A Bit of a Scrape

Summary: Gilan's first Gathering didn't exactly go as expected.

A/N: This is sort of a "what if?" story that I did as a request for a friend. It'll probably be only two chapters; just a quick little short I'm trying to get out before I have to go back to the joys of school and homework in earnest. Why was winter break so very short? D:

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice or any of the characters or places therein, nor do I profit from this in any way. I write merely for the joy in it.

A Bit of a Scrape

The sounds of Gilan returning to camp well after dark were minimal, almost nonexistent—especially with the backdrop of the now fairly low sounds of the Rangers, those still awake, talking and reminiscing quietly around the large central fire of the Gathering Grounds. In fact, the infinitesimal noise that Gilan made would probably have been completely overlooked by a normal person. But, seeing as Halt had stayed up with the purpose of listening out for them, they were more than audible to him.

The soft, almost soundless, footfalls stopped in the center of the little campsite they had set up earlier that day. Then came the sound of the fire being quietly stoked and water from the water bucket being poured: probably into the cook pot, Halt guessed by the sound. Not that he particularly cared in the moment. He stepped out from the tree shadow he was sheltering in with his arms crossed.

"You certainly have an interesting idea as to what it means to be back before dark," Halt said dryly.

Gilan startled, nearly dropping the pot as he hung it on the hook above the fire. He just managed to save it and whirled around to face his mentor.

"H-halt," he stammered, still mildly surprised, "I thought you'd be asleep already—or by the fire."

"Did you?" Halt said, a dangerous note creeping into words.

Gilan only nodded, looking away slightly, his whole posture slumped. Halt stepped forwards, his glare darkening as he caught better sight of Gilan's condition. His hair was ruffled and interspersed with foliage and there were scratches on his face. His clothes and cloak were torn and dirty, his boots, bracers, and gauntlets badly scuffed. But by far the worst was the condition of his bow; the string had obviously gotten waterlogged and, as a consequence, it had stretched so that it was practically useless. The fletching on the arrows in his quiver had been so badly treated that they would all need to be completely redone.

"Not only did you forget what it means to be back before dark, you also seem to have forgotten how to take care of your gear. What exactly did you think you were doing?"

There was no hiding the disappointment that tinged his words. A Ranger's life so often came down to his cloak and the weapons he carried—if they weren't well maintained... His apprentice knew better; at least, he should have known better. Halt expected then to hear some quick apologetic explanation or excuse, but Gilan said nothing. He merely hesitated uncomfortably as if he could not quite find the words or voice he needed to make a convincing excuse. Halt chose then not to give him time to properly formulate one. He didn't want to hear anything like that anyway. Excuses and justifications only ever served to keep people from learning from their mistakes.

"And," Halt continued, "you missed the call for supper—before you ask, there's none left. If nothing else, maybe that might help teach you the importance of coming back on time, since you seem to be incapable of getting spoken instructions through your head today."

That did something. Gilan stiffened, his jaw set, and his hands fisted. He glared at Halt. The slight flush on his face was now more from anger than embarrassment.

"It wasn't exactly my fault," he snapped through clenched teeth.

Then the flash of sudden anger was gone as quickly as it had come. He sank down onto a nearby log and held his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry Halt," he said quietly, miserably.

Halt was taken aback by Gilan's raw display for a moment; it was rare for Gilan to behave like that. In fact, absolutely none of his recent behavior seemed in keeping with the boy he had come to know. It was that which made Halt realize that there was far more to this, and more going on, than appeared on the surface. So thinking, he brushed the boy's apology aside.

"What's happened then?" he asked, moving to stand in front of the dejected-looking figure, his arms still crossed.

~x~X~x~

Earlier That Day

~x~X~x~

The two riders on their shaggy horses were making their way towards the grounds where the annual Ranger Gathering was held. The older of the two was sitting placidly, which was, at the moment, in great contrast to the younger one.

"Fidgeting isn't going to get us there any faster," Halt told his apprentice dryly as he shifted in his saddle yet again.

That was certainly true enough, Gilan thought; though, honestly, he was not exactly sure he really did want to get there faster. Rangers were an exclusive group and an apprentice's first Gathering was the time that they actually became a part of it—and he was excited about that; it was something he wanted more than anything. Unfortunately, an apprentice's first Gathering was also the time when they were assessed. If they failed to pass the test, then their advancement would be delayed until such time as the test could be retaken—or they could just be dropped as apprentices all together.

