Authoress Note: My first attempt at Ranger's Apprentice and whatnot. Experimenting with my newest obsession; just a oneshot that might become a series. Times vary.

An enormous thank you to "Elfpen" for her amazing beta-skills. She's like a ninja! She was so fast I almost got a whiplash! Just kidding, but she smoothed out the kinks and I owe her a lifetime of gratitude! She's volunteered (shockingly) to beta the next chapters, as well.

The castle's kitchen was not a place Halt often found himself. In fact, he'd only been there once before — and that must have been around ten years ago. The heat from the ovens and the 'cheerful' attitude of Master Chubb had kept him away for the better part of a decade. The kitchen windows were kept wide open to vent out the overwhelming smells. The floor was stone — wood rotted quickly in humid temperatures, and Master Chubb had been adamant about keeping his kitchen mold-free. The countertops were stone as well. Multiple stoves, ovens and washing basins filled the room.

Despite all of this, the room felt barren and empty. The dishes had been washed and stacked, the food wrapped and stored, and the counters and floors wiped clean. Halt's face remained impassive, but a faint twitching of his eyebrow relayed his annoyance. He could hardly see anything wrong with the mess hall. The fact that he hadn't been here in years grated at him heavily. Anything out of the ordinary would most likely be missed in his visual sweep of the room.

Earlier in the week, Arald had approached Halt by Master Chubb's persistence. The Chef claimed to have a thief in his midst, and each day something highly expensive would go missing. Food, of course, not material items. An intricate cake left gaping with a large slice-shaped hole, a few muffins disappearing from their basket, and, on occasion, whole batches of cookies vanishing in a matter of minutes.

Not that it mattered to Halt entirely. He honestly could see no reason why he was here. It irritated him that he was left on guard duty when his skills could be used elsewhere.

In the hours of dusk, Halt knew nobody was foolish enough to come creeping down the halls. The castle was heavily guarded in the late hours of the day and anybody suspicious would find themselves immediately ejected from the castle. It might be easy for spies or assassins to slip in when the relaxation of evening struck Redmont Fief, but the kitchens were on the third floor, too high up for somebody to spring through the open windows, and it would be suicide to even try to climb through the window with a ladder.

Convinced that Master Chubb was paranoid over a few unhealthy snacks, Halt was about to edge towards the door when something caught his eye. Instantly he looked out the open window, freezing in place as he tried to make out the movement. The Araluen sunset was doing nothing to help him. Shadows were stretched and darkened, and he could vaguely make out the drainage pipe by the window. It had been unused for years, as Master Chubb — as kindly as he was — refused anybody access to the latrine near the kitchen. Contamination, he reasoned. Accidentally poisoning the Baron would simply not do.

He was sure the movement had come from there. Could it have been a simple bird? Or a leaf? No, the flash of movement had been pale, and as of yet the Pepper-Necked Doves hadn't migrated from the South. Then, something more unbelievable than he could have imagined: a small hand curled around the top of a damaged drainage pipe. Following the hand was an elbow, hooking over the metal and hauling a small body through the opening. It was a boy! Halt frowned in disbelief. A thin, fragile-looking boy had climbed three-stories up through a drainage pipe. Halt tried to imagine himself inching through the pipe, and found he couldn't. The boy's face came together in a fierce look of concentration (complete with the tip of tongue in the corner of his mouth) as he gave a final heave that gave him the leverage he needed to pull himself up over the ledge.

Halt watched in interest now. It looked like his thief had been caught. But there was something in the way the boy looked — the build of his body, the severe concentration, the silent moving — that held Halt in place. The evening shadows concealed the boy's movement almost entirely, and the grizzly Ranger realized that he had developed the skill of silent movement and invisibility. It almost looked instinctual.

The boy's arm extended towards the windowsill. Fingers gripping the wood frame firmly, he managed to carefully haul himself through the opening without so much as a sound. Like a frog, the boy pushed-off the pipe with his feet and lightly tumbled through the window. Halt could feel something bubbling inside him. A feeling he had never felt before outside of the presence of a select few, such as Crowley or Arald.

Respect. Vague, but there.

The boy quickly scuttled from the window, eager to get away from the openness. As the twilight shadows drew away from the face, Halt narrowed his eyes at the thief and took note of the features. Close-cropped brown hair and big brown eyes. His skin was fair, and Halt noted with curiosity that the boy's nose was straight — not bearing the crookedness most boys his age had. Obviously he wasn't a fighter. He was a stalker. The silent-approach suited him. A smile tugged on Halt's lips.

The Ranger watched as the boy crouched low to the ground and skillfully maneuvered across the floor behind a counter. A minute ticked by, and the boy almost managed to remain as frozen as the Ranger who watched him. No sound greeted the kitchen, and, satisfied that he hadn't been caught, the boy slinked towards another window. Halt followed his gaze and saw the tray of sweetcakes cooling on the sill. How had the boy managed to eat so many sweets and remain skinny as a twig? Obviously he did a lot of climbing. He'd pay special attention to this boy hereafter. Who knows where he had been and gotten his hands on?

