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 the story is 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…

Added Trouble

Chapter 1

Striding up to the backdoor of the castle kitchen Gilan was smiling cheerfully to himself. Not for any particular reason, he was often smiling, to his mentor's annoyance. Halt was more grumpy, his smiles were few and far between, and often only present if also was Pauline… The Baron's best courier, and the woman Halt refused to admit several of them knew he was in love with. Gilan didn't mind, he liked Pauline, he really liked her. She was elegant and beautiful, extremely kind and cheerful with a good sense of tact. She was just about perfect in every way, and certainly perfect for Halt.

He couldn't quite see why she seemed to have taken an interest in him as well, since there was so many boys at the castle, and he really didn't see why he should be so different from the rest of them. Even so, whenever she saw him, she greeted him cheerfully, exchanged a few words with him and seemed to go out of her way to be kind to him. He hadn't really figured out why, but he could not say he minded.

Now though, he was on his way back to the cabin from his sword practice at the Battleschool, by the way of the castle kitchen. He didn't normally take that way, since Halt generally wanted him to go straight back and not dally. This time though, he also wanted him to go past the kitchen and pick up a jar of preserve that he had been promised.

The Rangers did not work for the Baron, but answered directly to the King. However, they were supposed to work with the Baron, this worked better in some of the fiefs than in others. In Redmont, Gilan had a feeling it worked very well. Baron Arald and Halt considered each other friends, they respected each others position and knew that there would be times they might not fully agree. They also knew they both served the King and Kingdom, more so than probably many.

Gilan had been far too young to be fully involved when all the things went down at Gorlan. All he had known was that his father was tense, muttering about it, and that there were rumors Prince Duncan had turned rouge. He had asked to be a part of it, the Grand Melee there, as he understood that had a lot to do with it, but his father had refused on account of his age and small size. Leaving him on the sidelines, but making sure his son was armed if the worst came to worse.

Shortly after, at Hackham Heath, he had understood more, and been allowed to lend a hand. Halt had been one of the main characters in their success, and Baron Arald had certainly distinguished himself. It was perhaps typical of Gilan's character that he did not see how large part he had played in that success himself.

What he found more important was that several smaller orchards belonged to the castle, which produced apples, pears, plums and cherries. Since part of what the Rangers did was keeping after two legged vermin, such as poachers and thieves, the Baron tended to figure he could show his gratitude. Arald was a fair man, he never was all that upset about a few children stealing an apple, but he tended to get a bit testy when a band of grown men went in to strip the trees of all the fruit. It wasn't all for his personal pleasure either, preserves and bottled pears were important if they should have a hard winter after a poor harvest.

A jar of cherry preserve might not be the first thing one thought about to stave of a famine, but at that point, every single morsel was important.

Not just the people in the village, but they might be called upon to provide the army if there was more trouble. He remembered well how it had been with the restricted rations at Hackham Heath, and he hadn't enjoyed it one bit. He had been constantly hungry, even though he thought his father had sometimes given up just a little of his own share for him. He had tried to make sure he wouldn't, but at times he had been so hungry, so when he had not been certain, he had simply eaten what he was given. There had been quarrels due to the shortage of food, some of the bullies you unavoidably got with the rest trying to force their will on the weaker, and extort more food out of them.

Fortunately King Duncan was a skilled and experienced man who knew well how to keep the men in check, and he was back up by many equally skilled and efficient men. Sir David, Baron Arald, and some Gilan hadn't known quite as well.

The point was, a few jars of preserve at that time would have been heavenly, so the thought of roughneck thieves stealing it all to make a profit irritated him and he had been only too happy to spend a few chilly nights in a tree to deter them.

They didn't get a single apple, but were convicted to work hard labor during the harvest instead. Picking and collecting the very fruit they had tried to steal. Gilan figured it served them right, and the fact that it now apparently meant that he and Halt would get some of the preserve just made it all better.

He was surprised when he neared the door, and heard loud, shrill screaming from inside. Master Chubb was a formidable man for certain, he ruled his kitchen with a hot temper and a hard wooden ladle. Yet Gilan had always found him to be a fair, just and good man. He had after all gone with the Baron to Hackham Heath, to make sure the men ate as well as they were able. A man like that was someone Gilan respected, and he didn't care if they wielded spoon or sword. Perhaps it was because he showed that respect that he had never had any trouble with him at all, though many were in fear of him.

Slipping into the hot kitchen, inhaling the fragrance that seemed to make up the very air inside. The yeasty smell of hot fresh bread, the mouth watering aroma of a spit roasting over the hot coals, mutton and a haunch of boar if he was any judge. The smell accompanied by the hiss and fizzle as droplets of fat dripped from the meat to hiss and spit on the bed of coals. There was a sweater smell of pastries and tarts and he felt his stomach rub against his backbone.

Sword practice was hard work, and he eyed the tray of bread rolls as he went past them. He'd never consider liberating one though, not that he was completely too honest for it, but he knew then any bit of goodwill Master Chubb felt towards him would be over.

