#morgarath: why are you here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bored-platypus · 5 months

Text

Where There’s A Will…

i’ll figure a better title out later,,,

so uhh here’s my dimension/time travel will au for the january gathering assessment @rangergathering

Will wakes up slightly groggy, back aching from the hard floor underneath him. It’s only then does the panic set in as he stumbles to his feet, wincing in pain when his head throbs. Calm down, Halt murmurs in his memory. Assess your surroundings. Where are you? Why are you here?

Will can’t remember. His head hurts and his mind is racing, and his body is slow in a way that it hasn’t been since Skandia. Will swallows shallowly, taking deep breaths as he looks around. He’s underneath a tree, a few of his belongings scattered nearby, and Will breathes out a sigh of relief when he finds his recurve bow. The bow is nicked with familiar scratches, the string lightly frayed from use, and Will takes comfort in the fact. It’s also concerning, because whoever brought him here allowed him to keep his weapons.

Wherever Will is, he doesn’t recognize this section of the forest. His knives weigh comfortably against his hip as he unsheathes his saxe, turning it over in his hand. Focus, he thinks, and studies his surroundings. There’s nobody around. The forest is disturbingly quiet, which works in his favor and sets alarm bells ringing through his head because the only time a forest is quiet is when there’s something worse than the biggest predator.

He’s still in Araluen— his mind is not so muddled to not recognize the trees and soil composition, but Will hasn’t lost track of his whereabouts and his own self in years and it terrifies him beyond belief. He gathers the rest of his possessions and slips his hood on, marking the nearest tree with his knife.

Okay. Will has been through worse. He’s fine, even if he can’t remember what he was even doing before this. He briefly closes his eyes, then sets out, marking trees along the way. The sun has barely risen— the day is young and the light shines through the leaves, as if nothing has changed at all.

It’s been a few hours since he left his original position, and he’s found a creek, collected water, and finally, found human footprints. They lead toward a well-worn road, one Will still cannot recognize. Right. At least he’s found his way to civilization, and once his finds the local Baron, he’ll be on his way back home and they can figure out what happened to him. Will steps away from the path, making sure to stay hidden as he follows it down through the forest. He hasn’t stopped to eat food, unwilling to risk eating the food he found in his pack. Will had assumed he would run across some animal along the way, but— the birds are silent, and the forest is nearly devoid of game.

He frowns, tracing the ground with his eyes when an impression on the floor catches his attention. It’s big, almost bear-like, but off. It had stampeded through the forest, scaring most of the animals off. But there’s no sign of injury or blood, a tell-tale factor to that type of behavior in animals. Instead, the tree trunks are covered in a sticky, wax-like substance. Oh. Oh.

It was never a bear. Will takes a step back, as if it’ll bring any distance between the beast and him. For whatever reason, the Kalkara were back.

Will pulls an arrow from his quiver, carefully controlled. His hands are shaking, he distantly notes. Will had been through far worse than a Kalkara since he killed one, but the last time he had faced anything related to Morgarath— Will needs to find the nearest village, and he needs to do so quick.

Will finds himself in the village of Trenton a hour after finding the Kalkara tracks. It’s a quaint village, quiet and unassuming, and filled with an undercurrent of tension. And there, hung upon a bakery wall, a few houses, and a bar, is a red and black flag with a yellow lightning bolt running through the middle. It flaps in the wind, almost mockingly at him. Because Will knows what King Duncan’s flag is, and he knows what flag Morgarath once used.

He presses himself against an alleyway, glad for the shadows that provide a cover, because Will doesn’t think he can breathe. Well, he thinks hysterically, at least he knows why the Kalkara were back.

Are back. Because wherever he is, they never left. It’s 636 CE and Will is not safe, never will be safe here and he doesn’t even know what happened to the rest of the rangers. If they still existed. If Halt was still alive. Halt was pivotal to the First Araluen Civil War, wasn’t he?

If Morgarath had won here, then where was Halt?

The first thing he does is buy food, vaguely grateful the coins he has are still in circulation. He shouldn’t be out in the open, but it didn’t really matter here, did it? Nobody even knew he existed. Will had stuffed his ranger cloak into his pack and clipped his silver oakleaf into his inner pocket in an attempt to seem inconspicuous. It seemed to have worked, or at least given off the sense that he was some world-weary hunter looking for a job.

Will is pretty sure half of the village is looking at him with pity and the other half with suspicion but he can’t bring himself to care. Time travel, how did he even get here? He makes his way into a bar, sitting down near the corner, making sure the exit is in his peripheral. The server, a plump lady walks toward him, a friendly smile on her face.

“Here for a drink?” she asks, a look towards him. Will should probably put more effort into looking happier.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He’s exhausted and drained and misses Alyss and Halt and everyone—

“It’s been a long day.” Will is pretty sure his smile looks painful. The woman hums sympathetically.

“You up for a warm bowl of soup? You look like you need something to wind down.”

He laughs, a little rough. “Yeah. That would be nice, thank you.” Will slides a copper coin towards her, and she takes it, making her way toward the kitchen. The bar is half empty, but it’s still early in the night. A few knights sit around drinking, and Will tears his eyes away, wincing at the symbol on their chest.

A few minutes later, the server returns with a hearty bowl of stew, smelling strongly of herbs and meat. Will nods his thanks, taking a long sip of the broth. The knights across the room are getting louder with alcohol in their system, slapping each other on the shoulder.

“I heard King Morgarath is planning on moving in on Clonmel! Ha, serves the cowards right for refusing a treaty. Knock ‘em right off their high horses once they see us.”

“They refused a treaty? I heard they can’t even keep their own royalty in line— King Ferris keeps Prince Halt locked up in the castle. Apparently Prince Halt attempted assassination on his own brother.”

“He’s still alive after attempting to kill the king? Psh, if one of King Morgarath’s tried to murder him, his majesty would have had him tortured and hanged.”

Will stands, pushing the bowl of stew as far as he can. No. It couldn’t be. Halt hated that place, but he wouldn’t go so far as to attempt murder on his own brother. For some reason, Halt had stayed in Clonmel. He was alive. His twin brother had apparently trapped him inside the castle, but at least he was still living.

Still living, in a way that would have killed Will’s Halt inside. This Halt, whoever he was, didn’t even know Will. Will was never his apprentice, and it wasn’t as if he could break into the king’s palace and what, get Halt out of there? Halt wouldn’t even trust him. There was nothing Will could do here— one man couldn’t fight against a whole army. And who would listen to him? He wasn’t a knight, he had no status, no reason to go running to Clonmel to warn them of Morgarath’s attack. They probably already knew.

Will is going to be sick. The knights are staring, probably because he just abruptly stood out of nowhere and is staring off into space. Mechanically, he picks the bowl up and drinks the rest of the soup, turning sharply and walking out, plans whirring in his head.

He ends up paying a few coins at an inn to stay the night, too tired to haggle a cheaper price with the innkeeper. He’s near silent as he walks along the streets, the path dimly lit by a few candles and knights making a night watch. All of a sudden, a child’s scream pierces the air, the sound of a struggle all too loud against Will’s ears.

The nearest knight looks up then away, because that’s a child, struggling against another knight who has a too-tight grip against the boy’s wrist. “Let me go!” the boy screams, high-pitched and terrified, the false bravado in his voice faltering under the fear.

The knight growls, grip tightening on the boy before throwing him to the ground, ignoring the whine of pain he makes. “You know what you did, return the money you stole,” the man threatens, foot pressing down on the boy’s back and Will sees red.

He’s moving, throwing knife in his hand and his saxe in the other, and then the knight is on the ground, whimpering in pain just as the boy had. The knight from before, the one who had ignored them all of a sudden notices the ruckus, drawing his sword and yelling furiously.

