#mentions of skandia and past slavery

[areiacannaid]

Ingredients

Summary: Will had been back home for more than two months now. The distance in time from his experience in Skandia was almost as far away as the country itself. It didn't seem fair that it could still affect him as if he still lived it. It wasn't fair that it had happened at all–that it had hurt so much.

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Chapter 1

Will felt his eyes grow hot as he stared in dismay at the mess strewn out before him: a scattered array of chaos that encompassed the entirety of the kitchen and table. He was supposed to have finished hours ago–should have been able to finish hours ago. And yet he had not even fully started, had accomplished nothing but making a mess of things… yet again.

He had only wanted to make something nice to eat. But it had all been waylaid… as so many things had been, ever since Skandia. It seemed that he could no longer even enjoy something as simple as a rare day off.

Halt had been called away by Crowley for a mission and he had left Will behind in Redmont. Gilan had been asked to come down for the duration to help Will keep up with his training and studies while Halt was gone.

"I don't want to leave him alone right now."

Will knew he shouldn't have read the dispatch Halt had written to Gilan. It had been a private correspondence after all. But his mentor had left it unguarded on the table just a moment too long for Will's curiosity.

"I don't want to leave him alone right now."

His chest felt like it was constricting even now as he thought of it. Will closed his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Gilan, or even that he would rather be alone. He loved the chance to spend any time with the older Ranger, and often lamented that they never got to see each other as much as Will would have liked when Gilan was stationed so far away. But the implication that Halt did not trust him to be able to take care of himself stung badly, became another pain to add to the jumbled pile that never seemed to leave his chest. It matched the cloying bitter thoughts that had stayed with him since Skandia: that it had all happened because he was weak, because he had failed, because he wasn't capable enough.

Halt had told him many times that this was not true. Instead, he'd told him that he was proud of him for surviving. But the words in the letter did not match the words he had spoken and that hurt, brushed along his thoughts like so many sharpened fragments of doubt.

But there was nothing to be done about it. Halt was going to be gone for a couple of weeks and Gilan was coming to watch him and that was that. However, there had been about a day's gap in between Halt's departure and Gilan's arrival in which Will would be on his own. And Halt, knowing this, had decided to give him that time as a day off. Days off with Halt were more than few and far between so Will had gratefully seized the opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a holiday of any kind and he had promised himself that now was finally the time to indulge in his hobbies. Now was the time to do something that might make him happy again… for however briefly it might be.

The bitter truth was that he seemed barely to have enough left of himself to simply get through what his training required of him each day. And the task of catching up on all he had missed during his capture seemed almost insurmountable. Once he scraped himself through another day of lessons, he seemed unable to muster up anything more than that. The few moments left to him in the evening were spent in idle exhaustion, too drained to do anything but get ready to repeat it all once more again the next day.

He just felt so hollow.

He was home again: back where he was safe, back where he was meant to be, and there was so much he wanted to do. He wanted to embrace his old passions again, those activities that had always made him feel happy, productive, and worth something more than mindless drudgery.

But lately, he never had the energy for it, let alone the heart.

All that pain from Skandia seemed to have bloomed into a sense of apathy and numbness so pernicious that it scared him–made him hate himself for it as much as everything else. That in turn only seemed to feed that deep-seated pain once more, creating an endless cycle he could not escape… not even in sleep. His memories of his capture and all that had happened, incomplete and fragmented though some parts of it were, still tormented his dreams so often that his rest was nothing but intermittent scraps.

He'd been back home for more than two months now. The distance in time from his experience was almost as far away as the country itself. It didn't seem fair that it could still affect him as if he still lived it. It wasn't fair that it had happened at all, that it had hurt so much.

He was so tired.

The sudden sound of Tug's horsey greeting shattered the stillness that had settled over Halt's cabin, startling Will from the milling thoughts that had overtaken him. He straightened sharply, quickly, from where he'd been sitting with his head in his hands. One more glance at the horrible mess he'd made of the kitchen made him cringe, guilty heart jumping uncomfortably with the knowledge of just how long he'd been idle… and the knowledge that it was too late for him to hide the failure of his cooking day, too late to put everything away.

