizzled Ranger said in a long suffering tone.

"Sworry."

"At least it's not on my rug this time." Halt muttered in an undertone, tossing an old rag through the window.

"Um, Halt?" The boy's voice was clearer now, but very hesitant. "Remember how you had me take the rug outside to air it out...?"

Halt's head landed on his desk. "We are never playing with Battleschool apprentices again!"


The ending was weak, but I wanted to get it up. This is a pretty direct reference to my story Avenging a Bloody Nose.

Please review! They make my day! Next chapter: Requested by everything ecstatic, Gilan pulls yet another prank on Halt. ;)

-TrustTheCloak