Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, made possible by the Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. I have only borrowed his creation and I make no money. For this story I have used several other Rangers from the books, though I've also added my own. I do this only in the hope to entertain…

Author's Note: No harm shall come to the characters that can't be fixed with enough coffee…

Chapter 14

Though Will had not really expected to sleep he still found that at some point during the night he had drifted off. The room he had been given in the castle was not very large, it contained only a small table, chair and the bed. Even so it was quite comfortable. The bed had a good straw mattress and he had slept on far worse. If it had not been for the loss of his friend he would have enjoyed the chance of staying there, seeing Horace who now stayed permanently at the castle Araluen.

Horace didn't know, he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. There were so many things he still needed to do, he needed to give Sir David all of Gilan's things. The ones he had had with him at least. He needed to tell Horace and Cassandra, both would be saddened.

Throwing off the blanket he sat up, reaching for his socks and pants to dress. A breakfast would be served he knew, where all the ones who worked at the castle could go in and have a bowl of porridge, bread and watered down ale to drink. Coffee would be more rare there, but granted him if he only asked for it. He could also find Crowley and eat with him, but he wasn't in the mood for company. He liked Crowley, he really did, but he did not know him as Halt did, and Gilan…

The thought was still like a punch to his belly, it choked him and took his breath away. Gilan had always got along great with Crowley, the two of them having an easy relationship.

He should seek out Crowley later, he mused as he tucked in his shirt. He should seek him out and see how he was doing.

Pulling on his boots he started down, he wasn't hungry, not at all, but he knew he would need it before he started the day. Not eating was not going to bring Gilan back, Crowley was right about that.

Having quickly eaten a bowl of porridge without really tasting it he went up to his sleeping chamber and retrieved Gilan's blanket roll, saddle bag and sword. He asked for where Sir David was, and found he had not joined the court for his morning meal, but eaten in his own private study. When he had climbed the stairs there, the young Battleschool cadet who guarded the door first seemed hesitant to announce him, then did so with a regretful air. He disappeared into the inner chamber for a moment, coming back out with an uneasy shrug.

"You can go in now, Ranger," he stated, a curious glance at Will's burden.

With a nod, he stepped into the room, it reminded him a lot about Baron Arald's office in Redmont. Aside from the fact there was no bowl of sweets on the desk. The desk was massive, a dark oak with a few simple adornments on it. On one side was a straight backed chair the Battlemaster no doubt used, on the other, three chairs for visitors. His sword lay on the polished wood, where it would be within easy reach of his right hand. It was however far from the only weapon in the room Will noted. He was trained to always pay attention to details, no matter his state of mind, and the large battle axe mounted on the wall behind the desk would be hard to miss. There was a shield also, and in one corner stood several spears with broad heavy points. A large heavy dagger served as a paper weight, and his armour was in the corner.

Should someone manage to get through all the way to him without being challenged, Sir David was not one who would be taken defenceless, that much was obvious.

The only other thing Will found noteworthy was how one wall was mainly taken up by maps in various sizes, of different parts of the country and even other countries. Whatever he needed to serve his role of protecting the kingdom, it was obvious that Sir David had it ready at hand, except his son.

"Ranger Treaty," Sir David nodded to him, standing behind the desk.

The use of his last name took Will back a moment, but then he felt it was only fitting, he was the reason why Sir David did not have his son any more after all.

Though as he looked at him, the man frowned, his face lined and weary. "I'm sorry, Will," he started slowly. "I find I am in a heavy mood today, I've always found I tend to be more formal than needed at such times. It seems to make it easier to function, please don't think I'm too cold."

"I understand," Will nodded slowly.

"How are you doing?" the older man motioned to the other corner of the room, further from the desk, where a couple slightly more comfortable chairs stood around a table.

Will followed him, though mostly as he did not know what to do. He was at a loss what was the proper thing to say and do. "I'm so sorry…."

"It was not your fault," David paused, staring at the window though he could not say he knew what was outside. "Gilan did his duty, and that's all there is to it."

"No, it's not," Will gasped.

"It is," David turned to face him, his face a little harder now. "I trained him to be a knight, and I gave my blessing for Halt to train him as a Ranger, because I trusted Halt. He was right, it was much more suitable for Gilan, and I prayed it would never come to this end, but it did. My son died performing his duty to his country and to his fellow Ranger. I would have asked no more or no less of any man in my command."

"It shouldn't have happened…" Will swallowed. "I should have been more vigilant, and then it wouldn't have happened."

"Maybe, maybe not," David shrugged. "None of us can know that. I've sent other men's sons into battle. So many fathers that had to bury their sons, so many mothers who will never hold them again. Now it is my son, and for all that it is much more personal, it is no different. How could I have asked others to send me their sons, if I would not send my own? When Gilan was much more skilful than so many of them?"

He shook himself, as if trying to shake himself out of the mood. "That boy was my world. He was all I had except for my duty, and I must do mine as he did his, or how can I call myself fit to be his father?"

