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…

Chapter 3

Entering the cabin, Gilan closed the door very carefully behind him, making sure it fit snuggly against the frame. Shuffling over to the table, he put a large clay jar of preserve on it.

"Don't tell me, you still got them with you," Halt sighed. The boy had been gone longer than he expected, to the point where he had started to worry.

"I ran for two miles, I figured they wouldn't be able to keep up, and they couldn't quite, but they're apparently very good at following someone's scent, and very determined." Shrugging, Gilan bit his lip. "I'd have to kill them to get really rid of them, and at this point, it just wouldn't be fair. They trust me, I can't use that against them, it'd be dishonest."

"That's that knights training again," Halt sighed. "Oh well, I imagine it's only for tonight, just make sure they stay outside, got it?"

"Well," Gilan turned to look at the closed door, pushing lightly against it. "I don't really see how they could get in…"

"I suppose that will have to do," Halt gave a wry smile. "While you were gone, I had a visit, from Weaver Hambly…"

"Oh," Gilan tilted his head slightly to the side.

"He wanted you hounded out of the Fief, because you bewitched about a hundred snakes to attack his precious angel, to hear him tell it. He's been trying to stir up some trouble in the village. Tried to rally a bunch of the villagers to come after you."

"I did manage to get in and tell Baron Arald," Gilan bit his lip.

"Which is one reason why Hambly is spending the night in the Baron's cellar," Halt declared. Something that had put him in quite the good mood to hear.

"But all that's in the cellar is the wine and things and the prison cells," Gilan frowned. "Oh," realization dawned on him. "The Baron locked him up?"

"For the night anyway, the idea is to see if he's cooled off tomorrow," Halt imagined he would. The man was a brute and a bully, but he was also a coward. He wouldn't much like spending the night in the dungeon where it was dark, dank and dirty. "He didn't really manage rallying anyone either. Except old Laveney."

"Old Laveney don't even know what day it is," Gilan frowned. The man was an old withered drunk who hadn't spent a day sober for the last ten years.

"Which would be the point I'm trying to make, no one believes him," Halt shrugged. "Even so, it might not be a good idea for you to go strolling through the village with two dozen snakes on your heels… Hambly might be a bully and a loudmouth, and Laveney might be a drunk, but if too many of them see you with those damned things, they will start thinking there might be some truth in it."

"I thought we were supposed to have a reputation of black magic…" Gilan mused.

"It's helpful sometimes, but that doesn't mean you have to overdo it," Halt gave him a resigned look.

"Well, I hadn't planned on doing it anyway, I'll just stick to archery and unseen movements," Gilan shrugged. "Maybe I can teach them to hunt," he paused. "Do you have to teach them to hunt, or do they know it by themselves?"

"How should I know?" Halt glowered.

"Well, if the mother is supposed to teach them, I've got a problem," Gilan mused. More than one, he hadn't eaten since that morning, and he wasn't sure if he dared to ask for dinner, or if he was supposed to just suffer through the night. Halt might very well say it was training for later on. Gilan was perfectly aware there would come times when he was hungry, thirsty, wet and tiered. He had known that all along, but that didn't mean he was in a hurry about it.

Halt sighed, looking at the boy, Gilan had a way of looking so earnest and contrite that it was just about impossible to stay frustrated with him for very long.

"Most likely they have the instinct for it," he sighed. "Now, if you think you could peel us a brace of murphies without creating a disaster?" He hadn't missed the way the boy glanced at the pot on the stove.

"How many is a brace?" Gilan already had his head buried in the pantry.

"Try six," Halt decided. He supposed he should be glad that Gilan knew that the proper name for potatoes were murphies. Not everyone did, but the lad wasn't too good at figuring out how many they would need yet. It shouldn't be too hard to know how much he himself usually ate, and add that to what Halt usually ate. If they had always had the exact same size, he had no doubt the lad would have got it by now, but since some were bigger and some were smaller it seemed to trip him up. Since cooking didn't come as natural to the lad as his sword and bow skills, he wanted numbers and measurements.

"Any carrots?" the question as Gilan came out of the pantry with the murphies in hand pleased Halt. It meant that he was starting to think for himself about what they used. He hadn't really planned on it, but the fact that the lad asked was progress in itself.

