The Life of a Ranger, Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 5

   Errol walks into the dining room with bloodshot eyes. Gilan is sitting down, nursing a cup of coffee. "Want some?" He asks, lifting his coffee. Errol shrugs. "I don't know. I've never liked it before, but that was years ago." Gilan takes that as a yes, pours a cup, laces it with honey, and hands it to Errol. He takes it, and tries a sip. "Hmmm. It actually tastes pretty good." Gilan nods. "How's your wounds?" "They're already almost painless if I'm careful. I heal quickly, but I'm also accident prone. That never helps." "Ok. That's good. Ready for breakfast?" "I'm not really hungry." Ignoring him, Gilan walks into the kitchen, and comes out with some pancakes. He then watches Errol closely until he swallows the last bite. That takes an hour. Gilan takes Errol outside. "I am going to teach you the art of swords. Since you are injured, you will only be showed it, until you heal. Are you listening?" Errol nods. Gilan draws his sword. He shows a series of moves, defenses, and tricks an enemy might try. Errol observes him for hours. They take a break for lunch. After that, Gilan checks Errol's wounds, which are healing nicely. He gets Errol to scrub his dishes, wipe the table, sweep the floor, and cook his dinner. Errol does it all without complaints or expression. It's like he's just doing it automatically. Gilan has never seen him laugh, much less, smile. Although there was a bit of resistance at cooking. Errol ends up forgetting the salt, and burns his roast. It is clear that Errol is terrible at cooking. Yet, it's necessary.
   Errol sleeps peacefully that night. It probably has nothing to do with the sleeping medicine Gilan put in his coffee.
   One week later, Errol's wounds are healed enough for a change. "Now, Errol, can you go fill that water barrel over there with water, please?" It isn't a request. Two hours later, Errol is almost crawling up the hill, dragging a full bucket behind him. His arms feel like they dropped of with the water. He finally goes to Gilan and announces that he is finished. "Great!" Exclaims Gilan. "Now, I see a dusty floor and a dirty rug. I suppose you'll want do something about that." Errol sighs. It's going to be long day. Then Gilan sees that the firewood is low. And there's dishes again. And a tear in Gilan's cloak.
   That night, Errol collapses into bed. He doesn't think that his limbs are attached any more. Gilan takes one look at him, and leaves the medicine out. Big mistake.    Errol wakes up with a short scream. His head aching with memories, he bolts outside and hurls onto the ground. He lies there, exhausted at living. If only he would die right there and then. He gets up with a groan. After grabbing Gilan's saxe knife, Errol looks around and walks further into the woods. Once he's safely away, he bursts into tears gripping the knife.
   Gilan wakes up with a bad feeling. He grabs his cloak and weapons. He sneaks to Errol's door and peaks in. His heart stops. Errol isn't here. Then he realizes that his safe knife is missing. It clicks in his mind: the knife, Errol's lifeless expressions, his nightmares, his breakdowns. Gilan bolts out side and looks around. No sign of him, besides the mess near the cabin. He looks for footprints and finds them heading away from the cabin. Five minutes later, he finds Errol alone in a small clearing, gripping the knife. He's kneeling on the ground, quiet sobs shaking the small boy.
   "Why me?" Whispers Errol. "Why do I seem like such a mistake?" He positions the knife over his chest. He stiffens, preparing to drive the knife into his chest. Gilan starts to rush to intervene, but Errol pauses. He thinks. Sighing, he lowers the knife. Using the knife, he carves a cross in the ground. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" Errol whispers. Gilan walks over to Errol, and catches him as he suddenly faints.

Sorry that this chapter is a bit boring. I'll try better next time. Please comment.