A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews! They're much appreciated!
With regard to Gilan's age, as a savvy reviewer pointed out that his already being old enough to graduate tends to make the age difference between him and Jenny a little weird...I finally saw on the wiki where it says he was probably twenty-three at most during Ruins of Gorlan. Which would make him...eight...around eight, in this story. *Sobs* That breaks my headcanon. Although it does make me wonder if Flanagan has any explanations about how, in all the time Will was at Redmont while Gil was an apprentice, he never once saw Gilan before his first gathering? *Twilight zone music* *Of bitterness*
Ehhhh I'll probably do another revision later to fix that. Plus a younger Gilan would be fun to work with anyway...but for now, we'll just call this an AU, maybe?
The missive arrived some days in advance, delivered by a nervous carrier to Halt's door as he and Gilan were preparing the mid-day meal. It took a bit of doing to actually receive the letter in the first place. The knocks on the door had been sporadic and timid, leaving Halt to wonder how long the poor girl had stood on the porch before he actually heard her.
When he answered, he found himself looking down at a wide-eyed, awkward lass of less-than-average height who blushed furiously and refused to meet his gaze. He waited patiently for her jittery stammering to cease, but when all she'd managed was a squeaked, "R-ranger Halt, sir," before ducking her head and blushing still more, the Ranger found his patience waning ever so slightly.
His eyes caught the paper in the girl's fumbling hands, and he raised an eyebrow. "That for me?" it occurred to him to keep his voice soft and non-threatening, but the girl seemed poised for flight nonetheless.
She nodded repeatedly, holding the document toward him with the air of a cat investigating a potential hazard. "Yes sir," came the mumbled reply, "from the Baron, sir," she wobbled between a curtsy and a bow as Halt, eyebrow still quirked, took the paper from her.
"Hm." He started to close the door, but a glance up showed him the girl was still there, and she dropped her gaze the moment she found his on her again. "Will that be all?" Halt inquired, and the girl hastily nodded once more, taking a step back.
"Oh yes," she replied, mouth opening and closing a few more times before she managed to speak again, "andthankyouforyourservicetoAraluensir."
With that, she curtsied again and was off before the man could reply.
Gilan looked up from the pot he was stirring as Halt stepped back into the house, curiosity plain on his face. "What was that about?"
"Tell me, Gilan," Halt replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table and staring in bewilderment at the letter in his hands, "What is it people think is going to happen to them if they come too near a Ranger?"
His soon-to-be-graduating apprentice snorted. "D'you mean the stories people pass around or the impression you personally give them?"
Halt sent him a withering glare as he flicked the letter open. "I hope that silly creature isn't one of Pauline's newest," he mused, ignoring Gilan, "She doesn't look the sort to begin wars, but it seems a difficult to task to be a mute diplomat…"
"Ha," Gilan smirked and gave the stew another stir, "Pity her if she is new and sent straight away to bring you a letter…you did try not to look too severe, didn't you?" he picked up a spoon and, closing his eyes as if in thought, sampled a taste of the pot's simmering contents. Murmuring to himself, he whisked a jar of spices from the counter and added another dash before leaning nonchalantly back against the counter.
""It isn't my fault," Halt protested, re-folding the letter and placing it in his shirt pocket, "That's just my face. Some people find it offensive."
"Well, I think it's a nice face," Gilan said with a grin, "But what does the Baron want?"
Halt cast him a wry expression. Of course it was only ever a matter of time before Gilan got around to asking. "He apparently agrees with you," he replied after a pause, "So much so that he says it's urgent that I meet with him before the end of this week."
Gilan, ever inquisitive, asked more questions as the two settled in for their meal, but he'd known Halt long enough to know when to give up, and in all honesty Halt had no answers to give him about the nature of his upcoming visit with Baron Arald. The letter had been extremely vague, barely more than a polite greeting and a request for Halt's presence to deal with an 'urgent matter'…the Ranger supposed all would become clear when he arrived at the castle, and their conversation soon turned to other matters.
Three days later, Halt found himself riding toward Castle Redmont, natural curiosity still piqued. He truly had no idea what the baron could need that would be considered 'urgent'. No mutterings from the village folk had reached his ears of anything out of the ordinary going on. For the most part, Halt's recent duties had consisted of little more than the occasional task of assisting the local guards and working on the final stages of Gilan's training.
