HC-Rogan-Vincent-and Wolf

“I am not sick.”
“Then why do you turn that lovely shade of pale green every time someone walks by the tent with food?”
“Not hungry.”
“You see, Vincent, this is the part of Rogan you haven’t seen since you became his apprentice. The defiant, delusional side.” Wolf grinned. The tall Ranger was quite amused with his former master, the renowned Rogan, known for his sturdy exterior and jaded attitude. His interior today however was not as tough.
Rogan had spent the first two days since coming to the War Gathering hidden and grumpy, so Wolf joined Rogan’s current apprentice, Vincent, in calling the elder Ranger out on his condition.
“Wolf, so help me, if you keep this up, I’ll have Aryll reassign you to the most boring and dreary island in all of Karama. I am fine. Now the both of you stop staring at me and go make yourself useful somewhere away from my tent.” Rogan ran a hand through his dark hair and absently wiped that same hand on his shirt afterwards, making no comment about the sweat that came with it.
Kneeling nearby, Vincent figured he might try and step in. He’d certainly never seen his mentor in such a condition. If he had ever been sick since he became his apprentice, he’d hidden it well. This time was a different story. Surrounded by over fifty Rangers on the war grounds, more than a few had asked about him, and why he was quarantining himself to his small tent for the duration. “Rogan, you don’t look well. I’ve never seen anyone vomit up an entire meal in less than ten seconds like you just did.”
The glare that Vincent received was not a pleasant one, though this time; it was interrupted by another bout of retching. The bucket next to him was coming in quite handy.
“At least let us do something for you. How about something to settle your stomach? I can have Jerry make that stew…”
“NO!” A hand shot up in front of Vincent’s face. “Do not even talk about that man’s stew. That is the worst tasting food - can’t even call it that - in all of Karama and beyond the Western Skies. I will kill you if you bring that man’s stew anywhere near me or this tent.”
Vincent shrugged at Wolf and they both sat down.
Rogan sighed and continued to glower at them. “I told you both to leave. I know you heard me. I will manage. Go away now.”
Again the two younger Rangers shared a glance and in unison shook their heads and replied with a “No.” They watched the sweat beading on the older ranger’s forehead, and the clammy, pale skin under those beads.
“I remember, Vincent,” Wolf thought back, “a time similar to this when he was sick, except we weren’t at war. We were on some long winded mission to who knows where. We never did find out where we were supposed to be going, did we Rogan? I think we spent three weeks going in one giant circle around Harmonia. So much for our stellar tracking skills. Not really sure what we were tracking either. But anyway, he got sick two weeks into the journey and kept insisting he was fine. He gave up eating though, oddly unusual for someone not so sick. Gave it up because whatever he ate kept coming back up. And it was all over the place. Poor Grane. That was one very unhappy and smelly horse after that trip. He had quite a bath once when we made it back home. You were what, Rogan? Down for about ten days after that? It was a chore to get him home too. Thankfully he exhausted himself into unconsciousness and I just had to tie him to Grane until we found home. It’s funny now. Wasn’t so much then. I was young. I’d never seen someone so sick. My healing skills were limited to mostly injury type situations. I had no idea how do deal with someone who was half-delirious, kept going from hot to cold, didn’t sleep through the night and was violently sick every hour. Not a fun time for a young apprentice when they see their mentor so very sick. Rogan.”
With the emphasis on the last word, he hoped that Rogan would get the point of what Vincent was feeling at the moment. Sure they were keeping the mood light, but underneath, the youngest of them was concerned. Wolf would be glad to leave the tent, but he refused to take Vincent with him, when his place was here at his master’s side. Someone had to keep an eye on the stubborn old fool.
The angry glare softened just a touch as dark eyes shifted back and forth between his students, current and former. Letting his head drop in defeat, he gave them what they wanted. “Fine. I’m sick. Happy now? I admitted it. Vincent, I promise you I will be fine. Can you both please leave my tent? I don’t really need an audience to watch me throw up. If I need help, I will ask for it.”
