Halt watched as Will chatted animatedly with his friends, laughing and enjoying the party in his honor— as he should be. The normally grim-faced Ranger was unable to hide a smile at his apprentice bubbling over with life.

Halt's eyes widened momentarily as he realized that, no, Will wasn't his apprentice anymore. He was now a Ranger in his own right, a bearer of the silver oakleaf and a protector of the kingdom. Halt surreptitiously swiped the sleeve of his cloak across his eyes— it wouldn't do to have people seeing his eyes misting up with this combination of pride and sadness. There had been a time when Halt never would have teared up at an occasion like this, but... well, that time was long past. He was getting old, Halt reflected. Old and sentimental.

From her position on the other side of the clearing, Lady Pauline spotted his movement and suspected what it meant. Politely excusing herself from the people chatting around her, she strode across the grass to where her husband stood. 

Halt heard her approach, but didn't say anything; part of him wasn't sure he could speak around the lump in his throat. 

"He's really grown up, hasn't he?" Pauline said with a sad smile. Halt nodded his agreement. Will was a far cry from the orphaned fifteen year old Halt had taken under his wing. 

The thought brought a tinge of regret to the scene. Normally when an apprentice Ranger graduated, his family would be gathered around to wish him luck; Will had plenty of friends and companions, and Halt was sure that Will was happy with the way things were, but. . .

"I wish his family could be here," he said aloud. Pauline nodded.

"I'm sure they'd be very proud of who he's become." She paused and considered her next words carefully. "But. . . in a way, his family is already here. He has a father—" Pauline began, watching Halt with a trained eye to see how he would react to her deliberate word choice.

Halt cut Pauline off with a confused look. "Will's father has been dead for years. You know that."

Pauline arched an eyebrow at Halt, and the Ranger had to admit it was a bit strange to see his signature expression reflected back at him. "His biological father, yes. But don't you agree we ought to give some credit to the man who raised him?"

Halt prided himself on his ability to react to surprising situations; in fact, it was one of the qualities that made him a great Ranger. But despite all of his years of experience, he had no idea how to respond to what his wife had just said. "The man who— who are you talking about?" 

Pauline refrained from rolling her eyes. She loved Halt, but for a man of such intelligence he could really be quite thick at times. "I'm referring to, of course, the man who turned Will from a scrawny boy into an incredibly capable, intelligent, and skilled Ranger."

"But that would be—" Halt's mouth closed with a snap as he realized what Pauline was getting at. "Are you saying that I'm—"

"Like a father to Will? Yes." Pauline couldn't hide a smile at Halt's shocked expression— although, really, she didn't know why that piece of information surprised him. It was obvious to anyone who knew the two. 

Halt shook his head. Maybe he loved Will as a son, yes, but there was no way that Will viewed him as a father figure. Halt had done so many things in his life that— he couldn't imagine anyone looking up to him in that way.

Pauline, watching her husband, suspected what was going through his mind. She gently touched his shoulder. "You mean the world to Will— just as he means the world to you. Believe me, that boy loves you like a father." 

With those words, Pauline drifted away to rejoin the party. Halt continued watching Will, nostalgia washing over him in the form of memories of Will's training— days spent in the forest, the cabin in the woods, and of the small figure peppering him with constant questions. That small figure was now all grown up.

Halt was cursing himself for getting sentimental in his old age when, unexpectedly, Will glanced up and made eye contact with him. Halt flinched guiltily at having been noticed, but Will grinned at his teacher as he made his way over.

Halt felt as if he should say something sarcastic or witty, as was his habit, but the words wouldn't come. There seemed to be a lump in his throat that he was unable to dislodge. "So. You're all grown up now, I guess."

Will nodded, slightly uncomfortably. "I—I guess so. But—" The words began to spill out of him, fears he had been unable to voice but had been lurking in his thoughts for months. "Halt, what if I mess up and I can't fix it? If I'm on my own, what do I do? You're not going to be there to help me, and what if I'm not ready, and—"

Halt held up a hand to steady Will's outpouring of words. "You'll be fine."

"But how do you—"

"Because I know you, Will," Halt said. "You saved my life in the first year of your apprenticeship, and you've done it dozens of times since." He smiled at Will, the lump in his throat stronger than ever. "Maybe it's me who should be worried about what I'm going to do now that you're not around."

Will hesitated, then flung his arms around Halt. "Only because you taught me," he mumbled into Halt's cloak. Halt embraced the younger man back, and now more tears came to his eyes; this time, however, he didn't wipe them away. 

He really was getting old and sentimental. But— maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.