Carefully lifting the metal tray — not to make the cringe-worthy grating noise every thief hated — the teenager smirked and ghosted back to his entrance-window. Quiet he might have been, but Halt could hear the slight drag of his feet across the stone. He was careless now, walking across the kitchen with confidence. Foolish.

As quickly as it happened, the pale youth was already through the window. His brown hair ruffled in the breeze as he peered below. Halt could see him roll his eyes, and he barely made out the boy's mumble before he disappeared, back through the drainage pipe while curiously holding the tray with both hands. It was going to be a painful trip down, Halt thought. That pipe plummeted straight down.

But the boy was correct. Hardly anyone ever looked up.

It was the next morning when Halt made his way through the castle. The episode last evening still fresh in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder about the boy. Who was he? How had he managed such an impossible task? The Ranger had thought of it the entire night. He was thoroughly intrigued, though a tad disappointed. To see a boy of such talents stoop to thievery was disconcerting. Without proper discipline, he could prove to be a problem in the future.

It was because of this that Halt made his way towards the kitchen. Master Chubb had to know of his discovery, and maybe he could catch the boy in the act next time. The Chef was known for his very painful spoon-laden right hook. That ought to whip him into shape, Halt thought. He'd never been on the receiving end of the ladle — nobody would dare to look at a Ranger much less hit him with a wooden spoon — but the complaints had been painful and the massive bruises that followed had Halt grinning in anticipation. There was nothing like catching a person in the act that cheered him up more.

A loud clamor from the east-wing drew his attention. It was Master Chubb's voice, bellowing through an open doorway. Halt raised an eyebrow and strode into the library, quickly liberating into the shadows before anybody noticed him.

Four children — all about the same age — were seated around a large circular table, two blonde girls and two dark-haired boys. They all wore very different expressions on their faces —the largest boy's shoulders were shaking as he tried to contain his mirth; the round, blonde girl looked disapprovingly at him; the other boy gave the scene a curious glance; and the second blonde glared mercilessly at Master Chubb.

Halt noted with interest that the boy from last night was at the receiving end of the chef's rage. He looked stoic, but his face clearly showed shame. Halt was tempted to step forward and give the boy leverage, but he contained himself. Master Chubb began his tirade over again.

"So you're telling me you have no idea how my tray ended up in your quarters?"

The boy pursed his lips, refusing to answer. His gaze stayed glued to his feet as Master Chubb's fingers tightened around his wooden spoon.

"Are you going to lie to me? Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" Halt could tell the chef wanted to thwack him on the head for being disrespectful. He smirked when he realized the man was reining his strength for when the boy would admit his burglary.

The boy looked up, shame clouding his features again. Swallowing, he opened his mouth and spoke aloud. "No, I'm not going to lie, sir."

A palpable silence followed. This must not happen often, Halt thought, his gaze flickering to the intent faces of the other children. It was obvious they were friends, but their concern and curiosity was thick in the air. It was a polite silence, none of them entirely too interested. Except for the large boy, whose snickers were becoming louder with every second that passed.

Master Chubb confirmed the statement. "So you did take them?"

There was a slight change in the atmosphere, and Halt could see the determination and self-pride growing on the boy's expression. With a deep breath and tightening of lips, the thin boy nodded.

The cracking whip that followed made Halt wince. As the boy's head jerked to the side, he saw Master Chubb's shoulder's heave with fury. One of the girls gave a small gasp as a bright red mark started to form across the boy's cheek. The chef blundered out of the room, but not before threatening the brown-haired-boy with the ever-clichéd 'If I ever see you in my kitchen again I'll report you to the Baron' speech.

The boy impressed him. Skilled with invisibility and honest. Perhaps, Halt thought, this boy wasn't a delinquent after all - Merely bored. The round girl rushed forward and spoke in low, worried tones. "Are you alright, Will?"

Halt frowned. The name sounded eerily familiar, and somehow brought back memories of the battle against Morgarath thirteen years ago. Swords clanging, men screaming, and… The young luitenant, Daniel, saving his life. With a start, Halt realized the boy was the orphan. Daniel's orphan. Somehow the thirteen-year-old looked much bigger than the wrapped, swollen bundle Halt had been given all those years ago, though the teenager was still abnormally small at present. He'd actually never counted on seeing Will again, and it brought a strange warmth to his chest to know the sickly baby had grown up to develop a useful talent.

Halt came back into the present, his eyes focusing as the boy ignored his wound and smiled at the girl. "I'm fine," he said, and retreated back to the table. The bigger boy let loose a round of laughter loud enough to rival an elephant. The others glared disdainfully at him, and silently returned to their work.

The boy was uncanny, he thought. Odd, how after all these years they'd reunite over cakes and sweets.