Epilogue
Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice.
Everyone had been taken by surprise at how remarkably quickly Gilan had recovered. He was allowed to travel back to Araluen on the same day as Rivva. Not one to be idle, Gilan spent a week with his parents in their home, before resuming his work for Old Bob. After a short time, he was able to resume his duties as Ranger of the Meric fief under the local Doctor's watchful eye. Rather than moving into his old cottage, he stayed with Bryn's family, as no-one thought it wise for him to be living alone and isolated.
As it happened, Gilan quite enjoyed the time he spent there. Although Bryn and Elaine took careful note of all the Doctor's orders and enforced them if necessary, they didn't fuss over him incessantly as Halt and his parents had. Their evenings were pleasant, some quiet, others full of mirth and laughter.
On one such evening, whilst Bryn and Elaine were taking a long stroll in town, Gilan lounged in front of the fire, thoroughly engaged in a conversation with young Rivva about Old Bob's ponies. Their discussion was interrupted by two rather impatient knocks on the door, before it swang open. Gilan jumped to his feet, nimble as he ever had been, feeling a rush of pleasure when his vision didn't swim and no dull throb assailed him. A grizzled Ranger roughly shut the door behind him, hanging his cloak on the rack. "Well, Gilan," he grimaced. "Hope you've managed to stay out of trouble. Are you feeling much better?"
"Yes, actually," Gilan grinned, moving to greet his old mentor. "I'm as fit as I ever was, would you believe."
"No," replied Halt gruffly. "You've recovered remarkably. I spoke with your Doctor before I came here, else I wouldn't believe it." Gilan scowled at this, but held his silence. "But you're certainly not as you were before – before all of this."
"So, apart from wishing to liaise with my Doctor behind my back, why are you here?" Gilan asked, slightly impatiently.
"Would you like me to brew some tea?" Rivva interjected politely. "Or… coffee?" She scrunched up her nose, remembering the foul-smelling drink the Rangers seemed to prefer.
Halt turned to the girl, shooting her one of his rare smiles. "Tea would be lovely, thank you, Rivva," he replied. "Do you have chamomile?" He jerked his chin towards his former apprentice. "He needs his sleep."
Gilan rolled his eyes, exchanging a helpless glance with Rivva. She stifled a giggle. Gilan had been on many a rant concerning the overbearing fussiness of the seemingly distant, icy Ranger.
"She doesn't drink coffee, does she?" Halt murmured to his former apprentice.
Gilan shook his head. "She's twelve, Halt. I'm quite sure Bryn and Elaine wouldn't approve."
"Hmmm," Halt replied. "Well, I think I shall have to speak to them then. Tea is fine if she's to be a Courier, but if she has higher aspirations…"
Gilan laughed. "Why are you here Halt?"
To Gilan's surprise, a flicker of something akin to nervousness crossed over Halt's face. "Oh," he replied gruffly. "I'm here to deliver an invitation. I thought I'd come and deliver it in person."
"An invitation!"Gilan's eyes widened in surprise. "What kind?"
"A wedding invitation," Halt answered, handing Gilan a silver envelope. "To my wedding. Mine and Pauline's. There's one here for your host family as well."
Gilan grinned, enveloping his disgruntled mentor in a bear hug, finally releasing him as Rivva entered the room, bearing three mugs of chamomile tea.
"Rivva!" Gilan exclaimed. "When did you last attend a wedding?"
Rivva's ears reddened. "Congratulations, Ranger Halt," she smiled, having heard a large amount of the exchange from the kitchen. "It was – it was Elaine and Bryn's wedding actually." The newlyweds had officially adopted Rivva on that day, although Elaine had taken her in a long time beforehand.
"Now," laughed Gilan, "how shall we celebrate? Perhaps I can buy you a few drinks in the local tavern?"
Halt soured. "Both you and I have gotten into serious trouble as a result of alcohol-related incidents," he replied, clasping his former apprentice on the shoulder. "And your doctor says you mustn't drink for a while, yet. Let's go hunting, instead."
"You hate hunting," Gilan replied.
"And you've never been one for drinking." Halt flashed a smile. "I think, perhaps, we needn't worry about finding a conventional means of celebration. Let's go for a long ride tomorrow. Abelard might be getting on, but I'm willing to bet he's still faster than your Blaze."
Gilan grinned, turning to Rivva. "I'd take him up on his bet, if I were you, Rivva," he said. "He'll lose his money, mark my words."