Useless…

He knew the sound of light footfalls on the steps to the cabin and the soft rap of knuckles on the front door was Gilan's way of announcing his presence. A friendly courtesy, since Will knew the young Ranger could move in near total silence if he chose. He probably should probably have been grateful for the gesture, but all platitudes had been overridden by an embittered and anxious heartbeat. Instead, he merely felt guilty and called out. He found himself wishing that Gilan hadn't come at all. Will wasn't ready.

Failure…

Yet another thing to add to the list. He felt his eyes burn anew and this time he was unable to stop the wetness from spilling over as his breath caught. He swiped desperately at his face in an attempt to stop them, but it was too late. Gilan would have every right to be disgusted with him, he knew. Will couldn't keep himself from flinching as Gilan, careful in his movements, opened the cabin door and stepped inside.

"Will?" Gilan said, alarmed as his quick eyes took in everything about the destroyed room before settling back on Will. "What happened?"

Will couldn't bring himself to answer past the lump in his throat. He partially buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking and he tried once more to stop the silent tears.

Not receiving an answer, Gilan cautiously stepped closer on noiseless feet. Will flinched again, and felt his breath quicken in an ingrained response that he had as little control over as he did his tears. Gilan noticed and stopped short, spreading his hands and crouching down so he did not tower above where Will sat, instead leaving them at eye level.

"Are you hurt?"

The gentleness of his words startled Will enough to move his hands away from his face. Finding himself unable to speak, he merely shook his head.

"What happened then?" Gilan asked again.

Will searched his face. There was no disgust or anger in his eyes, nor pity either. In that moment, Will could only read concern and something deeply sad. Will felt the tension in his body start to unwind.

"I messed up," Will finally managed.

Gilan didn't say anything, merely tilted his head, a silent question, an invitation to elaborate. It was perhaps the complete lack of judgment in his expression that allowed Will to explain further.

"I kind of destroyed Halt's kitchen," he managed.

Gilan glanced around again at the mess, eyes thoughtful if not a little confused.

"That? It's easily fixed," he encouraged gently, a faint smile growing on his face. "I'm sure I've made far worse messes in my time. At the very least I don't see any fires or destroyed furniture."

But Will shook his head. "It's not just that."

Once again Gilan didn't say anything, only waited patiently for Will to explain, his expression stating plainly that he suspected as much.

"I wanted to use my day off to make something for myself," he said finally. He made an encompassing gesture towards the scattered ingredients, spilled flour and oil. "It's meant to be a cream cake. Jenny gave me the recipe when she saw how much I loved it. Eating them always made me happy when I was younger… and I've been craving it for so long–a taste of… home, I suppose. I've missed it…. I've always loved cooking and thought that it would be fun, that the challenge and the food might make me… happy again…

"But I couldn't do it. I got all the ingredients ready, started mixing them and then I just…. I'm so tired, Gil. What is wrong with me? I can't even get this right! I can't get anything right anymore!"

For a long moment, Gilan didn't say anything and Will was too wrung out to look at him, couldn't bear to see the disdain he might find.

"I promise it's not as bad as all that," Gilan said finally, the substance and gentleness of his words so opposite to Will's expectations that it startled him into lifting his head and meeting his gaze as he continued. "You were just missing an ingredient, is all."

"What ingredient?"

"Only the most important one: a friend to help you cook," Gilan replied cheerfully.

He lifted a hand carefully, outstretched, a question in his eyes and the tilt of his head. Will hesitated only a moment before he nodded permission. Gilan carefully placed his hand on Will's shoulder and Will gripped his forearm back, mouth quirking shakily against his will in response to Gilan's infectious smile. He felt moisture once again filling his eyes, but not because of pain this time. He rose from his seat then, pulling Gilan into a full, tight hug. Gilan held him back, the weight of him as familiar as it was comforting.