Will ducks, letting the man drive his own momentum and pushes him toward the ground, pinning him with a knife to the neck. “I suggest you gentlemen leave,” he says, and his hand is shaking and Will can’t. There’s a dull fury running through his bones and he’s so tired. He pushes off the man, picking the boy off the ground and stepping into the shadows, returning to the inn. It wasn’t exactly the best idea, but he had faith there was no way the knights could track him, and he would be gone by sunrise. The boy shifts in his arms, looking up at him suspiciously.

“Where are you taking me? Who are you?”

And oh, isn’t that just his luck. Because under a mop of blond-brown hair and a scrunched up face is Horace Altman, in all his eight-year-old glory.

Horace shifts under his scrutiny, looking away nervously. “I didn’t steal anything,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I swear I didn’t, I just wanted to see their swords and I know I shouldn’t have gotten close but—”

Horace falls silent when Will puts a hand on his head, gently ruffling his hair. “It’s okay,” Will says. “I believe you.” His stomach is turning, because Horace’s first reaction was to defend himself instead of ordering Will to bring him home, something his Horace would’ve done at this age. But here he was no ward at Castle Redmont.

"My name is—" Will pauses. Even if he had a younger self here, he wouldn't have the last name of Treaty. But it still felt wrong in a way, to take a name that would belong to another eight-year-old boy who would probably never get the chance to earn his last name the same way Will did.

"Treaty. What's yours?"

"Horace," the boy mumbles, then as he gains confidence, "Horace Altman. I have a last name, but uhm..."

He trails off, clearly ashamed. Another spark of fury runs through Will, and he keeps his face carefully blank. Horace had always been so proud of his family name, of who he was— perhaps sometimes to the detriment of Will's younger self, but there was something about the shame that set Will off. Horace should've never been afraid to proclaim who he was.

“We’re going to go back to my inn room and I’ll patch up your side and check your arm, then you can tell me where you live so I can drop you off, all right?”

Horace relaxes at his lack of outward reaction and nods, and then they're off.

okay so author’s notes + extra plot:

wow that was way more depressing than i actually planned it to be. i promise i didn’t make this purely so will was sad. the plot may have ran away from me.

oh gosh i feel so bad for the characterization. any concrit about will is greatly appreciated. i feel like i may have made him a bit too grim. sorry will. :(

ugh i forgot how long writing takes. why are there so many scenes i have to write before i get to the actual plot points i want to write about.

it has been 5-7 years since i read ra and please can anyone explain what will canonically knows about halt and clonmel because i do not remember and the wiki is not helpful 😭😭

uhh i basically made up morgarath's flag based on the cover of "the tournament at gorlan" because i'm pretty sure there's no canonical flag that he used

i have way more ideas and plot i have to flesh out, like if i’m gonna replace prince halt with ranger halt or not (because the angst potential is there)

but essentially i was gonna have will run around being a hyper-competent cool ranger helping people and basically being morgarath’s number one hater. hmm maybe have crowley locked up somewhere or in hiding, or gilan a disgraced knight for disagreeing with morgarath’s rule?

will will (teehee) definitely keep horace once he realizes horace is being mistreated. but will is probably not okay with putting like, a 8 year old in danger so idk where will would put horace once they set off. but it would be kind of funny to just have an army of disgraced, downtrodded people following will?

morgarath is probably going to be the same one from will’s world. yeah, that’s not gonna be pretty.

if anyone was looking forward to seeing will meet his tiny self, unfortunately tiny will is kind of dead. like, canonically, daniel’s wife was not gonna survive that assault while giving birth without halt.

also i find it funny that i have to defend the monarchy in this strange british-adjacent fantasy world. uhh we’ll see how it turns out.

#rangers apprentice #gathering assessment #what am i doing #i have not read ra in 5-7 years #but the hyperfixation holds tight #uhhh please excuse any inconsistencies #yep yep #ranger’s apprentice #will treaty #i'm kind of proud of this one #even if there's no way i can feasibly finish this #horace altman #ahahah maybe it'll appear on my ao3 one day when i get more motivation #fic ideas #my fics #where there's a will au

27 notes · View notes

name-s-are-not-important · 6 months

Text

Headcanon: Autistic Horace

In this essay I will...

(And I wrote the essay this time)

If someone has already written about this I apologise, I hadn't noticed, Kudos to you and I'm happy to add to the talks about it

Actually, we've already established that Halt is autistic. Right. It's Horace now.

I've already written a bit about him in terms of this headcanon and the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. So yes. Horace is autistic. (He's also dyslexic but there's no evidence for that in the canon any more, I see him that way).

We know he thinks very straightforwardly, which is what the canon makes fun of. He doesn't understand what the Lone Raven is about, he annoys Halt with his lack of understanding of dramatic symbols.

Horace sometimes doesn't understand that he's being made fun of. Canon juxtaposes him as this dumber warrior with these super-smart Rangers. But, Horace thinks strategically and is great at it. When he's the one planning the action, he figures things out faster than Halt. Replacing the king in the 8th book and making Halt's disguise, including make-up a'la goatee?

Horace doesn't understand why Rangers think so much instead of taking action on personal issues. But at the same time, he has low self-esteem himself and quite seriously assumes that he was sent abroad because he doesn't deserve to love Cassandra.

And now him and Halt. Like... think about it. The whole 'what? what?' conversation in the 3rd book is just two autistics who have passed each other by in terms of interpreting the code of conversation that has been in imposed and both as long as the other person in the conversation ko impose it. The combination of Halt and Horace, on the other hand, is at times a series of misunderstandings and at other times excellent communication, because few people understand them as well as they can understand each other. Teaching facial expressions in 8th book by Halt I've Got One Face And It's Not A Smile? Please....

Horace simplifies a lot of things, so that some he understands faster than others (like Wilyss being a thing) and some he doesn't. Because in his reasoning the cloak makes him invisible, so they shouldn't see him and that's it. Because Halt can't die since he's been through so much. And Will loves Alyss, and Alyss loves Will so what the hell to talk about, why the waiting here.

Horace has a fencing talent and doesn't follow orders mindlessly, when he's allowed to rely on intuition and his own reason, he goes awesome early on in his training. (Well, and he kills Morgarath with a technique he learned as a fun fact).

He doesn't immediately understand some of the jokes or subtext, but eventually he understood what the 'couriers' were about and had a contrived retort about thinking that he wanted to use at the right moment.

He interjects somewhat socially awkward remarks on the fly, which he interprets as offensive or rude after the fact and apologises for them. But at the same time, he then simply tells the truth. Ferris was a weak king, but they had no other.

And Halt must have taken notice of Will earlier, since he watched him while he was stealing the pies. Will didn't jump to that conclusion, having heard the explanation. Horace did, though he turned it into a joke. Equally, Horace notices the similarities, patterns and associations. People may recognise Halt as Ferris when they ride through Clonmel.

He has a strong sense of justice. How can you kill someone with poison instead of in an even fight? How can the king's seals be forged? You can't break out of a duel when you can't see anything if you've already stood up to fight. And one cannot fail to risk one's own life to defend friends or someone one has promised to help. Since there's bullying of junior cadets at the Batttleschool, Sir Rodney must know about it, it's probably the rules and that's it. And since Halt is moving to find Will, it's only right to go with him.

In conclusion: one of us. Neurodivergent Horace Altman.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

(So far I can't think of any more examples from canon. But there probably are some and I'm still going to fight for this theory.)