Consequently, Gilan had been practicing and studying overtime in order to prepare for the Gathering and he was still a little nervous about it. According to Halt, he'd already passed the first part of the test, successfully managing to help thwart a small group of Rangers who had tried to ambush Halt on the way in. Needless to say, those other Rangers had given him stores of ideas on how to try that for himself later. He could hardly think of anything that would be more fun and satisfying than getting the better of Halt like that—which was probably why those other Rangers had tried. He felt a grin creeping across his face at the thought.

However, the fact that he'd passed the first test did not make the prospect of the other tests, or test parts, seem any easier. He wondered then if there was a word that could combine both nervous and excited. He was about to open his mouth to ask Halt, when he thought better of it, closing it again with a faint smile. Halt had already made it blatantly clear that he'd asked far too many questions already today.

It wasn't long after that when they finally reached the Gathering Grounds. The little one-man tents of the Rangers that had already arrived were neatly pitched. Halt directed Gilan to a spot near the edge of the orderly rows.

"Why don't you start setting up the tents, and tending to the horses and I'll go report to Crowley," Halt said.

Gilan nodded and set quickly to work; tending the horses, pitching the low one-man tents, and then fetching water from a nearby stream: first for the horses and then for them so they could make coffee later. All the while he stole fascinated glances at the Gathering grounds, watching the Rangers that had already arrived moving about with rapt curiosity. He was just finishing with laying stones for a fireplace when he saw a group of apprentices making their way towards him. There were six of them, and none of them looked much older than a third year.

Gilan smiled happily at them as they approached, already more than eager to try and make friends with other apprentice Rangers. After all, they all had the same ambitions and were all going through the same things; that should be enough to give them common ground as well as common purpose. Also, they were the people he'd be working with for the rest of his life—assuming he didn't fail the test tomorrow, that is.

"Are you Halt's new apprentice?" the oldest member of the group asked, his tone sounding both curious and friendly.

"That's me," he nodded. "My name's Gilan."

"Jenkin," the oldest boy, who was obviously the spokesperson of the group, introduced himself in return. "Pleased to meet you," he added, holding out a hand in greeting.

"Likewise," Gilan said, clasping arms warmly with him. He looked to the other boys and they all introduced themselves in turn. Gilan filed each name away carefully, matching each with its owner's face so as to remember them.

There was a slight moment of awkward silence after the introductions and Gilan opened his mouth to fill it when Jenkin beat him to it.

"There aren't any scheduled events or tests today, so a lot of us apprentices were going to spend the day in the woods by the Gathering Grounds, to try and get to know each other better; would you like to join us?"

Gilan nodded immediately, excited at the prospect, before he checked himself slightly. "I'd better ask Halt first."

As soon as he said it, he caught sight of his mentor returning from meeting with the Ranger Commandant. He excused himself for a moment and made his way to meet him.

"Halt," he began, before he'd even made it to a complete stop, "the other apprentice's invited me to spend the day in the woods with them, and I'd like to go—If that's alright with you," he added a little belatedly.

Halt glanced from his eager apprentice to the group of other apprentices standing slightly behind and to the side of him. He considered for a moment and then nodded. There was usually nothing scheduled for the first day of the Gathering and it would be a good idea for Gilan to get acquainted with the other apprentices; Rangers were a tight-knit group after all and they could end up working closely together in the field later.

"Just so long as you're back before dark," he said.

Gilan grinned. He headed back to the other apprentices and nodded at them, still smiling broadly. "Halt says that I can go."

"That's great," Jenkin said with a smile of his own as he turned to lead the way.

Gilan narrowed his eyes slightly. There was something about the smile seemed a little forced, a little fake. That made Gilan frown a little internally before he brushed it off; it was probably because they didn't know him yet and were just trying to be friendly despite that. He was positive that that would wear off as soon as they really got to know each other. And what better way to do that then by spending time together and having fun?

He and the other apprentices headed off into the woods at a brisk pace and soon were chatting animatedly about their experiences over the year. Their hike took them about five kilometers in, but the time seemed to pass quickly. Gilan was in the middle of sharing a story about Halt—one that probably would have landed him with a month of extra chores or marooned in a tree had his mentor been around. By then, most of the other apprentices were chuckling, smiling, and laughing. He had just started in on the part about how it was, in fact, true that Halt cut his hair with his saxe knife, when Jenkin raised a hand to cut him short. Gilan noticed, a little belatedly that Jenkin was the only who hadn't seemed at all amused by the story. A small frown creased Gilan's forehead, but he had little enough time to dwell on that.

"We're here," Jenkin announced.

Gilan glanced around wondering what it was about this area that made it so special. It looked just like a typical stretch of woodland. It was close to the river and there was a patch of marshy land that bordered the forest and the river.

