Seize the Day: {FanFiction Competition 08-30-19}
Jul 28, 2019 15:58:14 GMT -5
Arkos and robsan like this
Post by elkifasi on Jul 28, 2019 15:58:14 GMT -5
Hey People! You might be interested to know that I plan to write a story about Thomas (at some stage) Updates will be slow but I'll get them done. Officially, this story is now finished. The story about Thomas will continue where this left of (or maybe soon after) but it will be a separate story and will be posted as such.
By the way, I don't own Ranger's Apprentice or any of the characters or places therein.
~T~T~T~
“Name?” the sergeant asked, dipping his pen in the ink in preparation for the new comer’s answer.
“Steven Wielfex, Sir. Archery.” Steven added, forestalling the sergeant’s next question.The man grunted and leafed through the pages till he found the one for archers, then wrote the his name down.
“Welcome to the army. Go to tent…” he paused to consult his notes, “four, column seven.”
Steven nodded, “Thank you, Sir.” He said with a smile before turning round and leaving.
He walked down the neat rows of tents until he found number seven, then turned and headed for the ‘4’ sign painted on a stake beside one of the tents.
As he entered, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light and to take in what he guessed would be his home for the next few months.
It was a simple room with two bunks along the opposite wall, a low table and four chairs.
Steven grunted in appreciation of the comfortable place. It was a testament to the fact that King Duncan looked after his men. True, the place wasn’t exactly lavish but it wasn’t stingy either.
He dumped his gear on one of the two empty beds before digging through his bag to find the letter he’d received from his two youngest children.
We all really miss you but we’re doing ok. Another tree fell over so
Malachi chopped it up for firewood. Mum’s been really tired so Sara’s
been doing all the cooking and we do the cleaning. We played on the
rope courses the other day and We dropped a bucket of water on
Malachi’s head, then while he was distracted, we threw stay-with-me
vines on him. It took him a while to get free but when he did, he was
laughing and he told us that he’d get us back.The baker’s gone so we
make our own bread with flour we buy from his shop.
Malachi’s shown us how to set up traps for wild game and it’s my job
to check the snares every afternoon to see if anything’s been caught
yet. We caught two rabbits yesterday and had them for dinner with
herbs and veggies. They were delicious and I asked if we could have
rabbit every day but Malachi said we should eat a variety because
rabbits aren’t very fat. Which was a bit strange because when he was
skinning the rabbits he said that they were nice fat ones. Sara’s made
apple crumble for pudding and dinner’s ready now so bye.
Love from Reuben and Joe.
He looked up as someone else entered the tent, paused to look around and then dumped his stuff on the last empty bed.
“Hello. What’s your name?” Steven asked cheerfully, standing up to greet the newcomer.
The other man chuckled, “Gone blind have you Steven? That might be a problem if you’re in the archery unit.”
Steven’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice. “Thomas! Good to see you, how’s the family?”
Thomas scrunched his nose thoughtfully, “Not too bad, yours?”
Steven grinned. “They’re good. Eating well, apparently. Sara’s been baking again.”
Thomas nodded appreciation, “That daughter of yours is as fine a cook as I ever saw. If she ever wants a job, my bakery would profit well from her services.”
Steven smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. I think at the moment, she’s got her hands full. Three brothers is a lot to manage.”
Thomas gestured to Steven’s bed, “I take it you only just got here?” he asked, judging by the unpacked gear.
Steven nodded, “Yeah, ‘bout five minutes ago. I was going to do some practice first, then unpack.”
Thomas nodded vigorously, “Good idea! I should get some practice in too. It would be helpful to actually have an archer to protect, that way I get the timing right.”
Steven picked up his bow and slung the quiver of arrows over his back. “Let’s go then shall we?”
~T~T~T~
Steven let his arrow loose and immediately crouched so that he was completely covered by his friend’s shield as it slid into place in front of him.
“We’re being watched.” He told the baker casually, stepping clear and moving to retrieve his arrows.
All were clustered in the two center rings save two which were in the third to center.
Steven scowled at the offending arrows as he yanked them free, dropping them smoothly into his quiver.
“Where?” Thomas asked, about to look around in search of their stalker.
Steven stopped him. “Don’t. If you look around, it’ll be pretty obvious that we’ve noticed him. Better to take him by surprise. I’ll shoot to the left of him, then you can look after the arrow.”