#rangers apprentice #incorrect quotes #ranger’s apprentice #ranger's apprentice #halt o'carrick #horace altman #autistic!halt #actually autistic #autistic horace #neurodivergent

24 notes · View notes

redrose-arrow · 1 year

Text

RedRose (re)reads: The Ruins of Gorlan

aka the book that i originally hated

ngl, i know the first sentence by heart.

reading the first ever description of the wargals just hits different after having read TRR6

i think the prologue hits harder every time i read it - especially now that TEY have been out for a while

i would die for the wards. no cap.

why am i so nervous for choosing day???

STRANGE, HE THOUGHT, HOW SELDOM PEOPLE LOOKED UP.

bby will i love you

lowkey in love with baron arald, ngl, the man deserves so much more

martin honey, you’re trying and i appreciate that

i always forget rodney has “an enormous moustache” but i love that for him. i also forgot that arald has a beard. i always forget the beards.

imagine being nervous as hell, looking up, and looking into halt’s eyes. i too would simply pass away.

“halt had a habit of coming up on you unnoticed” how do you know, will. how do you know?

rodney’s “you don’t know what you’re in for” is kinda sad when you remember that initially horace thought the bullying was normal

arald and nigel must make some team, i’d pay to see that.

when george says “thank you” and arald is “taken aback”,,,, does no one ever say thank you??? :(

“what would you do with a turkey pie?” “eat it” as you should girlie

THE RABBITS

i still wanna know what halt was thinking when pauline was trying so damn hard not to laugh.

i can’t tell if halt setting will up was a funny prank or a mean set-up

“climbed it as easily as you get on your horse in the mroning. easier, in fact.” iconic.

arald slamming back by implying that being apprenticed to halt is a punishment: even more iconic.

“he hated it when people didn’t know he was joking” so do i, arald, so do i.

THE WILDFLOWERS. BRIGHTLY COLOURED.

i still hate halt for the housework, ngl.

i’m a little weak for the “simply oakleaf design”

“an intelligent force?” “not intelligent. intelligence. although it does help if you intelligence force is also intelligent.”

i will now interpret timeline inconsistencies as halt just full-on lying about everything.

i still wanna know why halt was in the kitchen when will stole pies.

forgetting that there’d be a stream in the way is something that’d be lowkey funny. hella inconvient, but funny.

will’s obsession with swords makes me so sad

“how did you learn how to do that?” “practice” wow so useful, thank you halt

WHY DOES THIS BOY ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS ???

i love that this book already implies that horace is gonna be better than rodney. boy’s a natural. damn. it’s what he deserves.

“sometime i think we should forget the weapons training and just throw all the paper at the enemy - bury them in it.” - karel knows best

“if you feel that’s a good idea - go ahead.” yeah no thank you

halt just really threw will onto a horse for the first time and said “go for it”, huh? seems very safe.

i also still wanna know why abelard was with old bob

i just think it’s really cute that bonding with tug is one of will’s favourite things from his first apprentice months

i love how entertained arald is by stories about halt

technically, the victory that’s awarded to halt for leading the cavalry, should be awarded to gilan. but i think halt purposefully “takes” the credit, so that morgarath will come after him, not gilan. in this essay-

halt calling will by his name instead of boy >>>

i always forget about salt peter. but here he is at last again.

i love halt blaming will for salt peter answering in questions. i would do the same.

halt dealing with salt peter should be more of a meme than it currently is

i think the boar scene would be even more incredible on the big screens. i also love how excited the men are about it.

i have a soft spot for how protective halt, rodney, and arald are of will and horace.

“he wasn’t in a rush to see another one” uh-oh. should’ve known.

tug attacking a wild animal... stresses me out now more than it did. s/o to the wolf.

THE END OF THE BOAR SCENE. i am not in tears but i sure am crying.

i forgot that the boar scene was the context for “people will think what they want to. never take too much notice of it” kslsjdj i love soft halt

halt knowing that rodney knows and will appreciate horace is just chef’s kiss

shoutout to rodney’s gut, honestly

why is always “boar scene”, and never the abuse scene? i think that one’s even more pivotal for

i think the abuse scene is also the first time halt is established as a dilf and no i will not take that back

ok but also halt is a little too cheerful lmao, it makes me terrified

“take one more step and i’ll put an arrow through you” sounds like something halt would say, but it was baby will.

“the chief ranger” i bet they only call crowley that as a joke

“and it’ll be gilan because it’s always gilan” it truly always is, eh? always was, always will be

“Halt, Halt!” is top tier commedy and i will not be accepting counter arguments at this time

i am in love with how readily gilan accepts will.

so it’s canon that gilan can imitate halt perfectly. duly noted

if will thought that maybe gilan was too small for battleschool, then yes, gilan is taller than will and halt, but not super tall apparently

IT WAS A WARM SENSE OF BELONGING, AS IF, SOMEHOW, HE HAD ARRIVED HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

i cannot put into words how obsessed i am with them arriving at the gathering grounds and the absolute chaos that is reigning there. i am simply obsessed with rangers doing ranger business.

“crowley wants the army alerted and mobilised” friendly reminder that crowley is like the second most powerful person in the kingdom.

halt and gilan talking about the mission has me so soft, the mutual trust and love

“i’d happily kill someone for a cup of coffee” “light a fire to brew it, and you might have to do just that.”

poor next flute player

“sometimes, he thought wryly, a reputation for being right all the time could be a heavy burden” me when people ask me about salt peter and i don’t remember who tf that is

“it’s the kalkara. they have a new target and they’re hunting” the grasp that this will have on cinema audiences... uncanny

shoutout to rodney for getting will into the castle, because those guards were hella incapable

okay but arald is really showing why he deserves to be redmont’s baron and i am lowkey so proud of him.

do i know everyone’s gonna be fine? yes. am i terrified nonetheless? also yes.

the fire, the shooting, will,,,,, you legend, i am speechless

“jenny was a difficult person to refuse” good for her

there’s absolutely no reason for george not to be here. this is where the slander begins and i do not appreciate it

i still believe that at first, halt absolutely refused to take time to recover from his wounds, that arald send pauline “to straighten him out”, and that from there on out, halt refused to do absolutely anything because he was “recovering”.

nah i think he would’ve been an especially great teacher in those weeks.

THE KISS. I AM LOSING. MY MIND.

“aren’t you coming with me?” “not invited” i think halt threatened to get arald fired if he invited him. no, i don’t think - i know.

‘i am a ranger, my lord’ TEARS

AND HE WAS SMILING. AND I WAS CRYING.

i love it when halt uses his words because he can be so good with them if he wants to.

halt’s revelation that he was the man Daniel saved has my heart skip beats

HE FELT AT PEACE

that’s ironic because i do not feel ANY PEACE

#redrose reads #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #redrose rants #john flanagan #i binged this books in two hours ngl

37 notes · View notes

that-one-enby-ranger · 1 year

Text

Ranger Gathering 2023: Day 10

Prompt: Scheme

I'm telling myself I can't eat until I get this done

The general leading the army studied the man kneeling at their mercy before him. He was wearing ranger's uniform and had white hair and beard. Two soilders were holding their swords to his throat, keeping him from moving and had thrown his weapons to the side when they ambushed him.

They were outside the exit to the secret tunnel leading out of Castle Gorlan that Morgarath and his army had escaped out of. They were the last party to evacuate the castle, and they had caught this ranger sneaking around, investigating the tunnel. Now they had him a sword point.

'What's your name?' The general asked in a tone that said that he was the superior one and the one with authority. The ranger saw no harm in telling his name.

'Pritchard.'

'Why were you sneaking around the tunnel?' The general asked.

'I though that would be obvious,' Pritchard replied. 'Trying to find out what you rats are up to.'

'I say we kill him,' One of the soilders holding the swords spoke up. But the general waved his suggestion aside.

'No no,' he said, 'This one could be useful. We'll take him back to Lord Morgarath. He'll be able to find a use for this one.'