The latter certainly felt urgent to Halt, but he couldn't help musing with a flickering flame of concern what could've prompted Arald to use the word.
The baron respected Halt, and it was not a practice to summon him like a servant to the castle. But the two men saw each other as equals, and treated one another as such in all but the most formal of situations. The Ranger dropped by fairly often of his own accord, sometimes on the regular official business that came with his post, and sometimes to discuss current matters. He counted the baron as a friend, in every sense of the word, and readily responded when asked for.
His mind conjured up possibilities for Arald's request at a rapid yet organized pace, and he absently allowed it to continue as he traveled the familiar path to Castle Redmont, only inwardly chiding himself as the darker notions reared their heads and threatened to cause more worry than was yet due.
Other than the note, there was nothing out of the ordinary about today's visit to the baron. As usual, the Ranger found himself moving past people who hurried out of the way and cast strange looks in his direction, ranging from awe tinted with fear to hesitant admiration. The stable boys were anxious as ever when he handed them Abelard's reins, and his walk through the castle was punctuated with curtly polite nods and 'hello's.
It wasn't until he reached the baron's quarters that anything felt truly amiss.
Stepping through the entry into the anteroom, Halt took in his surroundings with all his usual practiced speed- a force of habit, ingrained by long years of training at his craft, taking note of all possible entrances, exits, hiding places…and the blur that suddenly launched itself up and forward from a bench against one wall.
"There you are," exclaimed the blur, drawing itself up to full importance and grasping its lapels in an appraising manner.
Halt met the man's gaze evenly, until the other's stare became fixed on a point past his shoulder. "I'm not late-"
The man looked him up and down, nose twitching and eyes widening by a fraction before taking a hasty, sliding step back away from the grim figure. His jaw moved, and he gave a sudden click of the tongue. "Not at all, of course," he amended, far more loudly than strictly called for. He squinted, taking in the Ranger's attire and avoiding his face, "and you must be Ranger Halt, sir!" the man threw his head back, giving a sharp nod and missing the sight of Halt's eyes rolling skyward. He also missed the faint movement of the Ranger's mouth as he muttered something to the ceiling.
"No doubt here to see the very important matter for which your attention was requested?" Martin continued, "Very good. I am Martin, Secretary to Baron Ara-"
"Mm," Halt gestured to one of the doors, already moving toward it, "He's in there?"
The sickly wide, important smile Martin had been working on slipped, jaw now working furiously as his knees fought with each other, pedaling to the door and sliding in front of it just as Halt's hand touched the knob. "Wait, wait," the man squeaked, giving a little cough. His now slightly bent angle had him staring up into a pair of grim hazel eyes and a raised eyebrow. He coughed again. "If you'll just take a seat, hm…" Martin's eyes went wide again and he smiled a little too much as he pointed to the bench he'd previously occupied, "over there. I shall notify the Baron of your arrival."
Halt blinked, but took his hand off the door. At Martin's overly-encouraging nod, the Ranger moved to the indicated bench.
No sooner had he sat down, than Martin knocked in what seemed a practiced way upon the door, opening it just enough to stick his head through. "Ranger Halt to see you, my lord."
Halt closed his eyes and grit his teeth, standing again.
There was a moment of silence before…
"Baron Arald will see you n-"
Martin gave an undignified gasp as the Ranger brushed past him and into the office without waiting for him to finish.
"Sir, if you'll just-"
Halt pushed the door closed and leaned back against it for a few moments, looking up to find Arald watching him with something between amusement and an apologetic smirk. "I see you've met Martin?"
Grimacing, Halt moved further into the room when he was sure the birdlike fellow wasn't going to try breaking down the door.
"Yes, yes," Arald mused, motioning to the empty chair in front of his desk, "Have a seat, Halt, thank you for coming. Ah…would you like anything brought? Coffee, perhaps?" seeing the questioning look he was receiving from Halt, Arald added, "I'll have to send Martin to let Pauline know you're here, so in the meantime-"
"Pauline-?" so the matter would have something to do with diplomacy…but that didn't explain the nervous smile the baron was wearing.