"What do you say, should we try and rescue your cake together?"

Will looked up almost hopefully before his next thought made his face fall. He shook his head. "It's too late; I already missed my chance. My free time was only supposed to last until you came."

"What Halt doesn't know won't hurt him," Gilan said cheerfully.

That did not allay Will in the slightest.

"But he's Halt!" Will pointed out. "He'll find out no matter what! You know he will."

"Correction," Gilan allowed, smile still not dropping, "what Halt finds out won't hurt him–just us."

"What if I don't want it to hurt us either?"

"Where's your sense of adventure? No risk, no reward. I thought you wanted cake?"

"I did," Will said, allowing for a faint smile. "But I don't want to die to get it. No food is worth that much."

"Horace would be very disappointed in you for that kind of defeatist attitude," Gilan said, shaking his head in mock sadness. His eyes seemed to sparkle with that familiar mischief. "If Halt finds out, I'll just say it was for part of your Ranger training in cooking."

"And if he doesn't believe you?"

"Then this cake of yours better be delicious." Gilan grinned, unconcerned, flicking an idle hand to the side to punctuate his point, "to bring meaning to the suffering and all."

Will shook his head but didn't argue, finding himself just a little too caught up in Gilan's exuberance and his own craving to protest.

"Alright."

Together they moved to the table and kitchen, both setting themselves to cleaning the worst of the mess. It was somehow far less daunting a task now that he wasn't doing it alone. That finished, Will pulled the ingredients into better order and handed Gilan the sheet of paper with the recipe on it to look over. Gilan studied it quietly for a moment before he lowered the paper to look at Will, one eyebrow raised.

"Will… what kind of recipe is this?"

"It's Jenny's," Will said in immediate defense of his friend. "She's the best cook of the Ward, and Chub's best apprentice."

Gilan brushed that off with a dismissive gesture. "What I mean is, there are no measurements. How are we supposed to know exactly how much of each ingredient to add?"

Will glanced down at the recipe again, chewing his lip thoughtfully. He hadn't really considered that in the moment but, as he looked it over again more closely, he realized that perhaps Gilan did have a point.

"Jenny always said that cooking was a matter of the heart," he said, words reflective, "you just feel how much you need as it happens."

"I see," Gilan nodded sagely, more than a little disingenuously. "And if my deep feelings lead to too much salt being added, what then?"

"Won't happen," Will felt a grin spreading across his face. "You're not Halt."

Gilan threw back his head and laughed. "Maybe don't let him hear you call him salty if you value your life."

"Good thing he's not here then. What was that you said: what he doesn't know won't hurt him?" Will said, throwing Gilan's previous words back at him.

"So I did," Gilan agreed. "But I suppose that then begs the question. If not salt, just what will you be adding too much of? Capers? Since they are small, shriveled, and bitter? That sounds about right to me."

Will shoved Gilan playfully in the side, offended by the comment. "I am not that small anymore; I had my growth spurt recently," he said with dignity.

"Is that so?"

The bowl of flour Will was just about to reach for suddenly shot skyward as Gilan lifted it above his head and thoroughly out of reach. This left Will no other option but to leap awkwardly in an attempt to retrieve it… and inevitably falling short.

"You are not funny!"

"Caper," Gilan said sagely, and with an air of finality.

"I am not short, and I am not bitter!" Will ground out even as he tried again.

The smirk on Gilan's face turned into a full grin, one eyebrow raising. Will realized, a little belatedly, that his tone had indeed sounded more than a little bitter. He flushed, before consoling and defending himself in his mind by blaming everything on Gilan, who quite deserved it in his opinion.

Realizing he'd never be able to jump high enough to get the flour, he promptly set about applying himself and his skills to the problem the same way he would a particularly troublesome tree. He began to climb his so-called friend. The idea, while good in theory, did not stay that way in practice. It turned out to be far more difficult than he expected as Gilan was far less steady than a tree, on the account of wrestling movement and laughter. Their combined antics landed them both on the hardwood planks of the cabin's floor, nearly spilling the bowl of flour in the process.