"Three should do," he decided. That he hadn't planned for it didn't mean he couldn't use them. The bright smile the boy gave him certainly made it worth the effort.

Gilan tried, very hard, he would say that for the lad. He tried to pay attention and to better himself, and he was, so Halt tried to encourage him in subtle ways when he could.

As he started on the food, with the boy cleaning, chopping and slicing he couldn't help but throwing uneasy looks over his shoulder from time to time though. While he had never known anyone to die from an adder bite, they were still nasty and best avoided. The fact that there might be a whole bunch of them trying to figure out a way to get into his cabin was a very unpleasant feeling.

He kept glancing around for them, then as he took a step back to grab the pot he jumped as he heard an angry hiss behind him. "Gilan!"

"What, oh, uh…" Gilan bit his lip as he looked up from the carrot he was cutting into staves. Around his feet were five baby adders curled up, while two were over by the stove, one seeming to glare at Halt as he backed away from it.

Gilan instantly laid down the knife as he went to retrieve the infant. "They must have found some way in…"

"Really?" Halt gave him a withering look.

"Well, that's not all bad, is it?" Gilan frowned. "Now we know there is a way in, we can look for it and patch it, and then we don't have to worry about any vermin getting in."

"Try under the stove," Halt mused as he saw one more coming out from under the stove. There might be a hole in there somewhere. Technically, Gilan had a point, any hole an adder could get through, rats and mice could use, and Halt would rather keep them out of his cabin. They tended to go really hard on the food in the pantry. It was bad enough when they went after the bacon, bread, grain and vegetables, but if they did, it was only a matter of time before they went after the coffee…

"I found it," Gilan was on his belly on the floor, looking for all the world as if he was trying to crawl right under the stove in spite of the fact it was obvious it was too narrow. Equally unconcerned about the heat radiating from the stove as he was about the adder next to his ear. "I don't know how to fix it though, without moving the whole stove…" he crawled backwards until he was able to stand.

"Does the hole go all the way through, or is it only on the inside?" Halt asked dryly.

"All the way through," as one of the infants hissed at Halt, Gilan quickly scooped it up. "I could see the trees."

"Then here's an idea… why don't you fix it from the outside?" Halt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That might be easier," Gilan grinned. "Want me to do it right away?"

"No time before supper, and we want it done proper anyway," Halt decided. He was very, very tempted at hissing back the next time one of the devilish little things hissed at him.

"Yes," Gilan drew out the word thoughtfully. "I could just get a rag or something to stuff in it for now, that'd make it harder for them to get in."

"First sensible thing I've heard today, there's some rags in the cupboard," he nodded his head. The boy instantly darting over to it to grab two frayed rags. "And take those infernal things outside with you," Halt called after him.

A few minutes later he heard some scratching at the other side of the wall that he assumed was Gilan plugging up the hole. Then came the stumble on the stairs, and the faint thud. All sounds he had come to associate with Gilan entering the cabin.

The boy entered, rubbing the top of his head with one hand, "most of them are on the verandah. I don't think they're doing any harm there."

"Probably not," Halt admitted as he started serving up the food on plates. "Get the milk." Before he took an apprentice, he used to have coffee with most meals. Taking Gilan though, he had decided that it was best to limit the stimuli somewhat. Milk was supposed to be good for growing children, and given how Halt had been certain the boy wasn't tall enough to hit the wooden beam on the verandah, he was most certainly growing.

Gilan didn't need telling to start cleaning up after the meal. That was one thing he felt Battleschool had done well with. You never had to tell Gilan to look after his knives or his gear. He seemed to find it second nature to wash plates and scour pots, and though Halt, in the spirit of time-honored tradition, had tried to make him re-do many tasks, a favorite of Pritchard's… He had found it did not affect Gilan as it had him.

When Pritchard did it, he had been exasperated and determined to show him up that he could do the task so well Pritchard could find no fault with it. That was the point of the task. Gilan already performed those tasks to that level from the start, and when Halt told him to scour a scoured pot, the lad simply got confused and did not understand 'why' a scoured pot wasn't good enough for Halt. He truly did not think he had done well enough for Halt, and started trying to figure out where he wasn't good enough.

On the other hand, he had to admit that he had needed something to make him determined back then, Gilan did not. Gilan was already both very determined and very devoted.

Sometimes a little too determined and dangerously devoted…

TBC

Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…