Thomas nodded and they headed back to their starting point.
Steven drew an arrow from his quiver, aiming it at the closest target and drawing it back. At the last second, he changed his aim, shooting forty five degrees to the right of the target.
Looking in that direction, they saw a slight movement to the right of the arrow.
“Ranger.” Steven said quietly, moving to retrieve his stray arrow.
“Ullo, Ranger!” he called out loudly as he neared the spot his arrow had landed and saw it pinning the hem of the Ranger’s cloak down. “So sorry ‘bout that. My archery needs work. I ‘ear you folk are quite good at archery. Mind giving me a few poin’ers?”
The Ranger didn’t move and Steven moved closer to him. “Are you alright Ranger? I didn’t ‘it you, did I?”
He peered down at the prone form, then started as it moved suddenly.
“You’re not fooling me. Quit the accent, will you?” The Ranger asked, fixing Steven with a grim stare.
Steven grinned cheerfully, making no sign he’d noticed the Hibernian lilt to the other man’s words, “Steven.” He told the other man.
The Ranger nodded, “Halt.” He replied with a dangerous glint in his eye, warning the other man not to question his identity.
Steven’s surprise only showed for a split second before his smile returned. “Hmm, that name sounds familiar. Do you have any spectacular cavalry charges planned for this war?”
Thomas trundled up behind him and studied the legendary figure, “I suppose a man doesn’t have to be huge when he has a reputation like yours.” He commented.
Halt’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “No. He doesn’t. I suppose a man doesn’t have to be tactful if his chosen courier is a pincushion.” He added, fingering the feathered end of an arrow.
Thomas hurriedly back-pedaled, “Not that you’re particularly small or anything. I always tell my son ‘Ranger Halt’s probably not the size of a Scandian Wolfship. It’s even possible that he’s quite short!’ I told him just before I left, I told him, ‘everyone has to grow. Even Ranger Halt would have started out short as a kitten’.”
The Ranger turned his eyes on Steven, “Does your friend understand the meaning of ‘tact’?” he asked gruffly.
Steven grinned, “No, Ranger. I don’t think he does.”
The Ranger nodded, “I thought not. Maybe you two should go work in the mess tent. Master Chubb’s quite good at teaching people tact.”
Steven nodded, “Thanks for that suggestion.”
Halt raised an eyebrow, “That wasn’t a suggestion.” He said.
Steven nodded again, “Right, heading for the mess tent now.” He said, not waiting to make sure Thomas was following.
They stopped to drop off their gear, then carried on to where the food was being prepared.
Half an hour later, they were peeling potatoes.
Steven paused in his work to eye his friend. “Have you learnt tact ye-“ he was interrupted by the sudden crack! Of wood on his skull and the consequent pain.
“Less talking, more working! At this rate, we won’t have dinner till tomorrow afternoon!” boomed Master Chubb’s angry voice.
Both men sped up and Master Chubb walked away, satisfied for the moment.
Thomas shook his head at his friend, laughing. “Yeah, I think I’m learning tact.” He said quietly.
Steven chuckled, rubbing his head, “Way to go, Thomas. First day in the army and you’ve already gotten us in the Ranger’s bad books. Talking about seizing the day!”
Thomas reached for the last potato. “If having to work in the kitchen counts as ‘seizing the day’ then I’m pretty sure I’ve siezed basically every day in my life.”
Steven wiped his hands on his apron. “I was more referring to the fact that you’ve already gotten us in trouble and it’s only just past lunch and we already have the whole day planned.”
Thomas shrugged as they began to cut the potatoes in preparation to boil. “I thought seizing the day was supposed to be a positive thing.”
Steven dropped a piece of potato into the hot water, “it can be. At least this way, we won’t get bored.” He added cheerfully.
Thomas conceded his point. “True. And we’ll sleep well tonight.”
A horn sounded from somewhere outside. “All archery units, be assembled and ready to move out in ten minutes!”
Steven and Thomas exchanged a glance.
Time to really seize the day. And probably the night too, by the sound of it.
~T~T~T~
Thomas and Steven stood in line, waiting for instructions. Two Ranger’s strode purposefully towards them, two shaggy ponies and a few barons.
“Right, here’s what’s happening. I’m going to lead you lot, along with some light cavalry, through Thorntree until we find about five hundred Scandians. Then we’ll chop them to pieces and join up with the main army again. Any questions?”
