"Halt!" Gilan looked down the obscure dirt road to see Crowley, the Ranger Commandant, materialize out of the shadows of a nearby oak. His hood thrown back, Crowley's ginger hair was the only thing that gave his position away. He was up on the drooping lower branches, which looked like they were about to snap under the commandant's weight.

Gilan pulled Blaze to a stop a good few feet away from the tree and called a cheerful greeting.

"Crowley! Haven't seen you in a while. How's the paperwork?"

Crowley, trying his best to discretely scan the area, made an altogether very un-commandant-like expression before replying "Gilan! I almost mistook you for Halt for a second... but then again, you're way too tall for the likes of him. I'm doing fine, just fine. The paperwork's still more than enough to fill up the moat that I heard Halt recently threw you in… but otherwise, I'm perfect, thank you for asking."

He noticed with a bit of a smirk that Gilan grimaced at the memory of the dirty Redmont moat water. Couldn't blame him there, any moat Halt deemed sufficient to throw deserving people into was a moat to be reckoned with in terms of filth. "Speaking of Halt," Crowley continued, "Come on out! I know you're out there in the bushes, old friend. Emphasis on old."

Gilan looked around and shrugged. "Halt said he going to be late running some errands for Baron Arald. He'll be here by tonight, I think."

Crowley nodded, seemingly satisfied with Gilan's response. But after a few minutes of awkward silence, he fully lowered his guard. Well, as much as a ranger lowers his guard.

"So, Gilan. Come for your apprentice assessment, eh? I heard Halt say you are quite a good shot with your bow. And your unseen movement can rival the best of the corps. Didn't expect that from David's son." Gilan blushed and held his head high. Higher, since he was craning his head a little to see Crowley. Halt's praises came few and far in between.

Just then, a black streak coming from just beside Gilan embedded itself into the branch Crowley was precariously perched on. Without further persuasion, the branch snapped, and gravity pulled Crowley down on his backside with a resounding thump.

Gilan was having difficulty containing his laughter, and Blaze was laughing the way only a horse can laugh, her head bobbing up and down. With a great effort, Gilan slid off Blaze, doubled over and clutching his stomach. As he helped Crowley up, Halt appeared out of nowhere, leading Abelard with one hand and the other replacing his bow across his shoulder.

Crowley glared at the senior ranger and the giddy apprentice. "Dammit! I knew that was going to happen! The Baron's errand, you say? Did that involve nearly killing me?"

Halt performed his signature eyebrow raise and replied "Gilan wasn't lying when he told you I was running an errand for Arald. He was going to send it to Castle Araluen, but I intervened. He wanted me to deliver this letter to you. Top secret."

Crowley grabbed the letter and embraced his old friend. Gilan stood awkwardly to the side.

"So you read it, didn't you." Crowley smiled.

Halt assumed an indigent expression. "A top secret letter from a high ranking baron to the highest ranking ranger? Even I wouldn't go that far."

Now Crowley raised his eyebrow, though it looked weird since his other eyebrow also followed it up.

Gilan intervened before the situation becomes a full blown eyebrow raising competition. "Umm Halt? Crowley? Why don't we finish this at the Gathering?"

"Yes, yes of course." Crowley replies absentmindedly inspecting the mystery letter. He let out a low whistle. Cropper trotted out of the bush behind the oak tree and nickered a hello to the other horses.

The three men - sorry, two short men and a really tall boy - rode to the other edge of the camp, where there was an empty space in the tent lines perfect for two. As Gilan unsaddled Blaze and secretly sneaked her a juicy apple, Halt gave Abelard a good brushing before setting up tents. Crowley had already disappeared into the Senior Ranger's pavilion.

"What time do you think it is, Gilan?" Halt quizzed Gilan as he piled firewood into the fire pit.

"Ummm… about two hours till sundown?" Gilan said, wincing as he realized his error too late.

Halt raised his eyebrow for the second time in the thirty minutes they have been here. "Is that a question or an answer?"

"Two hours before sundown, Halt."

"Hmm. Let's get dinner sorted out before we go practice for your assessment." Halt gestured to the archery range set up at an open area, where a few rangers were firing lightning quick shots mercilessly at battered targets.