"She's generously agreed to help…coffee, then. Excuse me." Arald walked to the door, briefly calling for Martin and relaying instructions before returning to his desk. His fingers drummed anxiously upon its surface until he noticed the Ranger still watching him, an expectant look about his face.
Arald took a deep breath.
"Halt," he began uneasily, "As you'll realize soon, you're the only one left I'm comfortable turning to with this. Ordinarily, I'd never ask this of you, but as it is, circumstances are forcing my hand."
When Halt didn't say anything, and continued to wait for an explanation, Arald sighed. Rubbing at his temples as if to ease a headache, the baron fixed his friend with a different sort of look. "How is Gilan's apprenticeship coming along?" he asked abruptly, "He's nearly finished?"
Unsure what his apprentice had to do with the apparently urgent matter for which his presence had been requested, Halt nodded once. "He'll finish out this year, come next Gathering he'll be tested. Though," A flare of pride tugged the corner of Halt's mouth into a rare smile. "That's mainly for the sake of formality."
Arald was nodding again as he listened. "So, he won't be with you much longer?"
Before the Ranger could reply, a knock came at the door and, at a call of assent from the baron, it opened.
The first person to enter was a maid, bearing a tray loaded with cups, a steaming pot, and a few saucers of various kitchen-offerings. She placed the tray on the desk and left again after a quiet, "Thank you, Amelya," by Arald.
After her came Martin, looking flustered and put-out as he gasped, "Lady Pauline and-"
"Thank you, Martin," Pauline murmured politely as she swept past him and into the room. Nodding to Arald, "Sir," and to the Ranger, she offered a faint but warm smile. "Halt,"
Ignoring Martin's retreat from the room, Halt's eyes focused briefly on Pauline's face before absently drifting to what she was carrying. "Pauline…" It was barely audible, and the man turned back to Arald with a bewildered expression on his face.
"Halt," Arald began carefully as he stood and moved to Pauline's side. He smiled down at the squirming toddler she held, one hand running lightly through the boy's messy brown hair as a pair of dark, curious eyes flicked this way and that around the room. "I trust you remember young Will, the child you brought to us two years ago…? "
Halt filled one of the cups with coffee and drank the whole thing in two hot, eye-watering mouthfuls. He felt his eyes narrow in suspicion before he could stop them as he refilled the cup. "I remember…"
Arald exchanged uncomfortable glances with Pauline as he sat down again. Pauline moved, gracefully as ever despite the wriggling creature in her arms, to sit on one of the chairs near the office's window. The boy continued to squirm from his place on her lap, and only stopped when he noticed Halt watching him.
It was with a vague surge of annoyance that Halt noted the boy flinched back against Pauline.
"Well," the baron appeared even more nervous, shifting in his seat as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "There have been…" he tugged at the collar of his shirt, "Complications…with his arrangements. Unforeseen complications." Catching Halt's pointed stare, he hurried along, "I had placed him with a farming family, but they're now expecting another child of their own and worry about him being overlooked."
"That was never supposed to be a permanent situation..." Halt began, old worries coming to the surface.
"No," the baron continued, "But there's no room for him here, either. My staff are already stretched caring for the Wards we have, and I don't enjoy the thought of a little one being given insufficient care because of my determination to keep him where there's no open place." He gave a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Even the older wards, outside of his year group, won't be old enough for a Choosing day for another year."
Halt found himself looking to Pauline, unsure what was expected of him. "And…? Is there no one who can take him until then?"
Arald cleared his throat, but Pauline answered for him. "There has been one offer," she replied slowly.
Halt frowned. "But…?"
"But it isn't an offer to care for him until there's a place here; it's an offer to adopt him permanently,"
"I know how you object to the boy growing up as a farmer," Arald picked up where Pauline had left off, "The man offering is a widower with no children of his own. He seems eager, but…"
"He's a miner," Pauline finished.
Halt felt his heart sink before he could stop it, suddenly understanding what he was being told.
"I'm afraid that leaves us with very few options," the baron pressed on, "He can go to live with this man, likely following the same trade when he grows up, or an orphanage can be found, or-"
"Or-?" Halt's gaze fixed on Arald.
"Or," Pauline replied for him, "We thought you could take him."
That's a wrap on the set up, I guess XD