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 30

They left the next day, in Baron Vahron's private carriage. The Baron hadn't exactly been thrilled about this, though as soon as it was suggested he had found no way to object. Obviously scared of getting on a bad standing with the Rangers he had found himself hurriedly agreeing, though Crowley saw him wring his hands. He and Halt had both slept comfortably enough on empty beds in the infirmary. Something he was glad for the first time the lad's screams woke them.

Caught in a nightmare he had not known where he was, and it had taken Halt to sooth him and ease him back asleep. Now Crowley was still tiered after a few such spells during the night. The castle was full of sounds during the night, and it obviously hadn't been able to offer Gilan a restful night.

In the light day though, at least he knew where he was and who was with him. Though quiet and subdued, nothing at all like his usual cheerful self he had allowed himself to be fed more soup, and bundled up in clothes that had been requested for him for the journey.

The arrangements of a driver to handle the carriage, and take it back to the Baron once they reached Castle Araluen, and a comfortable resting place inside it had taken some time. They only left a little before luncheon. Crowley knew Halt chafed at that, but they had both wanted to leave sooner rather than later, so they opted for travelling some distance before stopping to eat in a nice clearing close to the road.

A basket provided substance from the castle kitchen, while nowhere near Master Cubb's level of skill, the Baron had a good cook. As he was obviously fond of his food, that did not surprise Crowley at all, but he was pleased the cook had a good head on his shoulder. The main difficulty for Gilan was he had been literally starved while he was held captive. Barely given enough to sustain him at all. Between the malnourishment and the injuries they had given him, there had been no reason to restrain him further. He had barely been able to move, escaping had certainly been far above him.

Now, he was not even aware of how hungry he was, and the idea of sitting down with a steak and a plate full of mash and vegetables was alien to him. That he only had one hand, and was too weak to hold the spoon did not make things easier. He hated the indignity of being fed as much as Halt and Crowley did.

The basket however had been quite well filled, for Halt and Crowley there were cold chicken, hand pies with mince meat and a pleasant salad full of greens and grain. For Gilan, they had found a crock of cold chicken shredded into tiny pieces. It was mixed with vegetables finely chopped, and a sauce to make it more palatable. The lad barely had to chew it at that. There had also been a smaller crock, kept cool as it was wrapped in wet sack cloth. Fruit, mashed and mixed lightly with custard.

"This doesn't look too bad," Halt sniffed the first mixture. It could probably have done with a little more spice, but at the same time, bland was easier for the boy to digest. The carriage wasn't large enough to allow him to lie down, but they had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for the injured Ranger. One well padded seat faced forward, the other backwards, and they had rigged a pallet between the two. Allowing Gilan to lie half reclined, his back supported by pillows and the carriage wall. A far cry from the specially constructed carriage that had been used to take King Duncan's ill and pregnant wife to safety long ago Crowley mused. The springs were stiff enough there was a fair bit of bouncing and jostling in the carriage. Something made very clear when Gilan cried out or tried to hide a moan. Even so, it was better than a hard wagon bed.

To spare his dignity as much as possible, they had opted to eat all of them in the carriage. They didn't want to stop long enough for a fire anyway, which meant no coffee, but there was at least cool milk to drink.

The Baron had been surprised that they asked for a flask of brandy, until Crowley had explained it was to help their comrade bear the pain.

Having put a few spoonful's of the chicken into a bowl, Halt filled his own plate. He was sitting beside his first apprentice, ill at ease as Gilan watched them silently, before turning a disinterested glance to the window.

"Come now lad, this doesn't seem too bad," he urged. "You eat this, and we'll get you back to Jenny. She'll cook for you I'm sure, but until then, this has to do." Filling the spoon he brought it to his lips, Gilan squeezing his eyes shut before he allowed Halt to slip it into his mouth.

"You need a little more strength back first, that's all," Halt told him. No longer talking about the trip back to Jenny. The lad wasn't quite able to hold a spoon yet. He needed a bit more help first. A few good meals and a few good nights rest might be enough. As the young man chewed slowly, Halt turned his attention to his own food. Having cleaned one chicken bone and done away one hand pie before Gilan allowed himself to be given another spoonful.

Crowley kept most of his focus on his own food, but he also kept a close eye on it. He was worried, just as Halt was.

"Do you want some of this?" Halt asked as he put the mostly empty bowl down, and motioned to the other crock with the fruit and custard.

"No," Gilan shook his head. "No more."

"It seems pretty good," Halt tried to tempt him. "Not on level with Master Chubb, but I don't think Baron Vahron got as fat as he is only eating out."

Crowley gave an amused snort, but Gilan shook his head. "I don't want any."

"We'll stop again to rest the horses in a bit, we can see how you feel about it then," Crowley interjected. What he had eaten was not enough, but pushing him was not a good idea. If Gilan had one flaw, it was that he often fell into a habit of not eating enough. Will, who had been teased for being short tended to think it had always been very easy for Gilan. Now, because Halt was also on the short side, the younger man tended to think that short was the better option, and the way a Ranger was supposed to be built. It was not malice, and to be fair, on average, most of the Rangers were short. They only had a few of more normal height, and very few like Gilan who tended to stand a head above them all.

Knowing why Will felt as he did, Gilan had always been gracious about it, and did nothing but grin when he bumped a tree branch Will didn't even need to worry about. He wasn't ashamed for his height, or bothered by it, but often when he was young he had faced much the same harassment Will had, for the rapid way he was growing. At one point, bad enough he had tried restricting how much he ate, thinking it would allow him to control how much he grew.

It did not make him a bad Ranger, it just made him a young man who knew he had made mistakes and used that knowledge to better understand others. He was compassionate and caring, generous and gracious. It wasn't a problem, Gilan knew how important it was, it did however mean that sometimes, just sometimes it was still hard for him. If food had been restricted for some time, if he had been unable to eat due to injury or illness.

At worst, he needed a little time to see that the food you had given him was the appropriate amount for a man his size, and at best, you would never even be able to guess it had ever been a problem. Gilan was able to see it rationally and listened to them. The difference this time was the hostile situation he had been in. It would make it more difficult for him to want to figure it out.

Even now he shied back from them at times, flinched at an unexpected touch. Knowing this Crowley caught his eye before he dropped his hand to his ankle and gave it a gentle shake. A friendly touch, to remind him what those were like. Gilan looked up at him, almost surprised at first, then he managed a weak smile. "Think I'd rather have coffee."

"You need a lot more food before we can start filling you up with coffee," Crowley gave his ankle a gentle shake again. "Pain bad?"

"No," Gilan shook his head, turning his head away from them and towards the window. Given the stiff way he was moving though Crowley would say it was bad enough.

"You could have a bit of brandy, see if you could sleep some," he mused. It was exhausting to be in pain, and the bumping and jarring wouldn't be helping his ribs any, even if they had tried to make sure he was comfortable.

Gilan was silent for a long moment, then finally he nodded. Crowley dug out the brandy, pouring a cup that he gave him. Not long after it was empty, Gilan started relaxing a little more, his head falling forward. Halt, slipped an arm around him and pulled his former apprentice closer to him. Allowing him to rest against his side, pulling the blanket better around him.

When Crowley met his eye over Gilan's slow, even breaths, his eyes were filled with pain for his apprentice. Smiling softly, Crowley tried to offer him what comfort he could.

It did not really seem like a lot.

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…