Will was finally able to snatch it away from his new perch sitting atop Gilan's chest. Gilan's infectious laughter compromised his grip so there was not much struggle this time. Will took himself and his prize quickly back to the counter before his own laughter could make him drop it.

"Who knew capers could be so aggressive?" Gilan asked rhetorically as he scraped himself back up to his feet with a sad shake of his head.

"At least I'm not a gangly mushroom like you!" Will shot back as Gilan moved to join him once more. "One of those stupid thin-stalked ones with the shaggy cap that grow too tall for their weight," he ticked off on his fingers. "Completely ridiculous, and impossible to get rid of because they keep growing back like an infectious nuisance."

Gilan tilted his head in thought, consideration turning quickly to acceptance. "Seems only fair," he agreed, eyes practically sparkling with amusement at the unflattering comparison. "But you seem to have left out the part about being quite savory."

"I am never saying that about you!" Will declared fiercely, shoving again when Gilan appeared not to have been suitably subdued or chastened by the comment alone. "Are you going to help me or not?" he challenged.

Gilan put his hands up in surrender before taking up the recipe once more. The two worked in relative silence for a moment before Gilan broke it.

"Will, how big are Jenny's hands? I'm trying to work out what a 'pinch of nutmeg' would look like to her."

Will pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe just a little smaller than mine?" he said with a worrying lack of conviction.

“Right,” Gilan nodded, smiling softly at the uncertainty. “This may not taste exactly as you remember it.”

[uncanny-accuracy]

So About Alyss

Spoilers for all books, including the Early Years! You have been warned!

So first off, an apology. If this seems rushed or doesn't flow well, or there are errors of any sort, that's because I had to rewrite this two times after Tumblr decided to kill itself today.

So, without further ado, here we go.

So I've noticed that a lot of RA fans dislike Alyss, and for awhile I could sympathize with that. But then I began wondering: Why do I have such little respect for her?

And I think I've figured it out.

Alyss never gets a “big moment” where she has to use her wits and skills to pull off an enormous task or get herself out of a tricky situation.

Will has done it uncountable times - burning Morgarath's bridge, saving Evanlyn when she was captured in Skandia (with the help of the conveniently timed appearance of Horace and Halt), saving Alyss from Castle Macindaw, stopping a Scottish invasion by storming one of the best defensive positions in all of Araluen with 33 Skandians, one Knight, one Ranger, and illusions, etc.

Evanlyn has also had her moments. She saved, helped, and comforted Will when they escaped slavery. She stood by his side when he was drugged and dead on his feet. She stood by his side even after that, and she fought alongside him and Horace even when she still potentially faced death if she managed to survive the battle. She took down the Kyofu, or Terror. She went to Arrida to pay ransom for Erak, and when things went downhill and took a turn for the worst, she still held her own and showed her bravery and courage. She didn't even flinch when the executioner was swinging his sword towards her head!

And Horace killed Morgarath when he was just a first-year apprentice Knight. He's fought in many wars, and he sacrificed everything for Shirgeru and the Kikori when he barely knew them. He later goes on to become King, and he's a world renowned swordsman.

Halt is a war hero. He scaled the Mountains of Rain and Night to get info on Morgarath. He learned of the Wargals’ fear of horses, and he led a cavalry attack on them. He took down a cult with only the minor inconvenience of being poisoned. He's basically an indestructible tank.

Even Crowley had a big moment. Without him, Morgarath would be king. It was Crowley who began gathering info and trying to figure out how to stop him. He's the reason Halt became a Ranger, and without Halt, Morgarath would've won. Maybe Crowley didn't have a huge moment like some of the other characters, but his efforts were at least acknowledged and we have a decent understanding of his skill and dedication. We can respect him because we know he's hard working, just like the other characters.

But what has Alyss done?

Yes, she's done stuff. But what has she really done. Whatever she did do was so glossed over and was made out to be not a that big of a deal.

