Ranger's Apprentice Quick Stories

Group Hug

Gilan was fifty-two. No one would ever guess it by looking at him. His blonde hair somehow didn't have a streak of gray in it. His blue eyes were bright and lively like always. His smile was dazzling. He was fit and lean and tall and muscled. It was almost as if he hadn't changed at all.

Except, of course, for his station in life.

He rode Blaze at a happy canter through the gates, nodding to the guards. They took one look at Gilan, having watching him grow up or seen him visit multiple times, and let the Ranger pass, only nodded a greeting as he went by them.

"It's good to be back here," Gilan mused as Blaze trotted up to the battle school. His father, being in his early seventies now, no longer led the drills at the school. But Gilan knew that he often spent his free time watching the students with the new battlemaster and giving his input wherever it was welcome.

As he neared the school, Gilan saw that he had been correct in his guess. On a platform high above the drill yard, two men stood watching the students as they performed drill after drill as they were called out by one of the men. The other man, older and silent, was unmistakably Gilan's father. Even in their older ages, a stranger could place the pair as father and son. Gilan shared many of his father's features: his nose, his kind blue eyes, his playful and curious smile, his athletic build.

The drills ceased as Gilan dismounted. Clearly, the two men atop the risen platform had taken notice of him. Gilan waited patiently as his father descended the stairs and made his way across the field to him.

"I almost want to tell him now," Gilan commented quietly to Blaze. The little horse's ears twitched.

And risk your mother's anger when she feels left out? Blaze seemed to ask. Sounds dumb if you ask me.

Gilan smiled ruefully.

"Well, I didn't ask you," he pointed out. Blaze snorted.

Maybe you should.

Gilan rolled his eyes at his horse.

"Gilan," David's voice cut across Gilan's mounting retort to his horse. Despite the fact that he was now in his early fifties, and a successful grown man, Gilan felt instant comfort at the sound of his father's voice.

"Father," Gilan returned. He looked across him to see David smiling warmly. Gilan smiled in return, and the two men embraced warmly.

"It's been months," his father accused as they patted each other roughly on the back. Gilan laughed, secretly enjoying the tight hold of his father.

"I'm sorry," he said as they finally pulled apart. "Things in the Corps have been rather busy."

David's eyes softened, and a hint of deep sadness gleamed in them.

"Yes, I'm sure they have," David said. Of course, the entire kingdom had heard of Crowley's passing, which had happened a mere three weeks prior. David had known Crowley for years and had even shared many fond memories with the late Ranger Commandant. After all, he, Crowley, Halt and Duncan had been instrumental in holding off Morgarath's forces during the man's first attack nearly forty years prior. When a group of men go through something like that together, Gilan had learned that they formed a sort of bond that could never be broken. In fact, Gilan had formed a similar bond with Halt, Will and Horace.

"How is Halt?" David asked. He knew of Halt and Crowley's deep friendship that surpassed any of the others' relationships with the two men. Tough as Halt may be, David worried for his friend's mental well being.

Gilan pursed his lips.

"I think he's doing okay," he said carefully. "As well as he can be, anyway. His best friend just died."