Vincent took a deep breath and glanced over at Wolf. He shrugged. Wolf shrugged back. A few minutes later they left the tent to the relief of their mentor who flopped backwards in exhaustion. Fighting the illness was one thing. Fighting it while fending off his current and former charge, was a much more draining task.
The two younger Rangers didn’t go far. Wolf stopped them just outside the tent. “He’ll need help sooner or later. He won’t really ask for it though, you have to read between the lines. Well, in this case, read between the whines. Believe it or not, he does eventually give in to some things.”
“Are you sure we should leave him in there alone?” Vincent was still worried, despite Wolf’s good humor at the situation and Rogan’s insistence that he would be all right. “I didn’t think a person could become that pale.”
Wolf motioned for Vincent to sit and then took a place next to him. “The fact that he is whiny is a good sign. When he stops, that’s when you really worry. We’ll give him some space, but one of us should stay within ear’s shot.”
“I should stay, Wolf. You go ahead and enjoy the company. You need to represent Rogan for Harmonia now anyway.”
“I’ll relieve you after the meeting. But right now, I really need something to eat. You want anything?”
Vincent nodded. “Some of that chicken that Mark makes. Three pieces if he has them.”
“He’s usually closing up the grill right about now, but I’ll see what I can do.”
With Wolf gone, Vincent was left to himself. He tried to sneak a peak in the tent every so often when it got too quiet, but was afraid Rogan would see him and yell at him to go away again, so he didn’t see much. Just enough to see that he was still breathing and conscious. Waiting and worrying was not a good combination however, so when Wolf returned with some freshly cooked chicken, Vincent had fretted himself into a hungry young man.
The chicken was practically falling off the bone. The breaded coating was pan fried to perfection. After hours of watching his mentor throw the stuff up, Vincent fell in love with food all over again. He looked over at Tomberorry, Wolf’s horse, who snorted in disgust at Wolf who was practically inhaling his food.
“Oh don’t give me that look,” Wolf said, lightly bonking the horse on the nose with a chicken bone, “just because the old badger can’t eat doesn’t mean I’m going to starve myself.”
“Don’t know how he does it, Wolf, but that Mark can cook like a master chef. If this whole Ranger thing doesn’t work out, he could take over Lewis’ job at the Abbey.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad Rogan can’t enjoy it. This is his favorite too.” Wolf said as he greedily cleaned the meat off the chicken bones, devouring his three pieces in what might have been record time. “You check on him?”
“Just a peek. He’s alive. That’s about all I can tell. I think he knows I’ve been out here.”
“Of course he does. He expects you would stay. Underneath the gruff, he knows he’d do the same for you. Actually he wouldn’t leave the tent, even if you threatened to put an arrow into his shoulder. It’s hard for him to accept that care and love from others when things aren’t quite right in his world. That’s just him.”
In the distance, a high pitched horn sounded, followed by hoots and hollers of nearby Rangers. Wolf clapped his hands and jumped to his feet. “Time to represent my home! This shouldn’t take long.”
“Good luck,” Vincent called out as the young Ranger jogged away. He watched Wolf until he disappeared into a sea of mottled cloaks, then was startled by weak voice coming from inside the tent.
“Vincent?”
The boy hurried inside, unnerved by the waver in his master’s voice. “I’m here, Rogan. Are you all right?”
Rogan was lying on his side, eyes half closed, clothes bathed in sweat. “Thirsty. Can you find me some water?”
“Water is right here, Rogan. Next to you. Remember you asked for it a while ago.” Vincent poured a small cup and held it close. “You should sit up to drink it. You might choke.”
A clammy hand reached out and patted Vincent’s knee in an uncoordinated effort. Rogan tried to look at his apprentice, to ask for help without asking. Just as Wolf said he would.
Vincent took the initiative as he was now very concerned with his teacher’s condition. “Don’t worry, Rogan. I’ll take care of you.” A small wash basin nearby provided a perfect tool for cool water. It only took Vincent a few moments to run outside, gather the water and rags he needed and then return. As gently as he could, he dipped a rag into the water and then dabbed it around Rogan’s face, neck and chest. The skin was hot to the touch. It seemed a relief to both Rangers when the refreshing coolness of the water countered the intense heat of the skin. Twenty minutes of that and Vincent could feel Rogan settle, some of the tension leaving his body.