Alyss thought of a way to kill the Kyofu (which I had to look up because it was made unimportant again) executed her plan relatively well. She was courageous, but her courage was so short-lived. Afterwards, Flanagan made her out to be a scared little girl. And, I bet none of you could've told me what the animal was called, let alone what the animal was. That's because it was shoved aside and deemed unimportant.

When Alyss and Evanlyn made contact with the Hasanu and met Kona (which I had to look up again), Evanlyn, of all people, was the one who talked with Kona despite Alyss being fluent in Nihon-Jan. Alyss is a talented linguist, and yet Evanlyn is the one who does the talking? Talk about a waste. Also, in this scene, we also got more proof that Evanlyn is courageous and daring. And yet, what did Alyss do? She basically just sat and waited.

When she was trapped in Castle Macindaw, Flanagan made her play the Damsel-in-Distress card with Will. She played with a blue stone (that was magic, but still) and sat there for hours until he saved her (after she tried to kill him, but go off I guess).

When she went undercover as Hilde and infiltrated the Roamers in The Lost Stories to save Ebony (had to look through the book to find out what the group was called and to find Hilde's name because it was so glossed over), no one acknowledged her dedication. She took beatings and acted as a slave just to find Ebony, but Flanagan, once again, brushes this off.

My point is: Alyss could've been a great character, but all her “big moments” we're so glossed over. Like, honey, that's too much gloss, and it's blinding me. It's brighter than Jeffree Star’s highlighter. Tone it down, please.

Alyss is “modeled to perfection,” in a sense. “What are her flaws even?” I've found myself asking. After thinking for awhile, I can only name one single one, and it's not even a flaw anymore. It was her jealousy with Evanlyn, and she didn't even have a good reason to be jealous in the first place. Evanlyn was dating Horace, and Will had already denied her in the past. Not to mention, Alyss was dating Will at the time, and Will never showed signs of wavering to Evanlyn.

Like… honestly. Come on. Alyss could've been so great if she wasn't just shoved aside. If Flanagan would've put just a mere three more minutes into her character, she would've been badass and unstoppable, but he didn't. Her moments were thrown into the back of a storage shed and covered in dust.

Alyss is basically only there to be a love interest and help forward the plot when it's needed, and that's it. Flanagan could've had an amazing character, but he decided to ruin her and then kill her off instead.

And honestly? I'm pretty pissed.

Please feel free to add to this and/or start an argument on how Alyss could've been the best character ever and how Flanagan really fucked up.

[areiacannaid]

Ingredients

Chapter 2

Previous chapter:

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The low bluish light of twilight filtered gently through the windows of Halt's cabin by the time the cake was out of the oven and cool enough to eat. Will and Gilan sat at Halt's now clean table, each with a decent-sized slice in front of them.

Encouraged by the delicious smell, Will cut off a piece from his slice that was probably more than a little too large for his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully as the pleasant flavor rolled over his tongue, he could not help but smile through overstuffed cheeks. Judging by the all too amused look on Gilan's face, he probably looked like an overeager chipmunk.

"What's the verdict then?" Gilan asked, after having finished his own more sensibly-sized bite.

"It doesn't taste anything like Jenny's cream cakes," Will admitted, but found himself entirely unbothered by that fact. "But it's really good anyway and… I might just like it a little better, if I'm being honest," He grinned then felt his smile drop slightly as he thought about it. "Just don't ever tell Jenny I said that."

"My lips are sealed," Gilan said.

"Sealed enough that you won't finish your slice?" Will asked in a tone that was as hopeful as it was teasing.

"I think you should keep your hands on your own plate," Gilan shot back with a distinctly sharp edge to his grin.

"Some friend you are," Will pouted, convivial, before he turned his full attention back to his desert. It was only when his plate was mostly finished that he realized something.

"Halt's really not going to be happy if he finds out we had dessert for dinner."

"It's a special occasion." Gilan idly waved that off with the spoon he was using to eat with, the picture of unconcern.

