Ranger's Apprentice; The Final Pieces

A very merry Christmas

Gilan frowned thoughtfully. "Sounds like he's just a bit afraid. Maybe he feels like he cannot have fun until he is just as good as he was before Skandia. Maybe he just needs some time."

"It's been three months, Gilan. Skandia or not, he has to continue his apprenticeship, but that's not going to happen if he continues like this. I honestly don't dare to give him new work now. He's capable of wearing himself out until beyond acceptable." Gilan could tell that his mentor was indeed worried. His voice, his stature, the looks outside to where Will was cleaning up.

"Have you tried talking to him?" he asked carefully.

"I did, multiple times. I tell him how I feel about it, and tell him that I want him to take it a bit easier, and he nods and agrees. But then he continues in the exact same way." Halt turned around to the little kitchen in the corner of the room. While he made coffee, Gilan hang his his green-grey cloak over a chair and sat down. He tapped with his fingers on the edge of the wooden table, not knowing what to say. After a minute or so, the bitter scent of fresh coffee spread through the room. Halt turned back around, three big cups of the brown liquid.

"I'm glad you're here, though. I'm going to the Castle tonight and I was a bit hesitant to leave him alone, you know. Don't want him to overpush himself."

Gilan nodded and dropped a spoonful of honey in his cup.

"Should I try and speak to him, later today?"

Halt copied his former apprentice habit and also dropped some honey in his coffee.

"I was hoping you would. Maybe he'll listen to you."

Before Gilan could reply, Will entered the room. Gilan examined him curiously as he sat down and accepted a mug of warm coffee from Halt.

The boy looked tired, with dark wings under his eyes. Gilan doubted it if he slept well. He finished his cup in a matter of seconds, without any honey added to sweeten it.

"I'm taking Tug out," he said. Gilan met Halt's gaze, but couldn't think of a reason why the boy shouldn't.

"Alright," he said, "I'll be here when you return."

And he was, when Will returned, an hour or so later. He sat at the comfortable couch, reading some documents Halt had given him.

"I already made diner," he said, as a way of greeting. Will nodded thankfully.

"I'll first shoot a few more arrows and then -"

Gilan looked up from the papers, his eyes hard.

"No, Will, you're not. You're going to sit down, have dinner and then go to bed.
You cannot tell me you've had a good night's sleep since you returned," he added, preventing Will from replying. His young friend looked at him, bow in his right hand. Gilan saw a mixture of anger and despair in the dark brown eyes. After swallowing a few times, Will said: "I still need to regain what I lost... there."

"That doesn't mean you should practice every hour of the day! Seriously, Will, you're pushing yourself way too much."

"How am I to get better without practicing, practicing and practicing?" Will's voice started to sound desperate, Gilan noticed.

"The secret of getting better is to focus all of your energy, not on the improving and fighting the old, but on building the new. There is no use in practicing what you used to do, sometimes it's best to begin again," he said wisely. But it didn't have the right effect.