A/N Here's chapter 4. It's quite difficult to write with a hot... Uhm what's the english word... Turnover? I think? In Dutch it's appelflappen! Ayway. That and I had a bit of a writers block. I hope you like it. Damn it my cat is trying to eat my fingers and ruining my typing.

Something like me: Well thank you. I will continue to do what I do :P

namvd: Sorry for the short chapters, but I'm not very good at writing long ones. I blame my brains. And thank you!

Guest: Yeah well, she's not smart :P That's one of her flaws. She trusts people way to easy if she thinks they look trustworthy.

ScbaStv: THAT IS A VERY GOOD POINT! I completely forgot to be honest. I fixed it ( a bit stupid if you ask me) in this chapter. I love making people yawn. though usually I'm the one yawning. I actually managed to stay awake for an entire sociology class. THAT'S A RECORD! Worst. mandatory. subject. ever. Thank you for your review!

moniquebowman: Thank you! Nah May isn't that poor, I just like to take my anger out on paper :D Yeah maybe a little forlorn (don't ask. google translate.)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE RANGERS APPRENTICE

Chapter 4.

May:

I wake up back at camp. How did I get here? I thought I was looking at the moon somewhere in the forest. I sit up and stretch. I must have fallen asleep. Gilan, Horace and Will are sitting near the almost dead fire.

"Goodmorning." Gilan says. I glare at him. "Oh I forgot. You don't do good mornings. They're evil right?" Now I smile, and get up to sit with them.
"I meant to ask you earlier." I say. "How did you know to wake me up?" Seriously, I have no idea how they do it.
"You talk in your sleep." Will says when he hands me a cup of coffee.

"Okay, embarrassing." I say.
"That, and you're kicking everything you can reach. This time, me."
"Sorry Will." Will just shrugs.
"Let's get going. We leave in 20 minutes." Gilan says. I nod and get some breakfast. It's going to be a long day.

25 minutes later we leave. I look up to the sky. Looks like there's some rain coming.
"We'll reache the border tomorrow I think." Gilan says. Sounds about right.. I used to live there, before I moved to Auraluen. We moved a lot due to our family history. I just hope we're not going to the town I used to live in. We didn't exactly leave on friendly terms.

"Hey Gilan? We're not going through pordellath by chance?" I ask.
"Actually I was planning to find a place to sleep there. Why?"
"Damn." I mutter. "No reason." I say with a smile. This is going to be difficult. I pull up the cowl of my cloak. Hoping no one will see I'm slightly scared of what will happen. I just hope no one will recognize me. That will become a problem. We lived there for about two years. I made friends there. Then they found out. They called me demons child. We had to leave because of that.

"let's stop for the rest of the day." Gilan says. It had been raining the entire morning.. It's midafternoon now, and the rain finally stopped. I get off Hunter and make sure he's comfortable. I stretch and go to find some firewood. When I get back I light the fire and sit down next to Gilan. He gives me a quick kiss before springing to his feet.
"Right, Lessons." He says. I groan. I thought I'd get a break from that.
"Lessons?" Will asks surprized.
"Yeah, lessons." Gilan says cheerfully. "We might be on a mission, but that doesn't change the fact that you three still have lessons."

"Three?" Asks Horace. "Why would I be taught ranger skills?"
Gilan smiles and picks up his sword. He unsheathes it and shows it to Horace.
"Not Ranger skills, combat skills. Who knows when you'll need it. There's a war coming you know. Now let me see that toothpick of yours."

"Oh right." Horace says. He unsheathes his own sword and points it at the ground. Gilan sticks his in the ground just missing my foot.
"Hey, whatch it Gil!" I say quickly pulling away my foot.
"Oops. Now, Horace. May I see that please?" He says. Horace hands him his sword and Gilan inspects it.

"See this?" He asks Will and me. "This is how a sword should be like." Will shrugs and I try to find something different about the sword.
"Doesn't look special to me." Will says.
"Sir Rodney says jewels in the hilt are just unnecessary weight." Horace says. He has a point. I think to myself.
"Very well Horace, I've seen that the sword is a good quality. Let's see about the owner." Gilan says. He returns Horace's sword, who looks a bit awkward.