Will raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you visiting qualifies as a special occasion."

"It got you cake for dinner, didn't it?" Gilan grinned easily back. "Sounds special to me."

Will rolled his eyes, but couldn't think of an objection to that—possibly because he didn't really want to object to it. Eventually, he just shook his head and scooped up one final oversized bite.

After their sort-of-but-not-really dinner, the two found themselves sitting outside on the veranda. The disquieting chill of the evening was offset by the comforting fragrance and warmth from steaming mugs in their hands. They just sat there, listening to the sounds of the night, gazing at the stars visible above the tree line and between the slowly scudding clouds. As the silence stretched between them, Will found his thoughts, unoccupied now by lighthearted ribbing or focused tasks, once again slotting back into familiar patterns.

It was as that happened that he had the belated realization that the past several hours had been the first time in many weeks that the exhaustion and pain had felt more distant. But he could still feel it at the edge of his consciousness, spurred on by thoughts that were already worming their way back into focus–the same thoughts he had been alone with for so long now. And in that silent moment, he found didn't want to be alone with them anymore, didn't want them to return as strongly as ever again.

Halt was Halt. Will knew his mentor cared about him and knew it was safe to tell him anything. But that didn't mean he always wanted to tell him everything. There were some things that were difficult to tell a mentor because it could give them a weightiness he didn't think he had the strength to bear—not as he was right now.

But the idea of telling a friend felt different, less consequential. And maybe Gilan could understand—maybe he already did in a way. Will debated silently with himself as the minutes spiraled off into the quiet night air. He took a slow sip of his drink, already growing tepid and no longer able to chase away the chill in the night or in his chest. The dark and the silence made him brave, or perhaps desperate, enough to voice the pain that had settled in him so deeply.

"Have you ever felt tired, Gil?" he asked, words small and uncertain.

"Once or twice," Gilan deadpanned. The grin that broke through at the end of that statement softened the sarcasm into playful teasing. "It is an unfortunate staple in our line of work."

Will allowed himself a smile at the joke, even as he realized he'd phrased himself poorly, left the ends too open. He shook his head and tried again.

"I don't mean tired in your body exactly, more like…" he trailed into silence unable to find the word he wanted.

"Your mind?" Gilan asked as the silence stretched long.

"Yes, but more than that… more like your everything, your… soul even?"

This time Gilan didn't answer right away. Instead, his hand moved to set his cup down on the verandah planks beside him, gaze fixed on the distant tree line.

"Once or twice," he said again eventually. This time, however, the words were softer, and serious, adding rueful tilt to a diminished smile. "Is that how you're feeling, Will?"

Will sighed, placing his head in his hands, frustrated fingers twisting and pulling at his hair. But he nodded.

"All the time now. I can't seem to escape it, no matter what I do and nothing helps." He bit his lip, feeling the tremor there. "I guess I thought that when I returned home everything would suddenly just be better… feel better. But the truth is that all it did was follow me here."

"Do you think," Gilan began gently, "that the problem is that you're expecting too much too fast? Sometimes things take longer to heal from than others. If you broke your leg badly, you wouldn't expect that you would be back on your feet the next day, or beat yourself up because you had to take many weeks to heal. Give yourself the time you need."

Will froze. He hadn't thought of it like that before, too caught up in the pain and thinking of himself as a disappointment for it. It was true… but it wasn't enough.

"I know you're right, at least logically, but I can't stop feeling that all I'm doing is falling behind, making myself even more of a useless failure than I already am."

"That isn't true."

"W-what…?" Will stammered.

Gilan hadn't raised his voice but Will was still taken aback by the sudden uncompromising edge to his words and the unfamiliar flat seriousness he could read in his eyes. His former line of thought was cut off and lost entirely in the wake of it.

"You are not a failure, Will. You never have been."

"You don't know that! You didn't see what happened in Skandia. You didn't see what I did… how much I let everyone down—how much I let myself down."

