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…

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 1

Halt paused in his preparations, as a Ranger he was used to moving fast and efficiently, which meant he was mostly always ready to go. Even so, when he knew he would be away from his fief for a whole three weeks, there were a few preparations he needed to make. His bedroll and camping gear stood by the door, his longbow propped against the wall and there was a full quiver of arrows. The cabin was nice and tidy, the floor was swept, the kitchen area spotless and there were fresh wildflowers in a small vase on the mantlepiece. He had informed the Baron he would be away, which left only one small matter to make sure he would not come back to an unprecipitated mess…

….tie up his apprentice to make sure he did not cause any disasters while Halt was away.

Said apprentice was currently seated at the table looking the perfect picture of innocence. He had a map in front of him, several blank sheaves of paper, a piece of graphite and an apple. Halt had given him the latter in the hope he'd fill out some, but as engrossed as he was in his task it seemed completely forgotten. No doubt he wouldn't remember what it was for, and then give it to Blaze who already got far too many of the treats.

Rather much like Abelard if he was honest. Crossing his arms over his chest he pondered the situation. Normally he would not have thought twice about leaving for a mere few weeks. He had to do that occasionally, but then he had not had Gilan before. The boy had a way of causing havoc if he meant to or not. He had far too much energy. More than one boy needed, more than ten boys needed or so Halt felt. He took his training very serious which was one good thing about him. Halt never had to tell him to do something more than once, and sometimes not even that. Once he was on the clear which part of the house chores were his, which was just about all of them, he did them without being asked.

Battleschool had no doubt been strict, and he never even would think about shirking off. On occasion he would ask if he might postpone one task, and then he would state his reasons. Often a perfectly reasonable one. Already Halt had found he tended to trust him when he asked for some leeway and did not always demand to know the reason.

In general, Gilan was devoted, compassionate and hard working, though his abundance of energy got the better of his sometimes, and three weeks without any real supervision was a lot of opportunity for that to happen. He would make an excellent Ranger one day, Halt was certain of it, if he survived his own impulsiveness that long.

There was also the matter of food, they had not done much more than brushed over the subject of cooking, part of the reason being that Halt liked to eat and Gilan had no natural aptitude for it. When Halt left his home and met Pritchard, he had not known more about it than Gilan did, but he had quickly found he rather enjoyed eating well and did not mind the process of ensuring it. Gilan was the same way, but though he tried as hard as he could, it simply wasn't his skill. He tended to forget himself and burn the meat, overestimate or underestimate the amount of salt and pepper needed. Halt had decided it was better to go slow with him, slow and steady. He'd put him to do the washing and peeling of the vegetables, make the camp bread and oversee something under Halt's watchful eye.

Minding a pot of potatoes with someone close by was a lot different from making the whole meal by yourself though, and Gilan hadn't been training so long it was expected of him to master it. All apprentices had to pass a cooking test as well as a lot of other things, in their third year there would be a three month cooking course. Because it rather was something that was important they at least knew the basics of.

Hoping not to be the sole cook for the three years prior this though, Halt had started right away, and was glad for it. Gilan really did try, and his effort was amendable, but he needed more time for it than some others.

"Gilan," at his name, the boy looked up, his fingers stained with graphite and a grin on his face.

"About ready to leave?" he asked as he leaned back in his seat.

"If I could be certain the place would still be standing when I came back I would be," he snorted and Gilan gave him a hurt look, which was somewhat spoiled by the reappearance of the grin.

"I've already promised I'll keep up my training, though I'll focus on the bits where I don't need you as much," he mused. "And I've promised to be on my best behavior. You'll only be gone for a couple of days…"

"Three weeks, and that's what worries me," Halt shook his head. "You only have food for about two days." He had made some leftovers that would last him that long. After that though, anything he could have made would have spoiled.

"I'll manage, I used to when I was little and went exploring," he shrugged.

"You didn't cook much then, you had food with you from the kitchen," Halt reminded him. He knew as much from David. The kitchens at Caraway had kept him supplied with things that wouldn't spoil. The boy had lived mostly on bread cheese and such things.

Now there was a brief look of hurt flashing over his face before it was gone. "I'll stick to what I know, I won't get in over my head," he shrugged. "It might not be all that good, but I won't starve and I won't burn the cabin down. I won't leave anything on the stove unattended."

Halt nodded, it was probably the best he could hope for. "If you need anything, you can go up to the Castle. Arald knows you'll be here alone, he'll keep an eye on things so you won't have to worry much about that. I don't want you trying to handle anything on your own. If anyone comes wanting help, and it's anything more dangerous than a cat stuck in a tree, you go up to the castle and let Baron Arald know. You should have most of what you need, but you can get some bread from the castle kitchen. If, and only if, the Baron invites you, you may eat up there a couple of times. But that's not to get out of doing your own cooking," he cautioned. "I don't want to come back and hear about you having been up there stuffing yourself every meal. You need to learn to fend for yourself as much as you need to learn anything else."

"I know," Gilan was grinning again. "I might not like living on my own food, but I've done it before, and it hasn't killed me yet."

"It had better not now either, I'm not explaining to your father how you poisoned yourself…"

"I'll keep that in mind," Gilan replied dryly, then he shone up. "Though when you get back, you will cook something, right? After nearly three weeks of my own cooking, I will really be looking forward to that."

"Make sure to keep up your training, keep this place tidy, and don't do anything stupid and I will," Halt promised. It wasn't as if he wouldn't do it anyway and they both knew it.