"Sir?"
"Attack me." Gilan says cheerfully. "Have a swing, chop my head off." Horace still makes no motion to attack Gilan. After a while Gilan sighs.
"Come on now, we don't have all night." He says.
"But I'm a trained warrior. And swordfighting is not a rangerskill." Horace says.
"True, but you've onl been training for about a year. I think I can manage to keep my head."

"Come on now Horace. I'm sure Gil can defend himself." I tell him. I've seen Gilan practise with his sword before, and I'm trying to not laugh. It's good that I still have my hood pulled up.
"Thank you May." Gilan says mockingly. Reluctantly, Horace swings a half-hearted blow at Gilan. Obviously, he was worried that, if he should penetrate the Ranger's guard, he was not sufficiently experienced to pull the blow and avoid injuring him. Gilan didn't even raise his sword to protect himself. Instead, he sways it easily to one side and Horace's blade passes harmlessly clear of him.
"Come on!" Gilan says. 'Do it as if you mean it!"
Horace takes a deep breath and swings a full-blooded roundhouse stroke at Gilan.
"See that's more like it."

Gilan's sword, seemingly propelled only by his fingers and wrist, swings in a flashing arc to intercept Horace's blow. There is a ring of steel and Horace stopps, surprised. The parry had jarred his hand through to the elbow. Gilan raises his eyebrows at him.
"Try again." Gilan says.
And Horace does. Backhands, overhead cuts, round arm swings.

Each time, Gilan's sword flicked into position to block the stroke with a resounding clash. As they continued, Horace swung harder and faster. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his shirt was soaked. Now he had no thought of trying not to hurt Gilan. He cut and slashed freely, trying to break through that impenetrable defence. At least that's what it looks like. Eventually Gilan stops.

"Okay that's enough. Not bad." He says.
"Not bad? I was terrible. I never even broke through your defence once." Horace says.
"Well, I expected that. I've done these kind of things before." Gilan admits.
"Yes." Pants Horace. "But you're a ranger. And everyone knows rangers don't use swords."
"This one does."I laugh.
"Appearantly." Will says.
"You may say that again. If you don't mind me asking, sir. Where have you learned your swordmanship? It's something I've never seen before." Horace says.

"Again with the Sir." Gilan sighs. "My master was a certain northener named MacNeil."
"MacNeil!" Horace says in awe. "You don't mean the MacNeil? MacNeil of Bannock?" Gilan nods.
"He's the one," he replies. "You've heard of him then?"
Horace nods enthousiastically. "Who hasn't heard of MacNeil?"

"I haven't." I say. "Sorry." I saw that Will was about to say the same thing, but now he just closes his mouth. Coward. I mock-glare at him.
"So who's this Neil person?" I ask Gilan.
"MacNeil." Says Horace. "He's a legend!"
"Oh, he's real enough," says Gilan. "I should know. I practised under him for five years. I started when I was eleven, then, at fourteen, I was apprenticed to Halt. But he always gave me leave of absence to continue my work with the Swordmaster."
"But why did you continue to learn the sword after you started training as a Ranger?" Horace asks. Gilan shrugs.

"Maybe people thought it was a shame to waste all that early training. I certainly wanted to continue, and my father is Sir David of Caraway Fief, so I suppose I was given some leeway in the matter." Horace sits up a little straighter at the mention of the name.
"Battlemaster David?" he says, obviously more than a little impressed. "The new supreme commander?" Gilan nods, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm.
"The same," he says. Then, seeing that Will is still in the dark, he explains further:
"My father has been appointed supreme commander of the King's armies, since Lord Northolt was murdered. He commanded the cavalry at the Battle of Hackham Heath." Will's eyes widened. "When Morgarath was defeated and driven into the mountains?"

"I'm sorry but who is Morgarath?" I ask them.
"Have you been living in a cave the past 16 years?" Horace asks.
"More or less." I tell them.

"He's the big bad man, we're going to protect you from." Gilan says mockingly, and he kisses me on my cheek.
"Oh please, You three? I can kick those two's asses if I'm up to it." I say.
"But you're a girl!" Horace exclaims.
"Really you want to go there again?" I tell him. I'm really getting sick and tired of this. When he doesn't answer I get up.
"Fine. Want to be the tough guy? Get up and we'll see if girls cn beat boys." Gilan pulls me back down.
"May, not now. You'll get your chane but right now it isn't fair. He just fought me, so he's tired. We'll see again tomorrow." He says. He puts his arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder.