"But, Will, I don't need to: I see you now. You're here, alive, and so is the princess. You helped stop two wars and saved so many lives. That is nowhere near failure."

Will once again found himself reevaluating. He'd been so locked in self-recrimination that he hadn't considered looking at it the other way. At least, not since he and Evanlyn had decided with quiet defiance that neither of them would take back their actions at the bridge that had led to their capture—and so much had happened since then. Eventually, however, he shook his head slowly.

"Even if that's true, I still feel like I lost so much, like I failed myself. Things will never go back to how they were before."

"No," Gilan agreed honestly, "but that doesn't mean that after is guaranteed to be worse. The people who did this to you wanted to hurt you, destroy you. But you were stronger than they thought. You survived, and not only that, but you are getting back so many of the things they tried to take from you. Don't finish the job for them by thinking or speaking ill of yourself or by giving up now. Don't give them the satisfaction of getting what they wanted. Give it to yourself instead because you are the one who deserves it, Will."

Will worried at his lip as he considered it all, as he realized that nothing that Gilan had said had been untrue. Will had been hurt badly and was behind in his training because of it, but it was also true that taking time to heal wasn't a bad thing. There were more than a few times where he felt that he failed himself in Skandia, but it was also true he'd done many things right: helped protect his country, ended two wars, survived, and returned home. He'd gone through too much, and lost too much, to ever be the same as he had been again. But maybe it was also true that that wasn't inherently bad either. Perhaps, he thought then, it could be like the cake that he and Gilan had made. Maybe he didn't have the exact right ingredients in the exact right amounts and configurations, maybe he wouldn't ever have that again—but he still could find new ones, new ways, and make something different, but just as good. At least, that was what he hoped.

~x~X~x~

It was early in the evening two weeks later when Halt finally returned to Redmont. His arrival at the little cabin in the woods met by the sound of raucous laughter. The sound was so wildly out of place and contradictory to everything that had happened, and to Halt's own mood, that he was taken aback for a moment before he focused in on the two culprits in question. They were out in the yard, neither training nor working, but instead fooling around. Halt saw Gilan throw a flat open wooden disk or hoop, likely made from wood scraps. He sent it spinning towards Will who, instead of catching it, ducked down slightly and then stood up, timing it perfectly so that his head went through the disk's open middle as it came to a stop, resting on his shoulders—like a giant human-sized version of the ring toss game that was always at the Wensly Village harvest festival.

Will laughed as he pulled the ring from around his head. "That makes twenty-one for me and only twenty for you. You're never going to catch up!"

"Only because you haven't thrown it for me yet," Gilan called back.

"Except for the fact you're already a turn ahead of me," Will challenged—so, even if you get this one, you'll still be behind!"

"It won't be long until you slip up," Gilan jibed back.

Will threw the disk, but his throw went a little wide, causing Gilan to have to move to the side and then jump at an awkward angle to try and catch it. He nearly didn't manage it as it rebounded slightly off his head and he landed a little off balance. It ended up balancing precariously on the top of his head, on its inner edge, framing his face.

"It still counts," Gilan announced, the hoop wobbling precariously as he spoke. And his ridiculous appearance significantly didn't do much for his portrayal of authority, Halt thought.

Will clasped his sides, he was laughing so hard. He nearly missed Gilan's next throw, which wasn't the best on account of his own laughter. It went a little high and off course, landing finally in the branches of a nearby tree and sticking there.

"But that one doesn't!" Will said, still chuckling.

He sped up the tree after it and with the agility of a squirrel as Gilan watched from below. It was out where the branches were too thin to support Will's weight so he shook the tree branch, eventually succeeding in shaking the ring loose, where it fell, and landed amazingly on Gilan's head.

That brought out a chorus of cheers and renewed laughter from his two apprentices—one of whom was technically an adult who was behaving like a child. Halt shook his head, unable to decide whether to be amused, disappointed… or maybe relieved. It had been so long since he'd seen Will smile like that—laugh like that.

