"Thrust! Overhand! Cross parry! Backhand side! Side cut! Overhead backhand! Shield block! Backstep!" Sir Rodney called out the drills in random order.

Gilan performed them with ease, and Rodney continued.

"Thrust! Thrust! Cross parry! Backstep! Side cut! Overhead backhand!"

Before long, Gilan got tired, and his head was beaded with sweat. Sir Rodney noticed and went faster. "Shield block, backhand side, thrust,  upperhand, overhand, thrust, overhead backhand, shield block, backstep!"

Gilan struggled to complete the backstep.

"Side cut!" Rodney suddenly yelled.

Gilan stumbled as he delivered the side cut. Sir Rodney nodded his approval. "Not bad," he praised.

Gilan smiled and nodded slowly.

"Halt," Rodney faced Halt who was watching under a tree. "He's quite good!"

Halt rolled his eyes. "He's my apprentice. He had to be good, or I wouldn't have taken him."

Gilan laughed.

"I take it back. He's not good."

Gilan marched up to Halt with a glint in his eyes. "Now now Halt. Don't forget, I saved your life once."

Halt grumbled something under his breath and started back for his cabin. He mounted Abelard, and called back to Gilan. "Hurry up, Gilan!"

He grinned and looked at Sir Rodney. "I'll see you in a few days!" Gilan said before running after Halt. "Hey," He yelled. "Halt! Wait up."

>>>------------->

After lunch, Halt took Gilan outside. In his hands was a sack. Gilan really wanted to know what was in the sack.

"What's in there?" He asked.

Halt made no answer as he started to set up targets.

"Halt."

Still no answer.

"Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt."

Halt sighed and looked back at Gilan. "Patience is a good trait for a ranger."

Gilan huffed in disappointment, but it soon disappeared as Halt reached his hand into the sack.

And pulled out- a weird looking bow.

The beautiful carved weapon shined in the afternoon sun. There was a curve formed in the middle, making it look very flexible.

"This is a recurve bow," Halt said. "It's what our apprentices use in place of a longbow."

"Why don't I get a longbow?"

Halt looks at Gilan. "I told you. Because all ranger apprentices use a recurve bow," he dryly said.

Gilan crossed his arms.

"A recurve bow has a higher power for a lower draw weight," Halt explained. "You do not have the strength to pull the string of a longbow."

Halt handed the bow to Gilan, who trailed his hand across the smooth wood and thin string. "Can I shoot it?"

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

Gilan nodded with excitement. "Definitely!"

Halt reached into the sack and retrieved a quiver. He dropped some arrows in it and handed it to Gilan.

Gilan smiled as he took an arrow and set it on the string. He closed an eye and looked at the nearest target.

Strum!

The sound of the bow as it released it's arrow filled the air, but there was also another sound.

"Owwww!" Gilan moaned as he rubbed his forearm.

"Stop complaining," Halt ordered.

"But Haaaaaalt."

"Shut up, Gilan."

"Fine, fine," Gilan pouted. "But you knew that would happen."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You're not a bit surprised," Gilan explained.

"You don't know that," Halt crossed his arms. "I barely show any emotions."

"Fair enough," Gilan sighed, "what did I do wrong then?"

"Nothing," Halt bluntly said.

"But I thought-"

"You're an apprentice," Halt started. "You're not ready to think."

Gilan closed his mouth and looked down at the green grass.

"When I say nothing, I mean everything." Halt continued. "Now, figure out what happened."

Gilan looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. He looked at the red mark on his right forearm and looked at the bow. "The bow string burned my arm," Gilan concluded, noticing that Halt had an arm guard on his right forearm. "It happens to you too, but you have a guard, so the string doesn't touch your skin."

Halt nodded and pulled out an arm guard from the sack. Gilan slipped it on and pulled out another arrow.

The first arrow hadn't gone very far. It was a couple of feet in front him.

Setting the arrow on the string, he aimed.

"Don't hold the arrow with your thumb and index finger," Halt said. "Use your index and middle finger instead."

Gilan made the quick change and let the arrow go. It went farther this time, but it didn't match Halt's skill.

"We'll work on your strength and aim later," Halt said pulling out a double knife scabbard out and handing it to Gilan. He then pulled out a large knife. "This is a saxe knife. It's both weapon and tool," he explained. "A sea axe originally, but over the years, the words slid together."

"I thought rangers didn't do close combat," Gilan said taking the saxe, immediately seeing it's balance.

"We usually don't. But if things get close, I would prefer having a knife. Wouldn't you?"

"I guess," Gilan muttered, slipping the knife in the double knife scabbard. "What's this other space for?" Gilan asked, noticing that the scabbard was made for two knives.

"That," Halt held a smaller knife in his hand, "is for this. A throwing knife."

Gilan took it and saw that the blade was an outward taper followed by a sudden inward taper. It was quite balanced. He looked at Halt, "Can I throw it?"

Halt nodded.

Gilan held the knife by the hilt as he pulled his arm back for the throw. He focused on a target and threw it.

The knife spun many times before hitting the target- with the hilt rather than the blade and slid down to the grass.

"Do you know what time it is now?" Halt asked.

Gilan walked over to retrieve the throwing knife, knowing exactly what the answer is from his hard training sessions with MacNeil.

"Practice?"

Halt nodded. "Practice."

A/N:

Happy holidays everyone! Hope you have a great time.

And I also turn one year older. Yes, it is my birthday. Happy birthday me!

"From the moment you are born, you are slowly dying."

My orchestra teacher said this. I thought it was a good way to think about dying. I don't even know how we got to that topic.

What did you think of this chapter?