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 7

With his shoulder, Gilan couldn't draw the longbow, at least Halt felt it wasn't justifiable to ask him to do so. He still sent him with Will to the clearing to practice archery. If one compiled the time he had spent practicing, Gilan had spent months in that clearing, same as Will.

The boy had mostly toyed his way through a bowl of porridge that morning, and seemed completely dumbfounded over what Rangers did. Completely unlike Gilan, even at twelve. Halt kept having to remind himself that this Gilan didn't even know what Gilan at twelve had known. He knew about the leather cuff to protect your arm from the bowstring, but Will had explained the double scabbard to him. He had studied the mottled green and grey cloak with mild curiosity, but with nothing like recognition.

While the two boys were focusing on the archery, Halt was going over reports and turning the problem over in his mind. He would have imagined that Crowley when he was up at the castle had informed Pauline. She was very fond of both boys, and if nothing else, would do so for his own safety. He knew Pauline would be cross with him if he did not, and Halt knew Crowley would not want that.

Gilan looked the same, and much of the mannerism was the same, but the ever-present smile was gone. It had been replaced with a slight frown that Halt felt he could understand. After all, everything he saw was new to him, and he had no idea how it related to himself. Laying down the report Halt rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He always found it hard when one of the boys was sick or hurt. Crowley was right, he wanted them with him when they were, so that he could make sure they were taken properly care of, and that they were safe, but it was still always hard.

Will quiet was one of the worst things, when his incessant chatter was missing. He was always asking questions, several at once, Gilan didn't do that half as much. So when he had heard him do so in the night as he talked to Will, it had felt wrong. Gilan could ask several questions in rapid succession, Will asked them all at one time before you had time to give him an answer. Will when he was wore out and quiet was the worst for Halt's nerves.

With Gilan it was when he was still. He always seemed to be moving. Never still for a moment if he could help it. So much energy he needed to find some way to expunge he was never still even in his sleep. When he was ill, and barely moved for two days had been absolutely nerve wrecking for Halt. It wasn't the fever that scared the life out of him, it was the way he didn't even twitch a finger and just had that worn, tiered frown on his face.

Before he actually started moving again, Halt had thought he would go mad with worry. Now, though he was moving it was without the usual boundless energy.

Deciding that it was about time to start lunch he ignored the reports. He might have tried to make Gilan's favourites, hoping for a spart of recognition, but that would have been so much easier with Will who actually had several favourites. Gilan, was mostly expressively happy that someone cared enough to feed him. He never much seemed to care what it was he was being fed.

Whatever Halt gave him, he was happy and grateful for it, and if anything, it wasn't what Halt cooked that was his favourite, but that Halt made the food. Second to Halt's food, he figured it was Master Chubb's food, or Will's, Halt wasn't sure which order Gilan ranked them in. One of Will's wardmates, Jenny was probably around there as well, as she had once given Gilan a couple tarts in passing as he was going around the kitchen.

Really, Gilan didn't expect people to give any particular attention to him, or care if he was hungry, so anyone who did tended to win him over almost frighteningly easy. You didn't think a knight's son would be so desperate for kindness, but he was. Then with David's duties and how little time he had had to truly spend with his son, Halt wasn't really surprised at all. When other fathers took their sons fishing, or played ball with them, David took Gilan to a parade and Battleschool drills. Since David had no one else to look after him, Gilan never had a choice.

There was no use wondering if some food was better than something else, a good piece of mutton that was in the meat locker was what he had meant to make, so that was what he would use. Will would be coming in when he smelled the food, and he would no doubt bring Gilan with him.

He was just putting some thyme in the pot when he heard the soft step, and then a light thud out on the verandah.

"It's almost ready, Will, fix up some salad greens," Halt urged. "Gilan, there are bowls and mugs in the cupboard to my right, and some utensils in the drawer on the left."

Moving forward, Gilan opened the cupboard and took out the requested items. He set them on the table while Will was mixing up some bitter greens.

"How did you do?" Halt asked as he checked the grains he had made to go with the mutton. They were done so he put the pot on the table.

"Not too bad, but I'm still really slow," Will mused. He was working on getting faster, and it always cost him his aim. "Gilan tried a shot, he hit dead centre," he added.

"You shouldn't draw the bow, not with that shoulder," Halt frowned, looking at him. After he had placed the mugs on the table, Gilan had just stood there.

"It's fine," he shrugged. "If I'm supposed to do that, I figured I might as well try."

"Not until the shoulder's healed," Halt stated firmly as he put a platter of mutton on the table. "Sit down and eat, both of you. There's plenty more to do today."

Will eagerly took his seat and served himself a healthy portion of the food. He might not have hit a growth spurt as he had hoped, but he certainly had a healthy appetite and was building up some muscle and a firm build. Gilan, scooped a little of the grain onto his plate and some of the mutton. Accepting the coffee pot to fill his mug though he seemed to hesitate over the honey. Finally, he dropped in a small spoonful. Quietly picking through the meal as Will chattered happily. Halt got the idea he was trying to fill the silence, which he appreciated, but he was also worried Gilan wouldn't want to interrupt.

Finishing his food, and a last mug of coffee he noted both boys seemed done. In Will's case, his plate was scraped clean, in Gilan's, there was some scraps remaining, but he had finished what little he had taken.