For months Halt had been caught up in the loss, worry, and aftermath of everything. He'd been stuck in a cycle of simply taking each day at a time. It had started to feel like walking along those old forest roads that had sunk so deeply in the dirt and dense foliage from time and wear, that everything became a dark tunnel: a path so deep and monotonous that the breaks where streams flowed and warm meadows grew were all but forgotten.

Will had been struggling badly these past few months and Halt hadn't been able to do anything but be there for him as best he could, feeling all the while that he wasn't doing enough, and that he didn't know the exact right thing to do to help his apprentice—if there indeed was set right thing to begin with. So, when he got called away by Crowley, the last thing he wanted was to leave Will without some form of support. And he'd hoped that maybe sending Gilan might help. Halt knew Will saw him like a brother, closer to a peer than a mentor. He'd hoped that might perhaps allow Will to open up to him... especially since he seemed unwilling or unable to voice the root of whatever pain it was that he still carried to Halt.

Looking at Will now, he hadn't realized just how much his heart had missed the sound of his laughter and his smile. He hadn't realized how much it mended things that had felt torn since Will's capture, how it whispered of hope. In truth, Halt was happy—more than happy to see both of his student's laughing again. Refusing to let those thoughts show on his face, however, he instead scowled as he came up silently behind them and cleared his throat.

"Halt," they both said sheepishly as they turned to face him, finally aware of, or acknowledging in Gilan's case, his presence.

"What exactly is this supposed to be?" he asked blankly.

Will's sheepish expression lasted only the few small moments it took for his excitement to overtake it. Now back on the ground, he sprinted the short distance needed to pull Halt into an embrace. The grizzled Ranger returned with equal warmth.

"You're back!" Will said with a smile

"I'm so glad you were finally able to notice," he agreed, deadpan.

"Sorry, got a little distracted," Will admitted, rubbing ruefully at the back of his head.

"I suppose that's Gilan for you," Halt noted in a way that he hoped conveyed the long-suffering inherent in that fact. Then he rounded quickly on said first apprentice, determined to stop the pleased smile he could see on the young man's face at the comment from growing any further. "That wasn't a compliment. Being so much of a nuisance that you can't be ignored is hardly an achievement."

"I'd say that depends entirely on the context, wouldn't you?" Gilan said with a grin.

"No, I wouldn't," Halt said flatly.

The dryness of his words, however, was contradicted entirely by his actions a few seconds later when he embraced him warmly in greeting too. He gave both a quick, almost unconscious once-over to make sure they were indeed alright before he took a step back, fixing them with a serious look.

"You still didn't answer my question as to what on earth you were doing?"

"It's just a new game that Gilan and I invented," Will said immediately, still smiling. "We haven't really thought of a name for it yet.

"A game?" Halt's eyebrow rose incrementally. "More importantly, how exactly is this game supposed to help your training or complete all the chores that need doing?"

Will shot Gilan a glance before he explained. "I actually finished all the chores already," he said, before hastily amending, "Well… actually Gilan and I finished them all this morning together."

"And your training and lessons?" Halt challenged.

"I finished those too," Will added with a hopeful smile.

"And besides, this game is great for training anyway," Gilan put in with a grin. "It's all about hand-eye coordination, speed, and accuracy."

"There was nothing about what I just saw that I would call accurate," Halt said flatly, folding his arms across his chest. "So help me, Gil, if I find you have done nothing but facilitate messing around the entire time I was gone, you'll be spending a week in that tree." He pointed to one. But he could not entirely keep the ghost of a smile from his face. There was no real heat in his words.

Gilan read it as easily as ever and he grinned, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Why not that tree?" he asked innocently, pointing to a different one.

"Because that one looks comfortable."

It was a response that made both of his apprentices smile. Halt felt his heart warm a little at the sight. They had a long road ahead of them still, Halt knew. But even a small step was something important.

"Since the two of you swear you've been so efficient lately, I hope at least one of you remembered to set some coffee to boil." The idea of sitting around the table with a warm drink to catch up on what had happened while they were apart was an appealing one, he decided then.