'If he goes missing then wouldn't the other rangers try to find him?' Another soilder asked. The general considered this for a moment. The rangers would easily be able to find out where Pritchard had been taken to, and they would try to rescue him. Unless, they thought he was dead. The general looked around and his eyes landed on a soilder who was sitting on the ground. He was close to retirement, around the same age the ranger looked. But what interest him was that they looked virtually identical. There were a few things that were different, but other than that they were really similar.

'You! Come here!' The general called out to the relaxing soilder. The soilder got up, confused, but obeyed anyway.

'What's your name?'

'Cameron, sir.'

'Well Cameron I have a very specia job for you. I need you to swap clothes with this man here,' he indicated Pritchard, 'And take his knives and put them on yourself.'

Cameorn, still confused, did what he asked, forcing the ranger to swap clothes with him. When they were done, the general beckoned Cameron closer to him.

'Thank you for you generous sacrifice Cameron.'

Cameron was about to ask what he was talking about when the generals sword stabbed into his abdomen. He fell onto his knees, shock clear on his face.

The general withdrew his sword and stabbed Cameron a few more times until he was sure he was dead.

'There. Now it looks like the ranger is dead. They won't try to find him now. Lets move out.' And with that he ordered two men to grab Pritchard, tie his hands behind his back and push his foward, forcing them to walk with them, leaving Pritchard's dopplegager dead in his place.

#This is my headcanon #i don't think pritchard is dead #i think this happened #then pritchard manages to escape years later #and gets back to his children #rangers apprentice fanfic #ranger gathering 2023 #ra pritchard #morgarath ra #ra headcanons #ra #rangers apprentice

10 notes · View notes

dnfhascorruptedme · 10 months

Text

Love Doesn't Last - Will Treaty

Chapter 0 - The Burning Bridge

Chapter 0 | The Burning Bridge

One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust.

As the kingdom of Araluen prepares for war against Morgarath, Will and Horace accompany the Ranger Gilan on a mission to Celtica. But Celtica’s villages and mines are silent. Only two exhausted and starving girls called Evanlyn and Edith can tell them why: Morgarath has sent his foul creatures to enslave the Celts. While Gilan rode swiftly back to Araluen to report this news to the King, WIll and Horace discover the true purpose behind Morgarath’s actions. The Kingdom is sure to be defeated in a surprise three sided attack - unless they can find a way to prevent it.

Chapter 1 | The Silent

‘They’ve buried their loot, by the look of this,’ Will said and Gilan nodded, smiling thinly.

‘Good. Then without their map, they won't be able to find it again,’ he said, and Carney’s eyes shot wide open in protest.

‘But that's ours…’ he began, stopping as he saw the dangerous glint in Gillan's eyes.

‘It was stolen,’ the Ranger said, in a very low voice. ‘You crept in like jackals and stole it from people who are obviously in deep trouble. It’s not yours. It's theirs. Or their family’s, if they're still alive.’

‘They’re still alive,’ said a new voice from behind them. ‘They’ve run from Morgarath - those he hasn’t already captured.’

If she hadn’t spoken, they would’ve taken her for a boy. It was the soft voice that gave her away. She stood at the edge of the camp site, a slender figure with blonde hair cut short - to a boy’s length - dressed in a ragged tunic, breeches and soft leather boots, bound up to the knee. A stained and torn sheepskin vest seemed to be her only protection against the cold mountain nights for she wore no cloak and carried no blankets. Just a small bandanna tied into a bundle which, presumably, contained all her belongings.

She had a companion. This one they couldn't tell if they were a boy or girl. They were wearing a long, knee-length black cloak, the hood covering their face entirely, with a belt holding the fabric in place at the waist. Black, knee-high leather boots were equipped, and attached to the belt were two daggers. They were both extremely muddy, but other then that the stark contrast spoke volumes.

‘Where the devil did you spring from?’ Gilan asked, turning to face the two. He sheathed his saxe knife as he did so and allowed Carney to fall gratefully to his knees, exhausted.

The girl, who Will could now see was around his own age and, underneath a liberal coating of dirt, remarkably pretty, gestured vaguely.

‘Oh…’ she paused uncertainly, trying to gather her thoughts, and Will realised she was close to the point of exhaustion. The other person was also swaying lightly, and he could see their energy would not last longer. ‘I’ve been hiding out in the… hills for several weeks now,’ she said finally, casting an uncertain glance to her companion. Will had to admit she looked as though she had been. “And she’s been with me for… a couple days.”

‘Do you have a name? Both of you.’Gilan added, almost only talking to the girl as she was the one doing all the talking. He too could see they were both worn out.

She hesitated. She appeared uncertain as to whether to give them a name or not.

‘Evanlyn Wheeler, from Greenland Fief. And that’s Edith Raven, my friend from Redmont Fief. She doesn't talk,’ Evanlyn added as she saw Horace’s slight questioning look. He shut his mouth and nodded. ‘We were here visiting friends…’ She stopped and looked away from Gilan. She seemed to be thinking for a second, before she amended the statement after a head turn from Edith. ‘Rather, my mistress was visiting friends, when the Wargals attacked.’

‘Wargals!’ Will said, the word jerked form him, and she turned a level pair of brilliant green eyes upon him. As he looked into them, he realised she was more than pretty. Much, much more. She was beautiful. The strawberry blonde hair and green eyes were complimented by a small, straight nose and a full mouth that Will thought would look quite delightful if she was smiling. But right now, a smile was a long way away from the girl’s thoughts. She gave a sad little lift of her shoulders as she answered him.

‘Where did you think all the people had gone?’ she asked him. ‘Wargals have been attacking towns and villages throughout this part of Celtica for weeks now. The Celts couldn’t stand against them. They were driven out of their homes. Most of them escaped to the South-West Peninsula. But some were captured. I don't know what’s happened to them.’

Gilan and the two boys exchanged looks. Deep down, they'd all been expecting to hear something of the kind. Now it was out in the open.

‘I thought I saw Morgarath’s hand behind all this,’ Gilan said softly and the girl nodded, tears forming in her eyes. One of them slid down her cheek, tracking its way through the grime there. She put a hand to her eyes, and her shoulders began to shake. Quickly, Gilan stepped forward and caught her just before she fell. He lowered her gently to the ground, leaning her against one of the rocks that the boys had positioned around the fireplace. His voice was gentle and compassionate now.

‘It’s all right,’ he said to her. ‘You’re safe now. Both of you.’ He added. ‘We’ll get you guys something hot to eat and drink.’ He glanced quickly at Horace. ‘Get a fire going, please, Horace. Just a small one. We’re fairly sheltered here and I think we can risk it. And Will,’ he added, raising his voice so that it carried clearly, ‘if that bandit makes another move to get away, would you mind shooting him through the leg?’

Carney, who had taken the opportunity created by the two surprising appearances to begin crawling quietly away to the surrounding rocks, now froze where he was. Gilan threw an angry glare at him, then revised his orders.

‘On second thoughts, you do the fire, Will. Horace, tie those two up.’

The two boys moved quickly to the tasks he had set them. Satisfied that everything was in hand, Gilan removed his own cloak and wrapped it around the girl. She had covered her face with both hands and her shoulders were shaking, although she made no noise. He put his arms around her and murmured gently, reassuring her once more that she was safe. The person in the cloak hastened up to help Horace.

Gradually her silent, racking sobs diminished and her breathing became more regular. Will, engaged in heating a pot of water for a hot drink, looked at her in some surprise as he readied that she’d fallen asleep. Gilan motioned for science and said quietly: ‘She’s obviously been under a great strain. It’s best to let her sleep. You might prepare one of those excellent stews that Halt taught you to make. I’m going to go see what Horace is up to.’

