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

Inside the small cabin, Will stood by the bench that divided the main room, and Halt noted a pile of his belongings laying on the far end of it. It pleased him the boy had taken matters into his own hand and cleared out the bedroom for Gilan. He had also been in Halt's bedroom and got his bedroll. Both of them now laying on the floor close by to the fireplace. No doubt to make it a little more comfortable for himself. Halt also noted that there was a tear in the shirt lying on top of the pile, Will was not overly fond of such mundane things as mending clothes.

He couldn't remember that from Gilan's days as an apprentice, he seemed to tear his things even more often than Will did, but he also seemed to mend them on a regular basis.

"Will and I ate not long ago, are you hungry?" he asked. He wouldn't be surprised if Crowley had pushed on without dinner, and was going to make sure to get some of Master Chubb's food at the castle.

"Not really," Gilan shrugged, uncertain.

"I should have asked, did you and Crowley eat dinner," Halt mused as he felt the coffee mug left on the table. Just as he had thought, it was cold.

"No," Gilan shook his head.

"Sit down, I'll fix you something quick," Halt decided.

"It's okay, I'm not that hungry," Gilan didn't move any closer to the table.

"Sit down Gilan, if you don't eat, you certainly won't heal," Halt sighed as he took the mug with the cold coffee and set the tin mug on the stovetop to warm up.

"Where are your things?" Will asked. "I can put them in the bedroom for you."

"I, don't have anything, not except what I'm wearing," Gilan ducked his head.

"Oh," Will looked abashed. "Well, the room is ready for you, I only need to make up the bed."

Halt looked up with a frown, then shook his head. When Gilan had been an apprentice, Halt had warned him to keep after the room and make sure it was neat. Whenever he looked in there, it always had been just that. Though he supposed that several years in Battleschool might have had something to do with that. Will, was a mite bit less orderly and there was constantly an item or two on the floor that really had no business being there. A bit of a clutter on the table, and apparently, the bed left a mess.

"Make sure you do," he warned. "And get a clean blanket on there." He took a few slices of bacon from the meat locker, and two eggs. Once he was satisfied with the bacon, he lifted it out of the pan, cracking in the eggs, and as they slowly firmed up he cut two thick slices of bread. As well as two thinly cut slices of cheese. Carefully turning the eggs over, Gilan had always liked them turned, but with the yolk runny. There was a bit of grease left in the pan and he laid the bread in it. Giving it a light toasting as it soaked up the grease and took on a nice fine crust from it. Bread would burn quickly if you were not careful though, so he eased the two slices out and laid them on a plate, a slice of cheese, and then the bacon on top. The heat from both bread and bacon caused the cheese to melt a little, and the eggs he laid out beside them. If it had been for himself or Will, he would have fried the eggs harder, and laid them on top of the bacon. Though he had never asked, he rather thought that was another thing from Battleschool. The food certainly wasn't bad there, but it was served only one way. Eggs were scrambled, bacon was fried in thick slices, and there was no room at all for personal preferences.

It had taken quite a few months before Gilan even realized he was allowed to have a preference, a few more before he realized Halt might actually care what it was… Will had been much faster to ask for something made this way or that way.
He checked on the coffee, and finding it warm enough he topped up the mug with a few drops before he put it back in front of Gilan who seemed to stare at it in amazement.

"Is, is that for me?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to serve it to your horse," Halt grumbled, and sighed as Gilan gave him an uncertain look. "Did they feed you anything decent at the castle?"

"Mostly soup," he fidgeted. "It wasn't bad, but I've just not been very hungry."

"I'm not surprised," Halt mused. Gilan was even thinner than usual, thought if he had been unconscious for as long as Crowley thought, it was near a wonder he hadn't starved. The shirt was the right size, length wise, but probably made for someone who was a bit more firmly built as it hung off the thin shoulders. Either that, or Crowley had had it made that way hoping that the boy would fill out at least a little when he was with Halt. "Well, you eat that, it shouldn't be too heavy for you." He realized he might have made a little too much, for if Gilan had been less than well fed, he might need some time to adjust to full portions. "At least eat what you can," he urged. "It's not the end of the world if you don't finish it. I got one who'll only be too happy to do that," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder where Will was just coming back out of the bedroom. At least the boy had the decency to look a bit flustered at it.

Nodding slowly, Gilan accepted the knife and fork that Halt handed him, and started slowly cutting the egg, and the first bread and bacon construction into pieces. Halt noted that he cut away the white around the yolk first, and poked the partially liquid yolk experimentally with the tip of the fork. He looked rather as if he was trying to figure out what it was, and what he was supposed to do with it. Then after a mouthful of fried bread and bacon he slipped the whole thing into his mouth, a look of pleasant surprise on his face.