Instead he slipped quietly around a stand of pots to see what all the screaming was about. Several of the kitchen maids stood holding on to one another, Master Chubb stood waving his ladle at a pot on the floor. It wasn't one of the huge ones, but an ordinary sized pot that was used for any of the smaller things.

Stepping close enough that he could see into the pot, Gilan grinned as he instantly realized what all the screaming was about. In the pot, neatly coiled was a fair sized adder. Gilan had seen small ones, and large ones, and this one was certainly on the large. Fairly calm in spite of all the screaming and stomping around it.

"You there, can you get rid of that damnable thing?" Master Chubb demanded as he spotted the apprentice.

"Sure," Gilan shrugged as he stepped closer. "I can get it out of here, if that's alright. Don't think I have to kill it, if you don't really want me to?"

"Get rid of it, kill it, do whatever you want with it," Master Chubb declared. "You get rid of it, and I'll make sure you get a whole turkey pie all to yourself…"

Gilan's mouth fell open slightly at that, that would be a rare honor, and one he would leap at. Of course he knew it would be a small one, not the large ones that went on the Baron's table, but the turkey pie was one of the things Master Chubb was most famous for, if he offered a pie, only a fool wouldn't take him up on it.

Of course, Gilan also knew that the moment Halt caught whiff of that pie, he'd be lucky if he got to keep half of it….

It didn't matter, with a wide smile he simply strode forward, slowly and cautiously. The snake was after all one that carried venom, and it was more than likely capable of getting out of the pot if it wanted to. After all, it had found some way to get into it…. Approaching it, he was glad that Master Chubb drove the others back, and he eased himself down a bit. There had been quite a few adders back in Caraway when he was a boy, and he had learnt the knack for getting them without being bit. It was best to keep it calm, so as he grasped it, he allowed it to slide partially back into the pot before he re-adjusted his grip.

The snake was surprisingly calm, and so he was soon able to hold a firm grip right behind the head. Master Chubb gave an approving nod as he watched him.

"Get it far away from here, you hear that? Far away, and when you come back, you'll have the pie…" he stated.

"Thank you," Gilan beamed as he made his way towards the door. "I'll have to come back later, I was really coming for the preserve Halt was promised."

"It'll be waiting for you then," Chubb stated, then he turned back to his staff. "Get moving the lot of you, don't let the boar burn or it'll be more than you're worth. And wash that pot, wash it good," he urged as Gilan slipped out the door.

Halt would be expecting him back, but he wouldn't mind that he had helped out. He would expect Gilan to do that, for the reward of a pie or not, but Halt certainly wouldn't mind the pie he knew. He really hoped that he got to enjoy at least half of it…

He knew most people would have killed the snake, but he also knew a lot of them didn't know how to kill it, and quite a few got bit trying… Sure, he could cut the head off with his sword, but there was no need for it. Adders kept after the toads, newts, mice and other vermin in the woods. He had no trouble at all killing a rabbit for dinner, or a boar that was threatening the safety of the villagers and the farmers, but he did rather disapprove of killing for sport.

It was the easiest thing in the world to take the adder some distance away from the castle and set it free. It was highly unlikely it would get back inside to bother anyone.

The snake did seem to get a bit restless, so rather than risk annoying it he set it down on the grass not far from the road. Frowning over the way it acted. He had expected it to just slither off, instead it coiled itself partially up, and acted very weird…

Frowning, he crouched down a few feet away to watch it, his mouth falling open when he saw the first baby snake appear. It was a female, and it was having a litter…

He'd seen cows, horses and pigs give birth before, but never a snake, so scooting back a little he sat on his haunches to watch.

When they came out, they looked all tangled up in themselves, and it took him a second to realize they were all enclosed in a tiny, transparent sack. It did not take them long to break through it though, even if some was faster than others, and one seemed to have already freed himself while inside the mother.

There were twenty of them, tiny little adders that all tumbled around each other close by the mother. He was so intent on watching them, the way they were all over and around each other that he did not notice the footsteps at first.

Seeing someone come he rose to give warning, only to hear a startled gasp.

He had forgotten that with his cloak, he would have been almost invisible against the bushes.

It was the weaver's boy, and Gilan frowned. The youth was about two, or three years older than he was himself, and he was a bully. It wasn't that surprising, since the weaver wasn't the most kind and generous man himself, but Gilan really disliked his son. He was a coward, which made him the worst kind of bully.

"What are you doing here, you witch!" the boy cried. He came closer, and finally saw the snakes, giving a gasp as he watched the myriad of infant snakes. "You're conjuring up snakes! I know what your Rangers do with your dark magic, you're going to set the snakes on the village!"

"Don't be an idiot," he sighed though he felt it was a forlorn hope to wish for any form of intelligence from the other boy. "It's a female, she just gave birth. Just leave them alone, they won't bother you."