The Ranger paused to look round at the surprised faces of the men he’d just addressed.
“Sir, isn’t Thorntree forest impassable?” One man asked.
The younger Ranger shook his head. “Nowhere is truly impassable.”
~T~T~T~
Steven looked up with wonder at the massive trees towering above them. The trees were huge but the main problem would be the smaller undergrowth. He had no idea how the archers would get through, let alone the cavalry.
Thomas eyed the thick shrubbery critically, then shrugged and turned to the two Rangers.
“What do you want us to do? Hack our way through the bush?” he asked, resting a hand on the hilt of his short sword.
The younger Ranger shook his head. “No. Just wait a while longer. We’ll find the path.”
Thomas frowned and drew breath to answer, then stopped and nodded simply. “Yes Ranger.”
Steven grinned at his friend as they walked away. “Master Chubb’s a good teacher. I should take note of his tactics. Maybe I can teach my children some tact.”
Thomas snorted. “As if you’d ever whack anyone on the head with a wooden ladle. A good belting on the bum is one thing, spoon bashing is just cruelty. Besides, what would your wife say?”
Steven smiled ruefully. “You’re right, it’s not really my style of discipline anyway.”
Thomas nodded several times. “A fact your head will be eternally grateful for.”
~T~T~T~
“Right, quiet. Understand?”
About two hundred heads nodded confirmation.
“Okay then, stand ready.”
A hundred arrows were knocked to strings and a hundred dark green shields went up, protecting the archers from sight.
The first Scandians appeared but nobody moved from their positions. A black shafted arrow appeared, quivering, in a nearby tree; the signal for attack.
A hundred arrows went back to full draw, a hundred shields dropped, the arrows were released and the shields went back into place.
The Scandian line halted as men fell. Cries of conflict and pain could be heard from far away as Ranger Halt’s men hit. Or rather, their arrows hit.
Another few volleys were released from both groups before the light cavalry charged in, causing wreckage to the confused sea wolves.
The archery units drew their short swords and followed, finishing off anything that wasn’t already decimated and some things that were.
Thomas stabbed at an enemy who wasn’t quite dead enough, pulling his sword free and starting forward again. He stopped as he heard a cry of pain behind him. Turning, he saw Steven sag to the ground, blood flowing from a wound in his chest.
The baker ran back to help his friend, dispatching the offending mercenary without a second glance in his fury.
Steven turned bleary eyes on the crumpled Scandian beside him, desperately searching for his dropped weapon.
“Peace, Thomas.” Steven croaked to the blurred figure standing over him.
He turned to the Scandian and paused while his vision cleared.
The man had multiple wounds and could barely move. Steven studied the man, confused. Why didn’t he just give up, rather than searching desperately for something only he was aware of? Surely the Scandian knew he couldn’t survive?
“What do you need?” Steven croaked, coughing blood as he struggled to draw in another breath.
“Vapen.” The Scandian said desperately, his voice barely audible.
Steven had no idea why the Scandian wanted a weapon. He probably couldn’t lift one if he had it. He resisted the urge to shrug and pressed his sword into the man’s hand, watching the relief and peace which flooded his eyes as his hand grasped the hilt with an iron grip.
“Takk.”
A wave of fatigue swept over Steven as he watched the Scandian breath his last. He slumped back onto the ground, inwardly puzzling over the Scandian and his strange, last minute wish. Of all the things he thought a dying man would ask for, a weapon wouldn’t be one of them.
He heard a cry of pain above, seemingly far away. Another man joined the ranks of dead and wounded on the battlefield.
Steven tried to sit up as he realised the body belonged to Thomas but his body wouldn’t allow it.
“Steven, stay.”
Relief swept over him as he heard his friend’s voice, then a face appeared close by his.
Steven managed a wry grin. “Ta’ abou’ se’zen’ ha day.” He slurred, coughing up more blood.
Thomas frowned, trying to decipher the words and stay conscious at the same time. His side really hurt. His vision began to fade as hid friend continued speaking. He couldn’t make out the words and he didn’t have the ocular or mental capacity to lip read. His eyesight cleared for a second longer before plunging into dark unconsciousness. During the few seconds of clarity, he watched Steven breathe his last, and die.
Thomas and Steven stood in line, waiting for instructions. Two Ranger’s strode purposefully towards them, two shaggy ponies and a few barons.