"Not too bad, is it?" Halt mused.

"No, no, it's really good," Gilan gave him a worried look. "It's a lot better than what the soup was, it really is." He was hesitating, the utensils over the plate.

"No need to look so scared," Halt sighed softly. "Though I suppose I can see why you do." Easing his chair back, he rose from the table. It would probably be easier for the boy if he didn't feel as if he was watched as he ate. "Eat what you feel like, give the rest to Will, I have some reports I need to go over anyway."

Gilan nodded mutely, as Halt took a half dozen scrolls and sat on the bench. He ate the other egg, but left most of the rest, giving Will an uncertain look. Having refilled his own mug of coffee, and spooned a liberal amount of honey into it Will happily took over the plate. He didn't even bother about the utensils as he piled one slice of bread on top of the other. Eagerly devouring both with an appetite that might rival Horace.

Halt might have looked as if he was looking at the scrolls, but in truth he was studying his former apprentice. Gilan was favoring his shoulder. Crowley had said he had a sling, and was supposed to use it when the joint pained him too much but that he did not like it and tried to avoid it. That certainly sounded like the apprentice he knew.

He seemed a little more relaxed when no one was talking to him, but he clearly was still somewhat ill at ease.

"Once you've finished stuffing yourself, make sure everything is cleaned," Halt told Will as he laid down the scroll. "Do you have a night shirt?" he asked Gilan who shook his head.

"I'll give you one of mine, it'll be a bit short though," Halt mused. Previous experience had showed that his own night shirt when worn by Gilan looked more like a long tunic, but it was better than nothing and would help keep him warm.

"It's okay, I don't need anything," Gilan started.

Ignoring the statement, Halt went to his dresser, pulling out a slightly worn, and for him, long nightshirt that he placed next to the boy. "It get's a bit chilly sometimes at night, and you don't have any insulation. Better you use it," he urged.

"Thanks," Gilan looked a little hesitant.

"Is there anything you need before you go to bed?" Halt asked, and the young man shook his head. "You probably should get some rest then. I'm sure you can use it, and Will is going to do the same as soon as he's done with the cleaning up."

"Okay," picking up the nightshirt, Gilan stood and limped towards the door of the smaller bedroom, pausing by it to give Halt a hesitant look.

"That's the right one," Halt confirmed and Gilan nodded.

"Thanks, goodnight," he started.

"Goodnight," Will called cheerfully where he was cleaning out the plate.

"Goodnight, I'm just in the next room," Halt stated, though he doubted Gilan would get him. There had been a time he wouldn't have hesitated to. There had even been once or twice, for various reasons, that he had woken because Gilan decided that he would rather sleep on Halt's floor than in his own bed.

Granted, one of those time, it had been quite the storm, and one of the branches from the elm tree had decided it would rather be in Gilan's room than on its own trunk… He really felt quite proud of the boy for having the sense not to sleep in the bed when all the rain, wind, and not to mention one or two squirrels, angry over their sudden eviction, had decided to take over his room.

He just hoped he would have enough sense now to do the same, though he wasn't sure of it. Never had he seen Gilan this way, and he had thought he had seen him at his worst. There had been one or two quite rough spells during his apprenticeship.
Will had been abducted and forced into slavery, and some would no doubt think that was as bad as it got. Especially for a first year apprentice, but Gilan had certainly not had it much easier even if his trials had been of a different kind. Neither boy had led an easy life, and he had thought he was ready for most things that could happen to them, but this, this was something new and he really wasn't sure what to do.

Gilan, not knowing who he was, who Halt was, or really anything about himself. Crowley had told him some things, certainly, but some of the things left unsaid weighed quite heavily on Halt's mind. David had agreed to send Gilan to Halt, because it truly was what they felt it was what was best for him. Yet he wondered how his friend must have suffered, sending his own son away at such a time. Knowing it was with someone else he was most likely to find himself. It must have torn David's heart to pieces, and he was proud of him for doing it. At least the man cared enough about his son to do what was best for him. It had never been easy for David, his wife had died in childbirth, and he had been alone with the boy.

Holding a position where he really had no time to devote to a child, and yet always trying to find a way to make it work. Even when it meant securing a two year old to a fence while he supervised sword drills.

Halt heard the faint creak of the rope frame bed in the other room, and as much as he ached for Gilan, he also felt a pang for David. It really had to be hard for him to see Gilan like this, because Halt himself felt as if it was just about killing him…

TBC
The caffeine addicted Cricket wants to thank you all for reading...