"What are we doing here?" Gilan ventured to ask when he saw nothing remarkable.

"We apprentices like to do a little… initiation ceremony of our own here," Jenkin said, and the others nodded. "It's just some fun tasks we perform. All the rest of us have done them already, and you're the only first year here yet."

Gilan's smile faded, alarm bells ringing in his head when he heard the words initiation ceremony and perform tasks. Having grown up in the Battleshool and closely with the King's army, he was aware of such practices. His father had said it was called pennalism, or hazing, and it was officially banned in the Battleschool and in the army—even if that didn't always work—and with good reason.

Usually, it was when the older members of a group imposed harsh, dangerous and often embarrassing tasks, or even certain types of harassment, on newer members. The idea behind it was that it was supposed to, apparently, teach humility and 'proper' behavior, set a sort of command structure, build conformity, and a stronger feeling of solidarity to a group—but the negative, potentially dangerous, harmful, and even in some cases illegal, consequences usually always outweighed any such supposed benefits.

He remembered his father having to deal with an incident of it at the Battleschool of Caraway when he was about ten years old. Even though Gilan hadn't been involved, the situation hadn't been a pleasant one and his father had thought the incident troubling enough to have a very long discussion with him about it later that night. So thinking, Gilan stopped short, eyeing the other apprentices warily.

Jenkin must have noticed Gilan's change in attitude and sudden reluctance and moved quickly to amend his previous statement a little and to reassure him.

"It's nothing serious or dangerous—it's just for fun, and we all do it together. A lot of it is just practicing and showing each other skills we've learned over the year."

Gilan's suspicions started fading at that and he relaxed a little.

"Henry and I got here early and we set up an obstacle course near the river to practice silent movement, balance, agility, and climbing." He gestured towards the more marshy patch ahead of them.

"Alright then," Gilan said, smiling again—it did admittedly sound pretty fun.

He followed them into the marshy area to see that someone, apparently Jenkin and Henry, had set up a narrow balance beam over a particularly muddy section of the marsh.

"This is the first part," Jenkin said. "I'll lead. Gilan, you can follow me, Henry, after Gilan, then Jacob, Mark, Rodric, Alwen, and Dwight."

All the boys nodded, grinning, and quickly moved into the order that Jenkin called.

"It's more fun and tricky if we all try to cross together, only a couple meters apart. It's more challenging because the beam shakes."

The beam did tremble quite a bit but Gilan had a good sense of balance so easily kept his feet as they went. He had made it about a quarter of the way across when he felt a heavy impact in his back. His arms windmilled as he lost his balance. He desperately tried to regain it, but it was to no avail. He toppled from the beam and landed straight into the mud and dirty water of the marsh sideways. Spluttering and rising to his feet in the knee-deep ooze, he tried to wipe mud away from his eyes, before trudging, as quickly as he could, back to the bank—trying desperately not to lose his boots in the sucking mud in the process. The other boys met him there, having turned around when he fell.

"I'm sorry, Gilan," Henry said, stepping forward. "It was an accident. I tripped on the beam and knocked into you."

Gilan glanced at Henry with slightly angry suspicion. The impact that he'd felt hadn't seemed like an accidental bump to him, but he had no way of proving that. Henry could be telling the truth. Gilan eventually decided to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"It's alright," he said and then glanced at himself.

His uniform and gear had gotten soaked and covered in that sticky foul-smelling marsh mud. He winced. Halt wouldn't be happy about that. He needed to clean the mud out before it set, and he needed to try and dry his bowstring before it stretched so much that it became useless.

"You go on ahead," Gilan said then, glancing towards the river, "I need to try and clean my gear before it gets ruined."

The others nodded their understanding.

"I could help you clean it up," Henry offered, stepping forwards. "After all, it was my fault."

Gilan waved off his offer for help good-naturedly. "It's alright. I'll catch up with you later."

"That sounds fair," Jenkin said. "We'll be just across the marsh when you're finished."

Gilan nodded and then turned to leave, scanning the riverbank ahead of him for an area that was more rocky than sandy so he could get the mud out of everything.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope this had proved an enjoyable diversion so far. I'll get more to the main conflict next time. As usual, feedback is very appreciated and constructive criticism is valued—how else can we learn from mistakes? I do hope the premise isn't totally unbelievable at the moment, but I did work, and am working hard the next chapter, to make it as believable and realistic as possible. (In other words: I can explain!... eventually X)

Side note: In the middle ages, hazing was known as pennalism—which was why I used both words. (Since the dilemma was period accuracy or using language that most everybody actually knows... I settled on not even choosing at all. I'm very indecisive, and would probably make a terrible Ranger. XD