“Right, here’s what’s happening. I’m going to lead you lot, along with some light cavalry, through Thorntree until we find about five hundred Scandians. Then we’ll chop them to pieces and join up with the main army again. Any questions?”
The Ranger paused to look round at the surprised faces of the men he’d just addressed.
“Sir, isn’t Thorntree forest impassable?” One man asked.
The younger Ranger shook his head. “Nowhere is truly impassable.”
~T~T~T~
Steven looked up with wonder at the massive trees towering above them. The trees were huge but the main problem would be the smaller undergrowth. He had no idea how the archers would get through, let alone the cavalry.
Thomas eyed the thick shrubbery critically, then shrugged and turned to the two Rangers.
“What do you want us to do? Hack our way through the bush?” he asked, resting a hand on the hilt of his short sword.
The younger Ranger shook his head. “No. Just wait a while longer. We’ll find the path.”
Thomas frowned and drew breath to answer, then stopped and nodded simply. “Yes Ranger.”
Steven grinned at his friend as they walked away. “Master Chubb’s a good teacher. I should take note of his tactics. Maybe I can teach my children some tact.”
Thomas snorted. “As if you’d ever whack anyone on the head with a wooden ladle. A good belting on the bum is one thing, spoon bashing is just cruelty. Besides, what would your wife say?”
Steven smiled ruefully. “You’re right, it’s not really my style of discipline anyway.”
Thomas nodded several times. “A fact your head will be eternally grateful for.”
~T~T~T~
“Right, quiet. Understand?”
About two hundred heads nodded confirmation.
“Okay then, stand ready.”
A hundred arrows were knocked to strings and a hundred dark green shields went up, protecting the archers from sight.
The first Scandians appeared but nobody moved from their positions. A black shafted arrow appeared, quivering, in a nearby tree; the signal for attack.
A hundred arrows went back to full draw, a hundred shields dropped, the arrows were released and the shields went back into place.
The Scandian line halted as men fell. Cries of conflict and pain could be heard from far away as Ranger Halt’s men hit. Or rather, their arrows hit.
Another few volleys were released from both groups before the light cavalry charged in, causing wreckage to the confused sea wolves.
The archery units drew their short swords and followed, finishing off anything that wasn’t already decimated and some things that were.
Thomas stabbed at an enemy who wasn’t quite dead enough, pulling his sword free and starting forward again. He stopped as he heard a cry of pain behind him. Turning, he saw Steven sag to the ground, blood flowing from a wound in his chest.
The baker ran back to help his friend, dispatching the offending mercenary without a second glance in his fury.
Steven turned bleary eyes on the crumpled Scandian beside him, desperately searching for his dropped weapon.
“Peace, Thomas.” Steven croaked to the blurred figure standing over him.
He turned to the Scandian and paused while his vision cleared.
The man had multiple wounds and could barely move. Steven studied the man, confused. Why didn’t he just give up, rather than searching desperately for something only he was aware of? Surely the Scandian knew he couldn’t survive?
“What do you need?” Steven croaked, coughing blood as he struggled to draw in another breath.
“Vapen.” The Scandian said desperately, his voice barely audible.
Steven had no idea why the Scandian wanted a weapon. He probably couldn’t lift one if he had it. He resisted the urge to shrug and pressed his sword into the man’s hand, watching the relief and peace which flooded his eyes as his hand grasped the hilt with an iron grip.
“Takk.”
A wave of fatigue swept over Steven as he watched the Scandian breath his last. He slumped back onto the ground, inwardly puzzling over the Scandian and his strange, last minute wish. Of all the things he thought a dying man would ask for, a weapon wouldn’t be one of them.
He heard a cry of pain above, seemingly far away. Another man joined the ranks of dead and wounded on the battlefield.
Steven tried to sit up as he realised the body belonged to Thomas but his body wouldn’t allow it.
“Steven, stay.”
Relief swept over him as he heard his friend’s voice, then a face appeared close by his.
Steven managed a wry grin. “Ta’ abou’ se’zen’ ha day.” He slurred, coughing up more blood.
Thomas frowned, trying to decipher the words and stay conscious at the same time. His side really hurt. His vision began to fade as hid friend continued speaking. He couldn’t make out the words and he didn’t have the ocular or mental capacity to lip read. His eyesight cleared for a second longer before plunging into dark unconsciousness. During the few seconds of clarity, he watched Steven breathe his last, and die.