#rangers apprentice #gilan davidson #will treaty #horace altman #the burning bridge #oc #rau

2 notes · View notes

thelastranger · 2 years

Note

Hello there! I noticed you reblogged the trick or treat thing, could I request a treat (fluff) with either Brotherband or The Early Years characters? If not thats fine :) Thank you!!

Happy Halloween!

“Can’t we keep the cloaks?”

Egon shook his head. “The baron will know what they look like and he’ll have alerted his guards to be on the lookout for a group of rangers. The easiest way in is with the crowd of revelers.”

It was tradition that the barons of the land on Saint’s Day Eve would provide a feast for everyone who came in costume to their castles. The whole night would be filled with dancing, revelry, and lots and lots of food.

“We’d best fit in. Scatter and find some costumes. We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes.”

Everyone nodded at Berrigan’s orders and slipped away to gather their materials.

–

There weren’t many shops still open at the late hour and Crowley and Halt were lucky enough to catch one shopkeeper right before she closed her store. With the promise to pay extra for her trouble, the woman let them in to inspect her remaining stock.

“Let’s not waste the money. Just let me cover myself in camouflage and we’ll be on our way.”

“You can’t cover yourself in mud Halt. That’s ridiculous.”

Crowley pulled out his coin bag. The jingling sound it made was pathetic and these costumes were going to wipe out most of his reserves, but after all the stress of trying to coordinate against Morgarath, he and Halt needed something to distract them while the rangers ran from Morgarath.

“What are the most popular costumes you’ve sold?” Crowley aimed his most charming grin at the sales lady.

"We've had a fair amount of costumes lampooning our fine prince Duncan.” She gestured towards the pile of costumes in the corner. “There’s also a jester option that you can imagine is also pretty popular.”

The crown was crudely carved from wood and the cape was a few wears away from disintegrating, but they were still better than the jester costume which was a muted shade of orange mixed with a truly hideous shade of green. The hat was covered in a multitude of different sized bells and leggings had so many tassels on them that Halt wasn’t sure the leggings and tunic weren’t made out of fur.

Halt dragged Crowley away and pulled him down into a crouch. “I’m not dressing up like the king.”

It did feel slightly like treason to Crowley, but he was pretty sure Duncan wouldn’t mind too much. “Then you’re going to have to be the jester because those are the only costumes we can afford right now.”

The two rangers looked up from their furious whispers and the store lady quickly averted her eyes, not trying to hide that she had been trying to listen in.

Crowley handed the money over. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

–

The other rangers had fared slightly better costume wise. Berrigan had found a large wicker basket and cut eye and arm holes out of it, leaving a terrifying figure that, while attracting plenty of stares, would certainly not be recognizable as a ranger. Farrel had stolen the clothes off the back of a nobleman and was covered in velvet and embroidered flowers. The only one who it seemed hadn’t attempted to find a disguise was Norris.

“Some con man was selling poor quality replicas of a ranger’s cloak. It’s the perfect disguise.”

Crowley desperately wanted to make Norris elaborate on why he thought dressing up like a ranger was the best disguise, but there simply wasn’t time. He fixed his wooden crown and called out to Halt.

“Come on Halt, we have to leave.”

Halt was standing back in the shadows. After the older rangers had seen him in the jester costume, they had wasted five minutes trying to catch their breath, laughing. It was too funny of a sight to see the serious ranger dressed up as a jester covered in bells, tassels, and fur and it was too funny to imagine the tricks Halt might have to do to entertain the baron.

Jurgen had stripped off his cloak and tunic and was only wearing the ancient robes of the Hellenese. “If we’re going to invade the castle, we might as well get some good food from it!”

The rangers cheered as Leander led the charge, but Berwick fell back. He looked at Halt, feeling sympathy for the young man but duty to the mission won out.

“Catch up when you feel like it. It's going to be a long night."

After taking a moment to compose his thoughts and prepare himself, Halt jingled sadly as he ran to catch up to the others.

#The plot isn't exactly there but the image of Halt being forced to be a sad jester while Crowley is the king was too powerful

13 notes · View notes

solarishashernoseinabook · 2 years

Note

Ooh do 11

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

I touched on it here but I'll talk about a specific darling I had to kill: an entire subplot in The Royal Ranger, whose effects can still be felt on the plot!

Ferris's original plan (in TRR) is not to kill Halt, but instead to have their father declare Ferris his heir instead. To that end, Ferris continually manipulates both of them to play up the tension that's already there until it reaches a breaking point. Later in the fic, we would've had a chapter where Halt has to handle a major negotiation all on his own, but Ferris manipulates both Halt and the other person so it all falls through. Ferris would have used this failure to try and get his father to declare Halt unfit as an heir

(Fun fact, that's actually why I started my practice with TRR of putting in TWs for gaslighting and TLDRs if they went on for more than a few lines! That chapter would've been chock full of gaslighting and ableist sentiments, so I planned to summarise the whole thing in the endnotes if people didn't want to read it)

Thing is, if I wanted that to happen, I wanted to demonstrate that Halt could be an effective leader - otherwise Ferris's manipulation would've had a high chance of coming off as justified. So I devised the confrontation in the market in chapter 10 where Halt settles the dispute over the price of iron ingots, and that...led to the story actually having a plot. Because, well, why were they arguing over the price? I couldn't have it be something as simple as a crime having taken place, that'd be too easy. So i decided Morgarath was causing problems. That led into...well, everything thats happened since chapter 10

And then.......I wrote the end of chapter 13. And the only thing it made sense to have Ferris do was to try and get his father to disinherit Halt right there. I couldn't see the scene going any differently. And, once he'd played that card, there was no going back to it. He tried, and failed, and now he has to move on to trying to kill his brother instead

Literally the entire Droghela arc in the fic exists because of a chapter that will no longer be written, and, furthermore, so does Halt's motivating drive that will carry him through the rest of the story. The darling may be dead, but its ghost has slipped from the graveyard to haunt the rest of the work

Link to the ask game if you want to play!

#asks #ask games #writer asks #the royal ranger

2 notes · View notes

theoakleafpancake · 3 years

Text

Here’s just a little something I wrote today. I’m in a mood for pain, apparently🙃

THE CLICK OF THE lock was a grinding noise. His footsteps seemed to echo across the room, and even as the wilted flowers lost their petals, a dull thunk seemed to tremble the ground.

“Halt?” He looked over as the boy approached from the hallway, a smile on his face as his eyes brightened. “You’re alright! What about Horace? And Morgarath? Is he dead? Are we safe?”

“Horace is fine.” His voice was unnaturally loud, and he cleared his throat. “Morgarath is dead, Will.” We’re safe. The words clogged in his mouth, and he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not when they were the farthest from the truth.

“Halt?” Will’s smile disappeared, and tears filled the boy’s eyes. “Why didn’t you save me? Why did you leave? Am I not good enough? Am I going to die?”

His vision blurred, and he shook his head. “No,” he managed. “No. You’re not going to die, Will. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. I’ll find you. I swear it.”

The tears faded, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s your fault,” Will accused. “You never should have sent me away! You were ashamed of me, and now I’m captured because of you! It’s all your fault!”

Halt coughed, covering his face. The words sank deep, and he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I could do it over again, I never would have sent you. I’m sorry, Will. Please. Can you forgive me?”

But when he opened his eyes, Will was gone. The silence was back, and Halt was more alone than ever before.

#rangers apprentice #will treaty #flanagan #halt o'carrick #i had to #sorry for this #but also not #oakleafpancake fanfic

49 notes · View notes

araluenrangerdanger · 3 years

Note

Okay thanks for reading-but can you make a crawlt fanfic with Halt thinking that Crowley is dying, so he slowly sings "far too young to die" by Panic! At The Disco, and then makes out with him, because why the hell not?