“Feels good.”
“Your fever is high, but when you cool down, you’ll get chilled.”
“Can’t win, huh?”
“Not this time.” And as if on cue, another round of cool water on hot skin resulted in a trembling Ranger. Didn’t take long for Rogan to feel the effects of a lowered fever. The chills started, and hit hard. Vincent was prepared though and had three warm blankets at the ready, quickly tucking them around the shivering body. It was times like this, Vincent reflected, he was grateful that his teacher had not the height of Wolf or the heft of Michelson as he pulled Rogan into a sitting position to get him sipping on the cup of water. A great sigh of relief came from the older Ranger when he was finally permitted to lie back down after a few moments. The effort it took to sit up, even for a moment, was grueling. Moans and groans escaped against his will. Rogan not only hated that his apprentice had to see him like this, but also that his apprentice was spending his much anticipated reunion with his friends caring for his ill master. He realized though how grateful he was for the boy’s presence.
“Vincent...”
“I’m right here, Rogan.”
“Hot to cold. This is fun.”
“Whatever you’ve got, it’s something nasty.”
“Merwin.”
“What?”
“Merwin,” Rogan cleared his throat and closed his eyes as a violent chill spread through him. “She did this to me. She was sick last week. Shouldn’t have gotten near her.”
“I was near her, and I’m not sick.”
“Yes, but you weren’t ah…near…her.”
“Ah,” understanding clicked in Vincent’s head. “Well, maybe this is her revenge on you for being clueless for so many years.”
“Funny. You’re a funny boy. Spending too much time with Wolf.” Rogan half crooked a smile and squinted at Vincent, trying to make sure he knew he was kidding.
“Yeah, well, who is here wiping your brow and who is off playing war games with his friends, huh?” Vincent joked back, glad to see that Rogan still had all his senses.
“Did I hear my name?” The voice came from the tent entrance. Tall and thin and the best looking Ranger in the lot, Wolf ducked in, longbow in hand. “Talking about me behind my back is so unkind. Even in Rogan’s state of stupor.”
Vincent laughed. Rogan glared.
“The representative has returned! And no, I didn’t embarrass myself.” Kneeling low, he placed a hand on Rogan’s forehead. The fever was definitely down. “Better. You do good work, Vincent. Need a break?”
Something in Rogan’s tired eyes told Vincent to stay. As much as he needed a break, he knew that Rogan needed him. “I’m okay. So you went in my place? How was Merwin?”
“She was lovely as ever. She asked about you.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Why, the truth of course. She’s coming to see you as soon as she can make a break for it; her guardsmen have her under close watch now that we’re in enemy territory.”
Rogan snorted, her ladyship could take care of herself.
Wolf shook his head. “You sound like Tom.”
A quick comeback couldn't be had, and Rogan gave it up almost before he started. He just wanted to sleep and to stop feeling so miserable. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vincent feebly attempting to hide a yawn and knew the boy needed a break, whether or not he wanted one. Grateful as he was that Vincent refused to leave his side, Rogan never ceased to inwardly worry about him, even when Vincent was the healthy one. A tap of the finger on Wolf’s knee caught the young Ranger’s attention. And of course knowing Rogan’s looks all too well, Wolf saw the slight nudge of the head and the eyes darting towards Vincent to know what his former mentor was asking.
“All right, Vincent, I’ll keep watch now. You rest yourself. Don’t argue. I’m older, you’re not.”
“But, Wolf…”
“Don’t ‘but Wolf’ me. Just curl up in the corner over there. You’re still nearby if needed, but far enough away that should he hurl up another mouthful of…well, let’s just say, you won’t be in the target area.
Rogan groaned and held his stomach in protest. “Nice, Wolf. Very subtle.”
“You like that?”
Another groan.
Finally Vincent gave in. “I’ll rest, but only if you promise to wake me if Rogan needs me.”
Rogan smiled inwardly at the boy’s affection for him as Wolf nodded. “I promise. Now, rest.”
And so the three rangers settled themselves in for a very long night.