"Of course I will," Gilan tried to look affronted but couldn't help smiling. "Though if you don't mind, I'd like to go over to the Battleschool a little more than usual. I don't mind practicing archery on my own, but if there's no one to spot me when I do the unseen movements, I won't know if I do it right or not. Sir Wallace has said I can come by for extra lessons whenever I have the time, I think now would be a good time for it."

"Alright, I suppose you might," he agreed. It was a reasonable request. Sir Rodney who was in charge of the Battleschool and Sir Wallace who was the sword master both seemed to think Gilan was the best they had ever seen. His father was a knight who had thought his son would follow in his footsteps and had trained him from an early age. Gilan liked it, and was good, there was no doubt about that. He enjoyed the training enough he did not mind it gave him extra work compared to most apprentices, so Halt had certainly not seen any reason to stop him. "And don't worry about the cooking, keep it simple, stick with what you know."

"I thought maybe I'd try to get my hands on a fish," Gilan grinned. "I can't grill them in a pit with coal like you do, but I used to grill them on a stick when I was little."

"That would be fine, as long as you don't spend all day trying to get the fish," Halt knew very well he did not intend to get it from the market or the castle kitchen. For someone who had such a hard time to sit still, the lad did not mind fishing. He seemed to even enjoy it from time to time, and it would serve to keep him out of trouble.

"I'll see you in a few weeks," he decided as he picked up his gear. There was nothing left to do but leave. No further instructions to give, no warnings or reprimands. Gilan knew what was expected of him.

Though now he watched the grin falter a little on his face, it was not so strange. It was one thing for a boy to look forward to being on his own for three weeks. It was another thing to have it actually happening. His apprentice had grown up to be fairly independent. Halt had met him at Hackham Heath when he was twelve and his father, Sir David, had informed them his son knew the country better than anyone. He knew about the ford that Halt led the cavalry over, as he had spent most of his child hood exploring it. Hardly more than a child he had gone riding out, camping and coming back one or two days later. He knew the area well enough, and Halt had been impressed by his skill.

He certainly could fend for himself, but it was different to be a seven year old boy alone in the woods, and being a Ranger Apprentice who's help someone might seek. Back then, his only responsibility had been to come back alive. While not everyone would have allowed a child of that age to roam the countryside freely as they pleased, Halt had a feeling that David had done so in order to make sure the castle kept standing.

It could not have been easy to be the sole guardian of such a hyperactive child, having been told Gilan was nowadays much calmer and more patient he shuddered at the thought of the six year old version of the boy.

He knew there had been several incidents involving an overly bored and overly active boy, and could only hope none of them would resurface now.

Gilan had followed him out on the porch, looking perfectly well at ease and confident, and Halt found himself turning around again.

"If I come back and find the cabin leveled to the ground, you'll be building it up again with your bare hands," he cautioned, then paused. "And that goes for the castle too…"

"I think that's a little over even my ability, but I appreciate the vote of confidence," Gilan gave him a cheeky grin. "I have been on my own before you know…."

"Yes, but then you were out away from anything breakable, like a stone keep…" Halt told him dryly.

"I still think that's a little over even my ability," Gilan shrugged as he stepped over to Abelard in the yard. Reaching into his pocket he fished out an apple that he gave to the eager horse.

"And stop spoiling my horse," Halt did not even turn around as he was fastening his bedroll to his saddle.

"Poor thing has to put up with you all the way to Castle Araluen, he deserves it," Gilan grinned, ducking out of the way.

Well, there was some truth in that Halt mused, given that he probably wouldn't be in the best mood having had to leave his apprentice behind. He could have brought Gilan, but there would be nothing for the boy to do when he arrived, and he had training to focus on. Leaving him made more sense. He just wished it didn't fill him with such a feeling of impeding doom…

Well, there was no helping it, everything was ready, and there were only so many times he could threaten the boy into submission. Sighing, he put his foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle.

For all his excessive energy and exuberant cheerful nature, the boy had a good head on his shoulders and would not knowingly cause trouble. He respected Halt and he respected Baron Arald, not to mention that he was utterly devoted to both sir Rodney and Sir Wallace of the Battleschool. If there was one thing Halt knew, it was that Gilan would never willingly disappoint either one of them. Even so, he was glad that he had asked Pauline to check up on him once or twice.

Chances were, he mused as he nudged Abelard with his heels, that Gilan would be so scared of doing the wrong thing, he hardly did anything. If he got too nervous about cooking his own meals, he might very well try to stick to a diet of bread and coffee the whole time. That was not what Halt wanted. He would rather come back to a slightly scorched cabin as long as the boy actually tried.

Perhaps, he mused as they started on down the road, he had been a little too hard on him.

You know you are, no maybe about it…

"Who asked you?" he half glared at the horse. "You're just saying that because he spoils you as bad as he spoils Blaze.

Just because he's smart enough to give me apples, doesn't mean I'm wrong. Abelard gave a snort. You're scared of making a mistake, and therefor you're too hard on him because you think that will keep him safe.

"Maybe it will."

Or, he starts thinking that it does not matter what he does, since he'll never be good enough anyway…

There were times when Halt wondered if it was a good idea to talk to his horse, Crowley said all of them did it, but the horse had a very annoying habit of being very blunt, and very right. He was keenly aware of the fact he was responsible for the boy. That if anything happened to him, David, a man he counted as one of his closest friends, would have lost his only son.

Perhaps he was sometimes even a little too keenly aware of it. Gilan was a sensible lad, skilled with the sword and with enough experience to know to take his training serious. Sometimes too serious. If anything happened, it would not be because the boy had made light of things and thought he could slack off.

Rather, it would be because he tried far too hard to please Halt…

TBC

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