Ranger's Apprentice One Shots

No, No, No, No --- Oh Gorlog!

On the third day after the bow lesson, Liam finally pulled him up onto his feet and shoved him forward to a caravan. Will's legs, from nearly twelve days of inactivity, felt like jelly, and instantly, he collapsed, unable to stand by himself. He grunted as he fell, and with his hands still tied behind his back, tasted dirt as he landed.

He squirmed to get up, but Liam just pulled his collar and put him right. Scowling, Will managed to keep his footing this time, and stumbled forward. He was led through camp, with the usual insults and cheeks spat at him, to a small caravan. Shoved into the open back, Will landed hard on his face, blood sprouting from his torn lips he bit down on as he fell.

He licked his lips, the metallic taste leaving a sharp feeling. Liam didn't say anything, but jumped in behind him and replaced Will's rope with chains, attaching those to the floor. Random planks of wood and other storage items littered the caravan floor.

"Where are they taking me?" Will said in a low growl.

Liam quickly looked at him. "Ludos."

"What are the Ludos?" Will asked for what seemed the dozenth time.

Liam frowned in sympathy and shrugged. "Me sorrying. I no know how to... translate."

Will sucked on his torn lip.

It wasn't long before camp was cleaned up. Bedrolls replaced either on the saddlebags or in the caravan, riders on their mounts, the fires out, and storage in the wagon. With all the belongings in with him, Will felt like he was sitting on horse feed. The smell of manure and grass got to him, making him wrinkle his nose, but he'd been in far worse smells, so he took it in tow.

"Can you loosen the bonds?" Will asked Liam, some hour into the journey. They'd been riding without speaking, for the most part. Occasionally, Liam would be barked an order from the front and he'd translate to Will, but otherwise, he let the silence stretch. The other men had no such care, though. While they rode, they rambled on in the other language, laughing and arguing. Liam eavesdropped, his frown deepening and eyes narrowing many times throughout.

"No. Shut up." Liam said, now.

Will opened his mouth to banter back, but Liam raised a finger to his lips. Then it dawned on Will that he was trying to listen. The words were too fast for Will to catch any sort of meaning.

This went on for some time. Will didn't dare ask more. He knew he was being led to some terrible fortune, as Liam's voice and tones gave that much away, but what the ludos were exactly, he still did not understand. And it began to drive him insane. His imagination ran wild — things to do with slavery, or being thrown in a dungeon (though he couldn't fathom why he would), or just plain torture. Were they going to try to extract information about the Corps from him? He didn't know if he could keep his oath in a situation like that.

The idea of being sold into slavery terrified him more than he could express. The idea of it reawakened traumas he'd worked on releasing in the past years. And though he had moved on considerably from three winters ago, some memories and traumas stay.

Finally, Laim spoke. It was when the men had taken a break, snacking and letting the horses respite. Liam leaned forward, appearing to check Will's bonds, but breathed in his ear, "They sell you—"

"Slavery?" Will said, his eyes widening. No. Please, no. No, please—

"Tace," Liam ordered. "Cum competitoribus tuis manere debes. Nisi solus lions, fight potes, consilia cum others excogitare, et maybe, maybe tantum, survives."