There seemed to be nothing Will could say to that, so he just nodded mutely. He could understand Sir David's reasoning, he could understand that the man would fall back on duty when he felt he had nothing left. It seemed to him Crowley was doing the same thing, while he himself could not see how they did it.

More than anything he wished Halt was there, he would know what to do, he would be able to tell Will what to do, how to get over the pain.

It was only then it struck him that Halt did not know, Halt had no idea of what had happened, and when he got back and found out, he would be devastated. "I brought you Gilan's things, what he had with him at any account, I, well, I don't know what's in his cabin…" Will's voice faltered.

"Thank you," David took a look at the bundle, there wasn't a lot and he knew there wouldn't be much more in the cabin. No doubt the next Ranger to take it would gather everything and send it to Crowley. He still knelt to pick out a few items, a shirt that still smelled like his son, and he clutched it in his hands for a moment. Under the worn shirt, that he absently noted needed mending, was Gilan's notebook. He placed that on the table, running a hand over the leather.

"I uh, I used a couple of pages in that, before he, before it happened, while I waited for him," Will admitted. "At the time, I didn't think he'd mind…"

"He wouldn't," David flipped through the sheets, finding the two pages in question. Gilan wouldn't have minded, his son had always given so freely. He would never have begrudged Will using even his last pages. Though the boy liked to sketch at times, he had never wanted anyone to really know much about it, but he would not have minded Will knowing. He considered the younger Ranger a younger brother. "Do you want to have them?"

"No, not really," Will shrugged. "Not now…"

David nodded slowly, he could understand why, the younger Ranger was not so old, not in the same way Gilan had been. Both of them had been through a lot but Will was in some way still untouched by it, while Gilan had seen how cruel the world was from an early age, and had still found a way to go through it with a smile.

Growing up in Battleschool had not always been easy for the boy, many of his friends were the older men in service, and they were the ones who sometimes went away to never return…

He picked up the sword, it looked so simple, no adornments, purely functional. It's worth lay in the quality of the blade and the perfect balance. It was one of the best swords to be had, and Gilan had handled it with a master's skill since he was eleven. He knew his son had considered himself to be amongst the best dozen or so in the country, as MacNeil had told him he was. Yet David was not so certain there were many of that dozen who could have defeated his son in fair combat. Knowing this he had not really worried for his son in that regard, and yet now, the blade was all he had to hold of him.

He did not draw the sword, he did not need to do so in order to know the blade would be in perfect condition. Gilan had always taken the best care of his weapons. Instead he held it by the scabbard, offering the hilt to the young Ranger. "I think he would have wanted you to have this."

"But, but it's his sword, it should be yours," Will gaped.

"I won't be remembering my son by his sword," David shook his head. "He saw you as a brother, I think it is what he would have wanted, and I want you to have it."

"Shouldn't it be Halt's then?" Will swallowed thickly, his throat so tight it took him several tries.

"Halt is like me," David shook his head. "He will not want it, but I think you need it."

"I don't even know how to use a sword," Will objected, yet he found himself reaching out his hand to take it.

"It's not for fighting you'll need it," David mused. "It would take you a dozen years to learn to wield that blade well enough to be worthy of it, if that was the reason. That's not why he would want you to have it, he would want you to remember and know, that it was not your fault."

As the words registered, Will's hand froze on the hilt, the cool metal against his skin.

"I will feel the loss of my son every day, but it was his choice to do his duty, don't take that away from him…" David asked, near pleading as Will's hand seemed to close around the sword on his own. "It's natural to feel guilty," David went on. "That does not mean it's true. What is true is that Gilan was courageous and honourable…"

"He was," Will nodded. Awkwardly holding the sword. So far, it seemed Sir David had done his best to comfort him, when he had lost his own son. For Gilan's sake, if nothing else, it seemed he should try to be a comfort for the man, and not a burden. "Sir, will you be okay?"

"No, not really," David shook his head with a sad smile. "Not for a long time, but there is nothing to be done about that." He shrugged, "I just wanted to see you, to, well….to do what I could I suppose, though it's not much. You'll forgive me, I need to see to the new cadets now…"

"Yes sir, and thank you sir," it was less that he was wanted somewhere, and more that he wanted a moment alone Will sensed. It seemed the kindest he could do was to give him that time, so he stood and made for the door. The sword was heavy and somewhat awkward in his hand. For some reason even more now than when he had carried it up to David's office. He did not see how he could be worthy of it, but how could he deny David? The man was torn apart by the loss of his son, how then could Will say that he was wrong? Even if he hardly felt worthy of the gift, how could he deny it?

With a heavy heart he went back to the small room where he had slept. Laying the sword over the small table he eased himself down on the bed. At a loss of what to do with himself. Feeling too weary to take the initiative to really do anything at all he laid down on his back, starring at the ceiling and refusing to turn his head towards the table.

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…