Gilan sighed and remembered first few weeks of his apprenticeship. "We will" usually translates to "you will". He resignedly and started to find a pot for the stew, but was soon pleasantly surprised when he found Halt's pot simmering on a campfire.

After a quick but delicious rabbit stew, Gilan rubbed his stomach contently. He and Halt cleaned the pot in the nearby stream after they wiped up the remains of the stew with some bread Halt had stowed away in his pack somewhere.

"Halt?" Gilan tentatively asked the silent figure while they were nursing hot coffee (with lots of honey of course).

Halt grunted, which Gilan took it as a sign to continue. "Did you actually read the letter?"

There was no response for a few minutes. Then Halt shifted to a more comfortable position and signed "Gilan, Crowley is one of my closest friends. Contrary to what you may believe, I only snoop if I think I have a good reason to. I'm sure Crowley will tell us the contents of the letter if it pertains to us."

After downing two cups of coffee, Halt and Gilan strolled to the archery range, exchanging greetings with a few other rangers. It seems like a lot of them wanted to meet the famous Sir David's sword wielding ranger, apprenticed to the equally famous Halt. After pleasantries were finished, Gilan proceeded to the archery range, where other apprentices were also practicing. The older rangers previously shooting were all watching their performances. Gilan snorted inwardly at the other apprentices' results. He could easily beat all of them at archery.

Halt seems to have registered this fact too, because a cautionary hand landed on Gilan's shoulder. Gilan looked curiously at his mentor.

Shaking his head, Halt muttered, "It won't do you any good to show off your skills since you are already better than they are," Gilan grinned, "Practicing archery in front of them would be like rubbing it in their faces. Some might become jealous. You don't want any enemies here." The grin disappeared.

"Then what should I practice?" Gilan asked. Bad question.

"You should practice everything else that you are only slightly more than mediocre at, boy!" Halt snapped.

After an hour at a smaller range, Gilan practiced his knife work, throwing the two knives at random targets in random positions that Halt call out.

"Saxe knife! Sliding! Target five!" Halt instructed. Gilan did so instantly, executing the move perfectly from the start to finish. Except he only hit the outer edge of the bulls-eye. He retrieved his knife with a frown.

"Again! Target eight!" Whew. Bulls-eye this time.

"Again! Target two!" Bulls-eye again.

Gilan paused when he heard someone chuckling from where Halt stood. Crowley was leaned against a tree, grinning and shaking his head.

"Sometimes I wonder how you survived being Halt's apprentice for this long, Gilan. Housework, Housework, Housework, and then training till your arms drop off."

"Housework builds character, Crowley. You'll understand if you ever take an apprentice." Halt muttered. He turned to Gilan. "An ordinary archer, in this case knife thrower, practices until he gets it right…"

Gilan finished the modified phrase, "A ranger practices until he never gets it wrong. I know, Halt."

Halt blinked. Was he getting predictable and repetitive? But it only lasted a moment before he barks out "Throwing knife! Diving! Target twelve!"

After the last knives and arrows have been extracted from the pummeled targets, the rangers dispersed to their respective tents. Crowley followed Halt and Gilan to the tent lines, said goodnights (and a good luck for Gilan tomorrow), and reentered the Senior Ranger's pavilion. Halt had retired into his tent already, leaving Gilan alone by the dying fire to take care of his knives. Soon the Gathering Ground was quiet apart from the occasional nickering of one horse to another in the open clearing by the tents.

Gilan was stretched out on his bedroll, too excited to go to sleep even though every muscle was sore and tired (don't you just hate it when you're lying in bed and can't fall asleep, so you ponder on the meaning of life and everything else in the universe until your brain feels like it's about to explode?). Yeah, that's how he felt.

What was in the letter Halt gave Crowley? Why didn't Baron Arald just give it to Halt? Halt usually resolves any conflicts in and around Redmont, so this must be something very important, right?

Or… does it have something to do with Halt himself?

Before he could fully finish that train of thought, Gilan fell soundly asleep.

Of course he won't remember it in the morning.