Blood, Sweat, and Hanon - A Ranger's Apprentice fanfiction

Chapter Thirteen - Will

"Again, but take it slower!"

Will does as he's told and plays the run yet again, almost painfully slowly.

"There," Halt says, jabbing his finger at the music. "That's where it happened. Try using your third finger there instead of your second. That will let you cross over much more efficiently. Go again."

Frowning in concentration, Will tries again, taking Halt's suggestion. It works. He grins, doing it a few more times to make sure it wasn't a fluke. Considering how hard the passage was for him before, it's almost laughably easy now.

"Good," Halt said. "That's enough of the Prokofiev for now. We have about ten more minutes. How's the Balakirev?"

Will makes a face. "Difficult," he says.

"And?" Halt says. "How far did you get through it?"

"First three pages," Will says. "Until the slow middle section."

Halt nods to himself. "Let's hear it. Take whatever tempo you need to to play steadily."

Will takes a deep breath and opens his music. It's been really challenging for him, and he's not sure he likes the piece, but he doesn't want to disappoint Halt.

Just to be safe, Will takes it extra slowly. A few moments later, he's glad he made that particular decision. Even at this tempo, his fingers are tangling and tripping up every few seconds.

He can't look at Halt when he's done. 

"Not bad," Halt says.

Will looks at him with shock.

"With a lot more practice, you might even reach mediocrity," his teacher adds.

Will isn't sure what mediocrity is, but he doesn't think it's good.

"Spend another few days on this part, getting it into your fingers, before you move on," Halt advises him. "Remember, an amateur practices until he gets it right. A professional?"

"Practices until he never gets it wrong," Will finishes glumly. 

Halt nods in approval, then glances at the clock. "I don't think there's anything else to work on, so I'll let you go early. I hear Griffin's assigned your class a research paper."

Will makes a face. "I'd really rather practice," he says.

Halt's expression doesn't change, but Will gets the distinct impression his teacher is amused.

"Believe me, Will," Halt says, "I'd really rather you practice than write an essay that chances are will have no lasting effect on your life, but you need to keep your grades up. Now shoo, and I forbid you to practice until you at least get an outline for your paper."

Will scrunches his nose up in protest, but obeys.

All the other classes are letting out just as Will comes out of Halt's office, and the halls are quickly filled with students carrying instruments and the sounds of chatter. Will carefully threads through the crowd, ducking to avoid getting hit by a wayward cello case. He sees Alyss going the other way, her violin case slung over her shoulder. It's too crowded for him to turn around and follow her, so he catches her eye and waves.

The past two weeks have been the busiest of his entire life. Will's learning how to balance a full load of schoolwork (Redmont's known for its academic excellence as well as its arts curricula) on top of multiple hours of practicing and daily music lessons. He hasn't eaten a meal sitting down in at least a week, and all he's seen of his friends have been in passing in the hallway. He doesn't even see George at night, because the violist has a late quartet practice and Will's usually asleep before he gets back to the dorm. 

He's watched as the people around him have gotten gradually worn down under the load of work they're carrying. He's seen Gilan's smiles gradually disappear, Jenny's exuberance fade away, Alyss grow tenser and tenser. He knows it's mirrored in him.

None of them would trade it for anything in the world. This chance to learn music from the best, among the best, is one in a million, and it's worth all the challenges and stressors that it brings.

Someone grabs his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. Will turns to see Gilan behind him, a rare grin on his face.

"Come on, Will!" he shouts. "Quick meeting in my practice room."

Will shrugs and follows him. Gilan leads him down the hallway of practice rooms, past Will's, and stops at a door at the end of the hallway. Alyss, George, and Jenny are all waiting outside. Gilan digs in his pocket for his key card and unlocks the door, holding it open for the others. When they're all inside, he closes it, leaning back against it.

Alyss sets down her violin case and sits down on the piano bench next to Jenny, and Will and George lean against the walls on opposite sides of the baby grand piano.

"I suppose you guys are probably all wondering why I called this meeting," Gilan says, folding his arms across his chest.

Alyss glances at her watch, and then at George. "Gilan, we love you and all, but could you please get to the point quickly? George and I have to get to orchestra."

"Fine," Gilan pouts. "Ruin my dramatics, why don't you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper.

He unfolds it, smoothing out the creases, and reads aloud, "First Annual Redmont Conservatory Original Ensemble Contest. Any number and combination of instruments and voices in ensembles, playing original compositions, will compete for a cash prize. The overall winning ensemble will be featured in the end-of-year Talent Showcase."

"It sounds like fun," Will says, "but do we have time? And more importantly, we don't have music."

"It's well worth it, Will," George says. "Do you know how hard it is to get into the Talent Showcase? Hundreds of students audition for only twelve spots. And being in the Talent Showcase is an incredible opportunity. Lots of Conservatory alumni attend, including some of the greatest composers, performers, and musicians in the world. And there are flocks of talent scouts."

"That's all fine and dandy," Alyss says, "but Will has a point. Who's going to compose for our ensemble?"

"I will," Gilan said. "Let's see - two pianos, violin, viola, and percussion? What could possibly go wrong?"

Will gapes at him. "You're a composer?"

Gilan shrugs. "Yeah," he says. "I've been in honors composition for the past two years, and one of my pieces won second overall in the annual Conservatory composition competition."

"Well, let's do it!" Jenny says excitedly. "I think it sounds like fun!"

"When's the competition?" Alyss asks warily. "Because I have orchestra music AND unaccompanied Bach AND Sibelius violin concerto AND Paganini to get ready for preliminary auditions for the Junior International."

"Two weeks from today," Gilan says cheerfully. "I'll have the music ready in a few days, and we're all advanced enough musicians that it shouldn't be too hard to put together. Now get out, I have to practice."

He goodnaturedly shoves the others out and shuts the door. Their protests fall on deaf ears.

Alyss scowls. "Great," she says. "More work. Just what I needed." She stomps off down the hallway toward orchestra, George trailing after her.

Jenny glances guiltily at Will. "I have to go to math class," she says apologetically, and darts away.

Suddenly alone again, Will glances at his watch. He has an hour and a half of downtime until he has to be at Halt's office again for his supervised practice hour, and he has a sinking suspicion that Halt won't let him anywhere near a piano until he produces a finished outline. He knows better than to try to practice anyway. Halt has a sixth sense when it comes to his students and would more than likely appear and bust him within five minutes of practicing.

Will sighs and heads toward one of the study areas in the main hallways.