I am so, so late with this, but: tw: head injury, blood, injury, violence

I hope you enjoy

Halt and Crowley had been waiting for this moment the last six hours. They had info that the bandit group took this road every second week, and today was the day.

A few weeks ago, a message came to Castle Araluen. It was from the north side of the Araluen fief, a fief that, by all standards, was now Crowley’s.

It was a few weeks after Pritchard’s death. The two young Rangers were grieving, but criminals never took breaks. Crowley was still heavily burdened by the weight of all paperwork that he had to sort (it seemed as if Stilson intentionally left the office in the biggest mess he could before he was kicked out of the Corps for good) and all the other responsibilities that came with reinstating the Ranger Corps, finding new apprentices, trying to keep everything running and the crime in fiefs that didn’t have their own Rangers in check, and of course, the past weeks had been silent torture.

When Halt had returned from Castle Gorlan with the news of Pritchard’s death, he already had several days to take it all in, and composed himself as much as he could before coming to Araluen. Crowley, however, didn’t have that luxury, which resulted in Halt delivering the news, and both of them broke down, remembering their mentor. It was the only time Crowley saw Halt cry.

The two of them dove into work, both silent and effective, without Crowley whistling or cracking his usual jokes. It was inappropriate. Death had always been a part of a Ranger’s job, but neither of them considered just how real it could be. At least Crowley and Halt managed to clear out some paperwork, and a month after Pritchard’s death, Farrel joined them in their work, seeing as he broke his leg when pursuing Morgarath.

Together, they managed to deal with most of the paperwork, but piles of it were still waiting for them.

However, the message came one hot summer afternoon. Crowley and Halt had been filling out forms and trying to figure out what to do with Redmont fief (as the Ranger’s spot was currently vacant since Farrel was on sick leave), the window was opened, but neither that nor the cool castle walls helped them escape the heat. Crowley got rid of his shirt altogether while Halt and Farrel only rolled up their sleeves.

“I don’t mean to order you around, Crowley,” Farrel remarked. “But maybe you should put the shirt back on. Maybe not because someone could come in, but otherwise Halt might overheat.” He told everything with a smile, watching as Crowley saw Halt’s red face as the Hibernian Ranger hid behind a pile of paperwork, and sheepishly put his shirt back on, leaving it loosely unbuttoned.

That was the ice breaking in their relationship, and the grieving atmosphere lifted. Halt and Crowley knew they were attracted to each other, but never expressed anything more than friendship gestures. If something happened to either of them, they didn’t want to experience heartbreak again in such a short period of time.

The message they got was clear. There was a group of bandits in the northern part of the Araluen fief, and therefore, they needed to be stopped. Crowley also saw this as an opportunity for Halt to show some more skills Pritchard taught him - who was he kidding, of course, he used the opportunity to spend more time with him, sharing a tent once again, just like in the good old times when they were getting the rebellious Rangers together.

The two young Rangers left the next day at dawn, travelling to the villages and gathering information about stolen goods, people who had become their targets, and the travelling routes the bandits took.

So here they were, both hidden in the bushes along a small forest clearing. Halt sat with his cowl over his head, unmoving, an arrow nocked in his bow, waiting for the bandits to come. Crowley sat a few meters away, mimicking Halt’s movements, also prepared.

Nothing happened for hours until they could hear hoofbeats. The Rangers stilled, knowing that any movement could cost them the element of surprise they had on their side. However, they planned on offering the bandits one chance to give up without a fight. They just needed to surprise them.

As soon as the group arrived at the clearing, riding mules and old horses, Crowley stepped out from the bush he was hiding in, and called in a sonorous voice: “King’s Ranger! Stop and surrender!”

The bandits stopped their horses, drawing their weapons and, in some cases, also stolen swords.

Their leader was a big, burly man whose teeth were missing in several places, and he now turned to his companions.

“Rangers aren’t what they used to be! This one must be one of those pompous idiots, can’t even harm a fly!” he laughed, mocking the Ranger Corps. Crowley gritted his teeth. Those vain insults wouldn’t make him angry, they wouldn’t. He knew that the Corps wasn’t what it used to be, and he and the others were doing everything they could to make it better again.

“I am giving you a warning, surrender, or see how fast I can be,” Crowley called again, losing patience with these guys. Fortunately, he knew that Halt and he could take them all on, and they still had the element of surprise, as the bandits didn’t know Halt was ever there.

The bandits cried with laughter.

“What are you gonna do, go to mommy to cry?” their leader asked before pointing his sword at Crowley. “Let’s get this over with. Kill him!”

In that moment, several bandits nudged their steeds and started moving. At the same time, Crowley let go of the arrow in his bowstring, hitting the leader’s calf, and another arrow came flying through the side, taking down another one of the men.

The action started, Halt came out of his hiding spot and fired an arrow after arrow. Crowley stepped into the shadows of a tree, knowing that it would be impossible for riders to turn their horses so quickly. Furthermore, they couldn’t go after him; they had to dismount first.

While Halt was dealing with three of the bandits, successfully shooting one into his thigh and killing the other, having trouble only with the third one, Crowley had to fight off six of them. He shot three of them before stumbling backwards as one of them tried to decapitate him with a sword. The Ranger regained his balance, his bow, however, got stuck in the tree’s branches.

“Crap!” he cursed, not having the time to try and free his bow. It was stuck for the rest of the fight, and Crowley desperately reached for his knives.

The Ranger turned around just in time to see a man trying to hit him with a hammer, but Crowley was quicker. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, making him drop the hammer. With a well-aimed kick to the stomach, Crowley sent him to the ground. Then, he quickly looked at the distance the other two attackers had.

One was already charging at him and the Ranger knew he had to act quickly. In one smooth motion, he let go of his throwing knife, not waiting to watch as it sunk into the man’s chest.

The last man came in too quickly though. Crowley didn’t have time to retrieve his throwing knife or apply the double-knife defense. He was stuck, and when the bandit’s sword collided with his Saxe knife and sent it flying, he regretted the choices he made.

Crowley’s eyes widened as he realized that he had nothing to defend himself with, and he immediately ducked as the man swung the sword where his head had been just a few seconds ago. The man seemed surprised, allowing the Ranger to send him to a dream world with a good punch.

Crowley was about to go retrieve his knives when he heard Halt’s cry of “Look out!”. The next moment, an arrow flew past him. Halt had seen the man who had a hammer sneaking up on Crowley and swinging the hammer. In the next second, the man threw the hammer and let out a squeak as Halt’s arrow struck him in the chest, killing him on the spot. However, the hammer was flying and Crowley wasn’t fast enough. With a loud thud, the hammer collided with his head, sending him unconscious to the ground.

Halt gasped.

“Crowley!” he called, running to his friend. The red-haired Ranger laid on the grass, a trail of blood colouring his red hair an even darker shade of red, his eyes closed. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley!” Halt repeated forcefully, trying to find a pulse on his neck. He panicked when he couldn’t find it, his eyes widening with a silent plea.

“No, no, no no,” he repeated frantically, trying again, but Crowley was either dead or his pulse was so weak that he couldn’t find it.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Crowley! I can’t go through this again!” he yelled. He couldn’t lose them both. He couldn’t lose Pritchard and Crowley in the span of just a few months.

Hearing no response, Halt sunk to his knees. His lips moved on their own, and he started singing, his voice raspy and filled with sadness:

“While the crown lies heavy on either side,

give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die.”

Halt closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. All the bandits were forgotten, now there was only Crowley and him.

Suddenly, a second, faint voice, said: “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

Halt’s eyes snapped open. Sure enough, there he was, blood still dripping down his temple, but his hazel eyes were looking up at him, and he was grinning.

