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 5

Though he had some left of the food from the kitchen Gilan found he felt like he could actually feel Halt scowling at him. He'd been eating the food for two full days, and had a quite nice breakfast of the last of the duck. There was a bit ham left, and the sausage, but that would keep. He might even save it for when Halt got back, and he could enjoy it as well.

When he went to return the shirt, and get his own after sword practice he had been offered more food, but he had declined. For one thing, he really had been looking forward to that fish. With the line in his pocket, and his bow in his hand he made his way towards the river same as before. It was just before midday and he could see dozen of rings on the surface of the water where the fish came to catch bugs.

For a moment he was tempted to use the bow, but it was tricky and he was worried about missing and losing an arrow. Instead he looked around the bushes until he found a big fat bug that he baited the hook with. Throwing it in while he moved to practice with his throwing knife. This time, he used mostly his left hand. He liked to alternate hands, Halt didn't, but MacNeil had made sure that Gilan learned to use his sword almost as well with his left as with his right. If he was ever wounded in the sword arm, he could switch hand. Also, it would put him at an advantage if he faced someone with a shield, or wanted to fight someone while going up the castle stairs. Most of them were built so as to impede a right handed swordsman. Since Gilan could switch hand, he would have an advantage. He figured if it was a good idea with swords, it was probably a good idea with knives as well.

Just like he had done last time he cleaned out the fish where he was and threaded it up on a string before starting on his way back. This time he kept a very close eye on the road in front of him. Whenever he saw someone ahead of him he slipped into the woods, remaining unseen until they had passed. It was not only paranoia, but a way to practice unseen movements at the same time.

He thought he was doing well, until something hard hit him in the back of the head, causing him to stumble. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and before he had shaken them he realized he had made a tactical error. He had kept almost all his attention on the road in front of him, not much behind him. Having been just passed by a farmer driving a cart after a heavy plough horse he had not heard the three bullies approach from behind.

Before he had time to do anything, he had a sword pointed at him, and had he been able to do so, he would have kicked himself for his stupidity.

"Well, well, the poacher again, having been at it have you," the oldest of the three leered as he held the sword pointed at him.

"The son of a knight without any honour at all is really about as low as you can get," Gilan glowered at them. "You're supposed to be upholding right and justice in the kingdom. Being born of a knight should mean you saw your duty more than your privilege."

"The peasant poacher sure does talk fancy!" the youngest laughed.

"You don't know anything about what it means to be the son of a knight," the oldest, with the sword snorted.

"My father is a knight, and he would be ashamed of you," Gilan glared. He felt his temper rising though he knew it was a bad idea to give in to it. In the dust of the road lay a fist sized stone, and he had a headache that seemed just a match for it. "If he had you at his Battleschool, neither one of you would even be able to lift a sword after the punishment he set you to."

"You want me to believe the son of a knight would walk around like that?" the youngest laughed. "Like a poacher. You didn't even have enough money to get a cloak of all one colour. Now, give us the fish, we know you stole it, we'll see it comes to right."

"The last ones were really fine, real tasty," the middle one snatched the two fishes he had been carrying. "Our father was real pleased with the catch, so delighted when we gave them to him. He'll be just as glad for this."

"He sure will," the one with the sword grinned. "Cut his bowstring, a poacher like him would shoot us in the back."

"Unlike you, I've got honour," Gilan seethed as one took a knife and cut the string of his bow. It had not even been strung. "Why don't you put down that toothpick, and let's have a fair fight?" He didn't want to cause trouble for the Baron, but by now he was furious.

"Hah, everyone knows peasants doesn't fight fair," the youngest laughed.

"We'll give you a fair fight," dropping the sword for a moment, the oldest punched him hard in the belly, and as he doubled over, dealt a hard kick to his arm. He must have hit a nerve, for Gilan felt the limb going numb, before he was forcefully shoved aside, thrown into the ditch by the bully who was at least twice his weight.

There was no sense in reporting it to the Baron he mused as he climbed back to his feet, watching them disappear in the distance. Baron Arald was already aware of them, and would have acted if at all possible. He was furious, at them for being such cowardly bullies and at himself for not thinking they might be behind him. Well, that was a mistake he would not make again. Reaching one hand to the back of the head he gingerly felt the goose egg at the back of his head. It was tender, and his head ached, but it was not as bad as it might have been.

He'd have to have some of that leftover ham for lunch anyway, which wasn't bad he mused as he took a spare bowstring from his pocket. He always carried a couple of them on him, as any Ranger did. If it got damp, they might stretch, as they also might if overused. It had been about time he made a couple of new ones anyway. A perfect task to do in the cabin just before he went to bed.

Gritting his teeth and glaring the way the three had disappeared in he started for the cabin, wondering how long they would be staying around. Their kind really made him furious. When he was young he had been proud to be the son of a knight, to know that his father served the kingdom and its people. He had been proud to know he fought for the king, and he had been horrified that anyone would act as Morgarath had. That anyone could be so vile and treacherous. He would never forget the tournament at Gorlan and what had transpired there. His father had acted a bit strange, more stiffly than he was used to, and had ordered him to remain close, and keep himself armed. Not letting him roam around the tournament ground as he was used to.

Of course as he found out what had been happening at the same time he understood what and had been immensely proud that his father had worked with them to help Prince Duncan to reclaim his rightful crown. He had been annoyed he was too young to help, but not really surprised. His father hadn't been involved at the start either. Though he had been in the Melee and had claimed he noticed there was something going on in it. Gilan himself had noticed how strained the tension had been at the tournament, and had mostly been annoyed everyone thought he was too young to know what was going on. At the time his father had already taken him along at times to deal with various minor threats. Bandits, poachers boars and such things that the knights were called in to deal with every now and again.

After Hackham Heath, he was along even more, he knew how important it was that the farmers and the villagers could count on the knights. It was bad enough if a boar destroyed crops, but if they were left unchecked they could even kill the farmer. A man who certainly wasn't trained to deal with something like that, as the knights were. Bandits and highway men needed to be stopped, and it was a knights job to do so. He'd been there when he was with his father, seeing the wreckage they left behind. How ruthless some of them could be, killing if the poor folk weren't quick enough in giving up what little valuables they had.

It really made him furious that someone who should be protecting them would exploit them instead. He could shrug off a lot of things, including what they did to him, but not that, not someone like that acting with no honour at all….

No, if they acted so despicably, he would be glad to see them taught a lesson for it. He was not certain how to manage it, but he was determined to do his best if he got the chance.

He might have to be sneaky about it, but sneaky was what Rangers were good at….

Satisfied for the time being he continued on his way back to the cabin.

TBC

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