"Fine, but I'm still going to kick his ass." I say.
"So what did your father have to do with this MacNeil character?" Horace asks, returning to the subject.
"Well," says Gilan, "my father was a former pupil as well. It was only natural that MacNeil should gravitate to his Battleschool, wasn't it?"
"I suppose so," Will agreed.
"And it was only natural that I should come under his tutelage as soon as I could swing a sword. After all, I was the Battlemaster's son."
"So how was it that you became a Ranger?" Horace asks. "Weren't you accepted as a knight?" Will, Gilan and I all look at him quizzically, somewhat amused by his assumption that a person only became a Ranger after failing to become a knight or a warrior.

"I mean … you know. Well, most of us want to be knights, don't we?" Will and Gilan exchanged glances. Gilan raised an eyebrow. Horace blunders on.
"I mean … no offence or anything … but everyone I know wants to be a warrior." His embarrassment lessens as he points a forefinger at Will. "You did yourself, Will! I remember when we were kids, you used to always say you were going to Battleschool and you'd be a famous knight!" I am unable to hold my laughter after this statement.

"Oh please do tell." I aks them.
"It doesn't matter. You always mocked me that I was too small." Will says, getting a bit angry.
"Well you are, aren't you?"
"Is that right?" Will replies, angrily. "Well, does it occur to you that maybe Halt had already spoken to Sir Rodney and said he wanted me as an apprentice? And that's the reason why I wasn't selected for Battleschool? Has that ever occurred to you?"

Gilan interrupts at this point, gently stopping the argument before it could get any further out of hand.
"I think that's enough of childhood squabbles," he says firmly. Both boys, each ready with another verbal barb, subside a little awkwardly.
"Oh … yes. Right," mumbles Will. "Sorry." Horace nods several times, embarrassed at the petty scene that had just occurred.
"Me too," he says. Then, curiosity piqued, he adds: "Is that how it happened, Will? Did Halt tell Sir Rodney not to pick you because he wanted you for a Ranger?" Will starts to pick at a loose thread on his shirt
"Well … not exactly," he says, then says, "And you're right. I always did want to be a knight when I was a kid." Then, turning quickly to Gilan, he adds, "But I wouldn't change now, not for anything!"

Gilan smiles at the two of them.
"I was the opposite," he says. "Remember, I grew up in the Battleschool. I may have started my training with MacNeil when I was eleven, but I began my basic training at around nine."
"That must have been wonderful," Horace says with a sigh. Surprisingly, Gilan shakes his head.
"Not to me. You know what they say about distant pastures always looking greener?"
"It means that everything you don't have looks better than it is." I tell the boys when they both look puzzled.
"Thank you May." Gilan says. "Well, that's the way I was. By the time I was twelve, I was sick to death of the discipline and drills and parades." He glances sidelong at Horace. "There's a bit of that goes on in Battleschool, you know." The heavy-set boy sighs.

"You're telling me," he agrees. "Still, the horsemanship and practice combats are fun."
"Maybe," says Gilan. "But I was more interested in the life the Rangers led. After Hackham Heath, my father and Halt had become good friends and Halt used to come visiting. I'd see him come and go. So mysterious. So adventurous. I started to think what it might be like to come and go as you please. To live in the forests. People know so little about Rangers, it seemed like the most exciting thing in the world to me." Horace looks doubtful.

"I've always been a little scared of Halt," he says. "I used to think he was some kind of sorcerer." Will snorts in disbelief.
"Halt? A sorcerer?" he says. "He's nothing of the kind!" Horace looks at him, pained once again.
"But you used to think the same thing!" he says.
"Well … I suppose so. But I was only a kid then."
"So was I!" replies Horace, with devastating logic. That's the last I hear from them before I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

A/N So that's it. I hope you like it. And I was thinking of posting an avengers fic. I know I tried one before, but I didn't like it so I deleted it. Same concept but a little different. So yes? no? let me know. If you want to know more pm me and I'll sent the summary. As always. Review.