The Hibernian Ranger gasped, but then grabbed him by his shirt and leaned in to kiss him.

It lasted just several seconds, but both men enjoyed the soft lips of the other, and broke the kiss, both red in the face.

“And don’t ever do that to me again!” Halt nudged him in the arm to be clear. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Crowley smiled at him weakly.

“I won’t Halt, but if I got a kiss like this every time you were worried about me…”

Halt wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his expression dark.

“Don’t you dare,” he started before he was pulled down by Crowley for another kiss. The usually grumpy Ranger just melted into it and kissed Crowley back, happy that he was alright and would heal.

The two broke the kiss, smiling at each other before Crowley groaned in pain.

“That was great, Halt, but please help me stop the bleeding, otherwise I might really die.”

He watched, amused, as Halt panicked once more.

#tw death #tw head injury #tw blood #tw injury #ranger's apprentice #ra fanfic #cralt #crowley meratyn #halt o'carrick #tw violence #asks #ask this danger noodle #mine

28 notes · View notes

incorrect-rangers-quotes · 4 years

Text

ra as things my classmates have said

crowley: [5 solid minutes of silence in the back of the room] ....you know, i don't think i'll ever want to get married.

pauline: cute how they all think i'm gonna live past my 20s.

halt: grammar bank? more like… i'm going to commit arson.

will: here, i'll share my loaf with you.

gilan: ...can't get drunk on bread, now, can i?

george: (deep sigh) what is our bloodied race without woe and suffering? would we truly be able to call ourselves human if in our wake we left only eternal elation....... (drops pencil) i really don't want to do math.

morgarath: i had to write a monologue "about love" that "stems from my heart". i have neither love nor a heart. help me

evanlyn: i don't know about you, but i feel like i just snorted twelve pounds of pure black tar heroin.

horace: (pouring juice into a shot glass) why even organize an afterparty if this is already an afterparty?

alyss: people can be sorted into groups judging by many features: the color of the eyes, their height, their age, the amount of arms that they have...

jenny: four hunters were driving a car. the driver was texting. they crashed and one of them died. the other three... also died. don't text and drive.

arald: i know what girls like! taking apart car engines.

erak: he's using emojis. i'm going to bludgeon him to death.

#if they sound weird thats bc i translated them into english lol #rangers apprentice #halt o'carrick #will treaty #gilan davidson #crowley meratyn #horace altman #pauline dulacy #jenny dalby #alyss mainwaring #morgarath #george carter #princess cassandra #baron arald #erak starfollower #pheww

256 notes · View notes

araluen-arrows · 5 years

Text

Home

@rangerthursday11: 7) “Stop looking at me like that, it’s your fault anyway” for Halt and Crowley. writing this fic converted me to shipping cralt :)) By the way, this takes place at the end of the Battle for Skandia, after Halt and Will get back. Hope you enjoy!

The sheaf of papers shifted closer to the edge of the cabinet. Crowley desperately attempted to stop the impending avalanche by bracing his hands against the paper, rising to the tips of his toes. He wobbled, losing his balance, and the paperwork slid off the cabinet and landed with an audible thud on his head before cascading to the ground. Cursing, Crowley bent over to retrieve them.

The door to his office opened, admitting a slight figure wrapped in a green and gray cloak. The movement was too much for another column of papers, and it teetered slowly before crashing to the ground all at once, sending scrolls flying every which way. Crowley groaned and slid all the way to the floor, shutting his eyes tight. He was knee-deep, literally, in paperwork.

“Having trouble?” Crowley looked up to see the pale oval of Halt’s face. The corner of his mouth was quirked upwards. For Halt, this was the equivalent of bursting into uncontrollable laughter, a fact that did not make Crowley any more pleased about his current predicament.

He got to his feet, attempting to retain what was left of his dignity, and proceeded to hit his head on a filing cabinet. “Oww!” Crowley rubbed his forehead where it had collided with the hard wood. He glared upwards at Halt. “Yes, I’d say I was having a spot of trouble,” he said pointedly.

Halt decided to take pity on him and change the subject. “Where did all this come from?” he asked, looking around. Crowley’s office was covered in paper, reams upon reams of it: bundles of papers, letters, and scrolls. Many bore the seals of foreign dignitaries.

“We had a little war, in case you forgot,” Crowley said. “Someone has to deal with all the paperwork. Not all of us have the luxury of leaving the country for a year, you know.”

Halt clicked his tongue. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s your fault this office is such a mess anyway. Was there a particular reason you called me up here, or did you just want someone to complain to?”

“Right. Yes. Well, actually, I wanted you to debrief you about the last year before you left for Redmont,” Crowley said, moving an armful of scrolls off his chair and sitting down. “You know, just in case you’ve alienated any foreign countries and gotten us into another war. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Halt thought for a moment. “Well, to begin with, I killed a Gallican castle lord, forged the seal of King Henri, and pretended to be royalty. All with good cause, might I add.”

“To begin with?” Crowley spluttered.

“Did you really think I would have such an uneventful year?” he challenged. Crowley had to admit that, wherever Halt was, excitement (for lack of a better word) was sure to follow.

“I’ve also set a castle on fire,” Halt said, almost cheerfully, “been apprehended by Skandian warriors, alienated the former Skandian Oberjarl, shared important military tactics with an enemy nation—”

“You what?”

“—been pursued by a Temujai war party, twice, interfered in a foreign election, and written a peace treaty.”

Crowley buried his head in his hands. “Lord help us all.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the comprehensive list,” Halt supplied helpfully. “I’ll let you know when I remember more. You might also want to have someone from the Diplomatic Service check the treaty for errors, but since it’s already been ratified by both parties, I’m not sure it could be edited at this point.”

Halt was being difficult with Crowley on purpose, but after a year away from home, he felt he was entitled to some leg-pulling. That being said, the stream of words he had just produced shocked him: he didn’t remember the last time he had talked quite so much at once. It must be a by-product of all the time he was spending with Will and Horace, he thought ruefully.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Crowley said carefully. “The very beginning, right after you left Araluen.”

So Halt did. Crowley was quiet through the entire thing, his hazel eyes inscrutable. Halt felt a prickling sensation in his eyes at multiple places in his narrative. His hand subconsciously touched the silver oakleaf hanging at his throat, as if it needed the reassurance that the chain was still there, that he was actually back.

“You really love that boy, don’t you?” Crowley asked once he had finished. He was, of course, talking about Will.

“Of course I do,” Halt said, blinking. He took a second to compose himself, then said, “I would go to the end of the known world for him.”

“Mind you, you did exactly that,” Crowley said. “Running off to Gallica and Teutlandt and Skandia. And leaving me behind to deal with the paperwork, might I add.”

Halt shrugged. “You could have come with. Would have been just like the good old days, fighting Morgarath and restoring the Corps.”

Crowley smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

There was something in his old friend’s eyes that he couldn’t quite place, Halt thought. Something a little... more than just concern for a brother-at-arms or nostalgia for the early years. He felt his eyes moistening for the third time that night, for what could have been, and pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Halt turned away, surreptitiously wiping his eyes on a corner of his cloak. “Well,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. The past was just that: passed, and dreaming about the future accomplished nothing in the present. It didn’t bear thinking about, he told himself.

“Some more of my memory seems to have returned,” he said, but the lightness in his voice was forced. Crowley, too worried about what Halt was about to say, didn’t notice. He only groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“I left out the part where we lost the Princess for twenty-four hours and she was trapped aboard an enemy wolfship,” Halt said, enjoying the expression of abject horror that dawned on Crowley’s face. “And when she was sold as a slave to the Oberjarl of Skandia,” he added. The sandy-haired Ranger’s face turned the color of spoiled milk.