Back in Caraway one of the older soldiers had told him he had once seen an adder with a litter of young. The babies would follow the mother around for a few days he claimed, which Gilan had thought sounded extremely exciting. Now was his chance to find out if it was true. He had discovered that sometimes those old men liked to stretch the truth a little, particularly if they could confuse the boys running around the castle.

At least the idiot had stopped yelling about witches and dark magic, but he was looking at the snakes with a cruel smile on his face. "You're going to use your dark magic to bewitch them!" he accused and Gilan sighed. So much for hoping the fool would leave it well enough alone. The mother seemed to have tolerated Gilan's presence well enough, but as the other boy approached she hissed in warning.

"Step back, don't bother her, she's not doing any harm," Gilan told him. "She'll move off and they'll go with her."

"You're going to use your dark magic on them, I know it, but I'll stop you!" the weaver's boy cried, and rushing forward he stomped down on the first infant snake to try and kill it.

"Don't do that you idiot!" Gilan snapped. He had never credited the youth with a lot of intelligence, and now he felt himself fully justified in doing so. Not only for the fact that he wanted to cruelly kill when there was no need, but anyone who tried to stomp a snake to death wearing sandals was a complete idiot!

His foot came down on the very tail of the young snake, and the head was much faster as it whipped around.

The boy screamed, leaping back and lifting his foot to clutch at it as he screamed.

"Stop doing that!" Gilan snapped, but it was no use, the boy was in pain and heedless of any sound advice. Since he hadn't listened before he got bit, Gilan didn't have any real hope of making him listening now. Truthfully he didn't really feel the least bit sorry for him, but he would rather he didn't make the situation worse, so he tried to grab him. His intention to get him away from the snakes, and send him on his way.

"You did this! You made it bite me! You did this, you witch!"

"Witches are generally female, you know," Gilan snorted. "And it was your own fault. Just get out of here. You'll be fine if you stop acting like an idiot!"

The mother was furious, and he took one step to the side himself to get out of her way. The weaver's boy did not. He was too busy hurling verbal abuse at Gilan, and then tried to hit him. Gilan simply stepped out of the way, but since the boy was standing on only one leg, it caused him to overbalance and fall, the mother dealing her own retribution for the way he had acted.

As he gave a shrill scream the boy scrambled back, coming to his feet, tears streaming down his face as he clutched at his rear with both hands. "I'll get you for this! I'll tell them what you did! You'll hang for this!" he cried and Gilan snorted in disdain.

"It's your own damn fault," he glared at him.

The boy wasn't done though, and this time as he brought his foot down, he hit the mother square on the head, crushing it.

"You'll pay for this, you'll hang!" he cried as he whimpered, his hands still cradling his rear. "You'll pay for it, just you wait, you witch!"

Whimpering he made his way back towards the village, and Gilan sighed. The mother adder was dead, the head was crushed, and it angered him that the idiot would be so cruel for no reason. He wasn't worried about what would happen, no doubt the boy would tell someone, and his father might very well decide to go after Gilan. He wouldn't get far though, Gilan's word held merit with the Baron, and with Halt, and if he told them how the events had unfolded, there was no way they would do anything to him. It was just that it was so stupid and needless that angered him. He should have punched the idiot in the nose, but knowing how painful adder bites were, if not really all that dangerous, was some satisfaction. He sure wouldn't enjoy sitting down for a bit, that was a fact, and one that Gilan contemplated with some measure of satisfaction.

There was also nothing he could do about the baby snakes, there was no way he could move twenty infant snakes unless he had a basket or something to take them in, so he would just have to hope they managed on their own.

Shoulders slightly slumped he started on his way towards the cabin.

Halt didn't much care for the idiot he knew, so he wouldn't give him any trouble, but he needed to go tell him, and they probably would have to go to the Baron and explain what had happened. On one side, they could get the preserve and the pie while they were at it, but on the down side, Halt was quite likely to declare his right to the larger share of the pie as compensation for the grief Gilan had caused him.

With this weighing heavily on his mind it was some time before he realized something moved behind him, looking over his shoulder he saw twenty infant adders come slithering, tumbling and crawling over the moss behind him…

They were following him…

He stopped, chewing his thumbnail, and they moved forward to slither around his feet, none of them hissed or made the slightest threatening motion.

Intrigued, he bent down to touch one, knowing he was taking a very foolish risk but too curious to refrain. The snake allowed the touch without the slightest hesitation.

"You guys really do follow your mam around, don't you?" he gave a low whistle. "Please don't tell me you've decided I'm your mam?"

Geese followed their mother, and they decided the mother was the first one they saw when they hatched. He knew farmers put rags on poles by the eggs when they would hatch, so the ducklings would imprint on the rag, and would follow it. Thereby making it possible to lead them to one place or another, by simply picking up the pole and the rag. It would seem, the snakes behaved much the same way.

He ran a few steps to one side, watching as they followed after him, running a little further to the other side, with the same result…

"Halt's going to kill me…."

TBC

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