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 41
"Well, that explains a great deal," Crowley mused as they had gathered in the sitting room of Halt and Paulines small apartment.
"How did you know?" David hadn't said a lot since they left his son in the bedroom. Gilan had been utterly exhausted, falling into a deep slumber even as Halt held him, tough at first the grizzled Ranger had refused to let him go. Such a storm of emotions would have exhausted anyone Crowley mused, as he gently convinced his friend to leave him and let him rest.
"I wasn't sure," he shrugged. "It was just the way he acted, as if he was waiting for something, every time we tried to get him to eat. He seemed to expect something. I suppose that by now, getting food without having to beg for it felt wrong."
"How did you figure out it was connected to Will?" Halt had been standing by the hearth, staring into the coals, but now he glanced at his oldest friend.
"What guilt Gilan carries, usually is connected to Will and Skandia," Crowley made a face. "He really hasn't been able to put that behind him fully, or at all. I suppose that's one reason why he's adopted your habit of always trying to protect Will no matter if it's needed or not. He still feels responsible for it, and at this point, I don't think we can make him stop."
"So what do you propose, we let my son starve?" David glared at him.
"Hardly," Crowley snorted. He didn't get annoyed by the sharp tone. David had every right to be a bit short tempered considering the circumstances.
"He needs to see that it was not his fault, and that what they told him was all lies," Pauline decided. "He feels guilty because he gave in and did what they wanted him to."
"Anyone would have," David shrugged.
"I doubt either one of us would have done much better," Duncan agreed. "When you get beaten like that, and starved, it really doesn't take as long as you think. There isn't one of us who wouldn't have wound up begging for food."
"That is true," Pauline agreed. "But it wasn't either one of us who wound up doing it, it was Gilan. And right now he thinks he's the only one, he has been made to think he's the only one weak enough to give in. You can't just tell him that's not true once, and think that's all it'll takes."
"So we do it as many times as it takes," Duncan shrugged. "I saw that boy go up against Wargals when he was twelve. I won't believe this will break him."
"It won't," Halt stated firmly. "He's stronger than that, but sometimes he does take things really hard. Always has. He really impressed me back then," he mused, turned to David. "I didn't think a boy that age could accept the seriousness of the situation. But he really did, and he knew what he was doing."
"Not that I think I can take any credit for it," David sighed. "He was so wild and reckless I put him in training, it was the only thing I could think to do with him. Seemed to work though, boy was twice as bad when he was free, but he learned to temper it some when he needed."
"He's done well," Duncan smiled, clasping his friend's shoulder.
"Knowing exactly what the problem is, makes it a lot easier to deal with," Pauline stated. "and right now, the problem is he's exhausted. I can only imagine how much this has worn on him. Trying to fight how he feels, he knows it's not right. He just doesn't know what to do about it, and it's certainly not something that a man really can fight alone. No matter how good he is." She turned to David, putting a gentle hand on the Battlemaster's arm. "He doesn't sleep easy, those nightmares won't let him rest for long. Why don't you stay with him, he'll sleep better for knowing you're near."
David nodded slowly, glancing to Halt. A part of him wanted to object, that it was Halt he needed to rest. It certainly felt as if they were closer, but he was not a petty man and he knew it was in parts his own fault. He had done the best he knew how with the boy, but he was raised to always put duty first, the same as he had raised Gilan. He loved the boy, with all his heart, and Gilan knew it. He also knew his son loved him, even if he did not show it as he did with Halt.
He stood, and walked into the small bedroom. Gilan was already tossing on the bed. Mumbling quietly under his breath and David pulled the chair closer to the bed before he sat down. There had been times when he stayed with his son when he was young. Not as much as he would have wanted, he had not always been there. Of course, as Gilan had been only nine when he started his official training, David hadn't put him to live in the barracks. He did not want to put a nine year old with fifteen year olds. It would not have been a good idea. Though by the time he was thirteen he was living there most of the time.
The boy had always been free to roam the countryside, more so than most his age, because David hadn't had much time to spend with him. Letting the boy go free as he pleased seemed the best option. As restless as he was, there was no keeping him coped up. He'd suffer through the lessons as was required because he understood the necessity, and then once in a while the school master would have a very firm word with David about what his son had got up to.
Well, if the man could not keep the boy from climbing the rafters of the room, going from them out the window and free scaling the wall down, how did he expect David to put an end to it? Those times when he wished it, Gilan had an endless number of ways to escape the confines of the school room. David was sure he still only knew half of them.
Smiling softly he brushed back a lock of his hair from his forehead, Pauline was right, it needed to be trimmed, something she seemed to be of a mind to do herself. "Probably a better idea to let her, I think that's what you'd rather at the moment," he mused. "She loves you, and I imagine you know that." His son stilled somewhat at his touch, and he found himself smiling softly.