"Will, dishes," he started. "Gilan, are you at all familiar with the Araluen history and geography?"

The young man shook his head and he nodded thoughtfully. "We got a couple of books that Will are studying, it might not be a bad idea for you to go over them. Might keep you out of trouble for a few minutes. I really don't want you drawing a long bow like that. It will take longer for your shoulder to heal if you do. Will, you might as well get him the books before you get started."

The books were the same as Gilan had been reading when he was an apprentice, and now he accepted them once more. Sitting at the table opposite Halt while Will took care of the dishes. Then went back out with his longbow.

At any other time, there would have been some easy talk, Gilan didn't have the need for it, but he would usually comment on something in the book. Either to ask a question, or offer a thought. The way he sat perfectly still and quiet except for the faint rustle when he turned a page was really starting to get on Halt's nerves. He found himself getting up and making a pot of coffee, just to fill the room with some motion.

Once it was down, he poured two mugs and put one in front of Gilan who looked up, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown, and it was the first familiar expression Halt had really seen. It made him feel relieved, and crushed at the same time. Because Gilan didn't know it was familiar.

"I don't know how anyone stays awake reading reports," he stated to explain the action, and fill the silence. With Gilan in the room, that really shouldn't have been his job. "How are you doing?"

"Apparently I can read," Gilan frowned at a page. "At least I suppose that's good to know."

Halt gave a start; the boy hadn't even known he was able to read. He would have thought they had at least covered that with him, or given him something to relieve the boredom when he was stuck in bed. Sighing softly, he sat down in the chair next to him. "You can read, quiet well. And you can write, you got a better hand than I. Neat, easy to read, not like the chicken scratches that boy make," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the clearing where Will would be. "They haven't really told you anything, have they?"

"No," Gilan shook his head. "One of the surgeons said they shouldn't, he said I had to remember it myself."

"You can read and write, you can ride really well, and you know how to use both the longbow and the sword," Halt told him softly. "You are good with the knives, not so good at cooking, but you get by if you have to. You are one of the best I know at moving without being seen, and you generally drive me out of my mind because it's impossible to get you to sit still for even a minute."

Gilan looked at him, brow furrow and lips slightly parted as he tried to take it all in. "Thank you," he swallowed. "No one really told me anything, kind of made it hard to believe they knew me like they said they did."

"I know you Gilan," Halt patted his shoulder before pushing the honey pot in front of him. "There might be things I can't tell you, I suppose they have a point that it's better if you figure it out for yourself, but I do know you, and if there is something you wonder about, you can ask me."

"Why does it matter if someone tells me?" Gilan frowned, tentatively taking a small spoon of honey and putting it in his coffee.

"I would guess because they will tell you their opinion, and not your own," Halt mused. "I think you have a neat hand, but I suppose one of the scribes might not. I think you're pretty good with the sword, but I know that Sir Rodney up at the Battleschool thinks it's more than that. In the end, what you think is going to be the most important thing. But I don't see how telling you that you can read is so wrong."

Gilan nodded slowly, turning his calloused hands over and looking at the palms. He had no idea how he had got those callouses, what kind of work he did. Apparently not cooking it seemed, what kind of calluses did a sword leave? Or the longbow? Apparently they weren't from cooking, but as far as he knew, he was a carpenter, and they were all having a good laugh at his expense. That was why he had wanted to try Will's longbow, even if his shoulder was burning now. Not showing how bad it hurt was taking just about all he had. He had to know though, if he at all was able to handle it.

He certainly couldn't trust what they said, not really, he trusted Crowley. He found he felt like he could trust Halt, but he did not trust anyone else really. He certainly didn't trust David, if there was anyone he did not trust at all, it was David. He was rather glad to be away from him, even if he felt horribly estranged to his surroundings. After all, the infirmary in Castle Araluen had certainly not been any better.

"When was I your apprentice?" he asked. "Was I as young as Will?"

"You were fourteen when you started," Halt told him. "Apprentices starts at fifteen, generally, but you were in a rush about it. Because if you hadn't, you would have wound up being a knight."

"A knight?" Gilan snorted. "No one would have taken me as a knight."

"You think so?" Halt raised an eyebrow. He was a little surprised that he seemed so set against his archery and sword skills.

"How would they, if I lost my horse and my memory both to common thieves?" Gilan shrugged. "Doesn't sound very knightly to me."

"I don't think someone who can't remember how it happened, should speak too badly about himself for having let it happen," Halt stated, watching as the boy sunk further down into his seat, chastised. "Even the best of us can be outmatched Gil," he continued his voice more gentle. "You might have got careless, or, you might just have been so badly outnumbered there was nothing you could do. Since you don't know which, there is no reason to think so badly of yourself."

"Gil?" the boy asked with a frown, and Halt sighed. Of course that was the part he listened to, and got stuck on.

"Gil, it's a short form of Gilan, just as Will is short for Will," he stated. "So that whenever you do something stupid, I don't have to waste time on a long name before I start lecturing you about it."

"Is that often?" sipping the coffee, Gilan tried to hide his worry in the mug.

"You were my apprentice for five years," Halt sighed. "I hold you personally responsible for every single one of my grey hairs, and if by some miracle, you're not to blame for one of them. You can be sure that Will is…"

To his surprise, Gilan offered the first genuine smile since Crowly had brought them. "That's alright then I suppose, as long as I've had help…"

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