"It was never what I wished for you, I wanted you to have a mother, I missed her to. I loved her, deeply, even if we did not have that long together. She was a brave woman, and a strong one. You take after her as much as you take after me I think, she had a marvellous sense of humour. And she was smart, I know I never talked that much about her, the hurt was too fresh for a long time. She was generous, she'd be so happy that Pauline is keeping an eye on you. A boy needs that sometimes…" At the sound of his voice, and the touch of his hand, his son lay more quiet, resting easier, and he smiled to himself. "It was never what I wanted for you, I did the best I could, even if I sometimes wondered myself at what I was doing. I only knew no other way, but it would seem all is not lost. You were always a brave boy, and even if I wasn't the best father, at least you still have love for me I think. You got her heart, more so than mine, and that I think is your good fortune."
If his son could find any comfort in his voice, then he knew there was love between them and not just the bond of family. He had always known that, but sometimes when he watched how much more open Halt was with it he wondered if he had failed his son. When the boy came into their camp so exhausted he could barely stand, it was Halt who had seen to him. He had stayed with him as he just about collapsed from exhaustion, while David had been busy with his duties. It was Halt who hoovered over him when he came tearing into the command tent again some hours later, half dressed, in such a state as if the devil himself was at his heels. Because he had recalled that Duncan said his daughter's maid had red hair, and the girl they had met had blonde hair.
David had chided him, because he came rushing before the King, only half dressed, and that in a state of disarray. Given his reason, it had been excusable, though it would not really have mattered much if he had taken two minutes to dress. That was Gilan though, he never could take two minutes, he always needed to be in a rush, and if he had been given half the chance, he would have wore out his sword instructor as well…
A couple of them had despaired of his incessant need to always be running about. Had it not been for that, he might have been able to ask MacNeil to train him even earlier. He had the talent for it, if not the discipline. Though when David had cautiously tried to warn his old instructor about his son's more disastrous traits, his old friend had just laughed.
'Let me have him a few hours, and you'll see he's too worn out to want to run anywhere but to bed,' he had smiled.
It hadn't quite been the truth, but the boy had been somewhat calmer which had been a relief for David. More than anything, MacNeil taught him discipline, with the sword and with his abundance of energy. Gilan learned when he could cut loose, and when he needed to curb his desire. If someone angered him, he could be damned devious and didn't shy any effort to get back at them. He wasn't cruel or vindictive, he just had a very strong moral code and a vivid imagination. The combination was interesting to say the least.
"Sure got a lot more boring when you took off after Halt," he mused. "Not that I begrudge you, it was the right thing for you. Didn't leave much for me to do though, even if it was somewhat nice not to have to listen to complaints about my son free climbing the towers and playing havoc at all times of day and night."
"Didn't climb it that often," Gilan's sleepy mumble surprised him.
"I didn't know you were awake," he mused. "I was hoping you'd get some good rest."
"Can't sleep much, too sore," Gilan sighed. "And I get dreams."
"Well, try to sleep some more," David urged, brushing a hand over his cheek. "I think you need it."
"Too sore," Gilan tried to shift, biting back a groan. His back was getting sore and stiff from not really being able to move any. It seemed to bring on the nightmares twice as bad.
"Hang on a second, I'll get you some of that tea," squeezing his shoulder gently, David stood. In the other room, he filled a mug halfway with the herbal tea. Hoping it would at least be good enough to allow his son some rest. Less effective than other pain relievers it still did at least some good.
"Put just a dash of brandy in that and it'll be more effective," Halt didn't even look up from the book he was reading as he spoke.
"Thanks, picking up the bottle, David added a healthy drop to the tea and swirled it around in the mug to mix it. At least the fragrance was rather pleasing. Gilan was still unable to hold the mug for himself, but as David held it to his lips, he drank the liquid. A little spilled as he broke out coughing, but most of it he took and David put the empty mug down on the table.
"There, that should help," he mused.
"Hope so," Gilan mumbled, closing his eyes, he couldn't help trying to shift again, though it still caused the pain to flare up.
"Try to relax and let it work," moving out of the chair David sat on the edge of the bed instead. Gently rubbing his neck, a soft smiling coming over his lips as his son turned into his touch. There were times he felt like he had failed the boy, and wondered if his son knew that he did after all love him. He had after all never really known how to show it, the boy was amazing though. Given everything, he still seemed to trust his father unquestioningly.
"I guess that I did something right, or I'm just very lucky to have you for a son," he mumbled as the boy's breathing had evened out softly into sleep.
TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…