Crowley opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You know,” he said finally. “I’m about to ask Duncan to extend your period of banishment. It would mean so much less paperwork for me to fill out. This is going to cause an upheaval.”

“But you won’t, because who knows what Will and I would get up to then,” Halt said. “We could cause a world war.”

“Confound it all, I hate it when you’re right,” Crowley sighed. “I’m just glad you both are home safe.” He reached over, enveloping Halt in a warm embrace.

Halt shut his eyes, feeling the back of his throat close up. Maybe the future was a dream, but that didn’t mean it was an impossibility. Maybe it was worthwhile to hope, to dare to imagine.

He returned the embrace, knowing for certain that he was home at last.

#ra #ra fandom #rangers apprentice #ra fanfic #drabble #halt o'carrick #crowley meratyn #cralt

127 notes · View notes

uncanny-accuracy · 6 years

Text

So About Alyss

Spoilers for all books, including the Early Years! You have been warned!

So first off, an apology. If this seems rushed or doesn't flow well, or there are errors of any sort, that's because I had to rewrite this two times after Tumblr decided to kill itself today.

So, without further ado, here we go.

So I've noticed that a lot of RA fans dislike Alyss, and for awhile I could sympathize with that. But then I began wondering: Why do I have such little respect for her?

And I think I've figured it out.

Alyss never gets a “big moment” where she has to use her wits and skills to pull off an enormous task or get herself out of a tricky situation.

Will has done it uncountable times - burning Morgarath's bridge, saving Evanlyn when she was captured in Skandia (with the help of the conveniently timed appearance of Horace and Halt), saving Alyss from Castle Macindaw, stopping a Scottish invasion by storming one of the best defensive positions in all of Araluen with 33 Skandians, one Knight, one Ranger, and illusions, etc.

Evanlyn has also had her moments. She saved, helped, and comforted Will when they escaped slavery. She stood by his side when he was drugged and dead on his feet. She stood by his side even after that, and she fought alongside him and Horace even when she still potentially faced death if she managed to survive the battle. She took down the Kyofu, or Terror. She went to Arrida to pay ransom for Erak, and when things went downhill and took a turn for the worst, she still held her own and showed her bravery and courage. She didn't even flinch when the executioner was swinging his sword towards her head!

And Horace killed Morgarath when he was just a first-year apprentice Knight. He's fought in many wars, and he sacrificed everything for Shirgeru and the Kikori when he barely knew them. He later goes on to become King, and he's a world renowned swordsman.

Halt is a war hero. He scaled the Mountains of Rain and Night to get info on Morgarath. He learned of the Wargals’ fear of horses, and he led a cavalry attack on them. He took down a cult with only the minor inconvenience of being poisoned. He's basically an indestructible tank.

Even Crowley had a big moment. Without him, Morgarath would be king. It was Crowley who began gathering info and trying to figure out how to stop him. He's the reason Halt became a Ranger, and without Halt, Morgarath would've won. Maybe Crowley didn't have a huge moment like some of the other characters, but his efforts were at least acknowledged and we have a decent understanding of his skill and dedication. We can respect him because we know he's hard working, just like the other characters.

But what has Alyss done?

Yes, she's done stuff. But what has she really done. Whatever she did do was so glossed over and was made out to be not a that big of a deal.

Alyss thought of a way to kill the Kyofu (which I had to look up because it was made unimportant again) executed her plan relatively well. She was courageous, but her courage was so short-lived. Afterwards, Flanagan made her out to be a scared little girl. And, I bet none of you could've told me what the animal was called, let alone what the animal was. That's because it was shoved aside and deemed unimportant.

When Alyss and Evanlyn made contact with the Hasanu and met Kona (which I had to look up again), Evanlyn, of all people, was the one who talked with Kona despite Alyss being fluent in Nihon-Jan. Alyss is a talented linguist, and yet Evanlyn is the one who does the talking? Talk about a waste. Also, in this scene, we also got more proof that Evanlyn is courageous and daring. And yet, what did Alyss do? She basically just sat and waited.

When she was trapped in Castle Macindaw, Flanagan made her play the Damsel-in-Distress card with Will. She played with a blue stone (that was magic, but still) and sat there for hours until he saved her (after she tried to kill him, but go off I guess).

When she went undercover as Hilde and infiltrated the Roamers in The Lost Stories to save Ebony (had to look through the book to find out what the group was called and to find Hilde's name because it was so glossed over), no one acknowledged her dedication. She took beatings and acted as a slave just to find Ebony, but Flanagan, once again, brushes this off.

My point is: Alyss could've been a great character, but all her “big moments” we're so glossed over. Like, honey, that's too much gloss, and it's blinding me. It's brighter than Jeffree Star’s highlighter. Tone it down, please.

Alyss is “modeled to perfection,” in a sense. “What are her flaws even?” I've found myself asking. After thinking for awhile, I can only name one single one, and it's not even a flaw anymore. It was her jealousy with Evanlyn, and she didn't even have a good reason to be jealous in the first place. Evanlyn was dating Horace, and Will had already denied her in the past. Not to mention, Alyss was dating Will at the time, and Will never showed signs of wavering to Evanlyn.

Like… honestly. Come on. Alyss could've been so great if she wasn't just shoved aside. If Flanagan would've put just a mere three more minutes into her character, she would've been badass and unstoppable, but he didn't. Her moments were thrown into the back of a storage shed and covered in dust.

Alyss is basically only there to be a love interest and help forward the plot when it's needed, and that's it. Flanagan could've had an amazing character, but he decided to ruin her and then kill her off instead.

And honestly? I'm pretty pissed.

Please feel free to add to this and/or start an argument on how Alyss could've been the best character ever and how Flanagan really fucked up.

#rangers apprentice #the ranger's apprentice #halt o'carrick #will treaty #alyss mainwaring

159 notes · View notes

redrose-arrow · 1 year

Text

RedRose Reads: TRR6, Arazan’s Wolves

also known as the book i swore i wouldn’t bingeread and then, well, ended up bingereading

- i know i should feel for these farmers boys but i just want will and maddie

- WILL AND MADDIE

- maddie istg i love your stubbornness so much omg

- will’s absolutely going to SHOW maddie who’s boss

- not will being proud that maddie cheated 💀

- okok jokes aside, genuinely HOW GOOD is will if he noticed the cheating and still hit the target within literal tens of seconds ???

- GILAAAAAAANNNN

- i forgot how much i loved him

- “what brings you to redmont?” if he doesn’t answer “jenny” i’m throwing hands

- not tricking gilan because he’s the commandant??? nah, not tricking gilan because he’s a babe. i said what i said.

- “it would appear your mother had some strange parenting habits” ALSKDJDHS I CANT

- the tiny reference to will’s last time in celtica has my heart

- okay BIGGER reference, still has my heart

- page 21, two inconsistencies. i shall ignore them.

- JENNY WOULD KILL YOU, SHE WOULD, AS SHE SHOULD

- i love how jenny is canonically more important than halt and pauline

- please gilan i am literally begging you to move your headquarters to redmont

- all jokes aside, cassandra would not mind tbh

- george bestie i can’t wait to see you

- george you are a mood a legend an icon and i love you

- YOURE TELLING ME WILL IS SORT OF ADMITTING HIS TRAUMA???? i am nothing short of a mess

- the constant references to b2 are just *chef’s kiss*

- will being called greybeard???? i cannot breathe

- i am literally short of breath right now i absolutely can’t

- why and how did i miss morgarath’s name so much lmao

- the damn reference to macindaw, i just—- this book DELIVERS

- more about will and evanlyn in celtica and i will cry. i will.

- fear being normalised is something i hold so dear

- tug i am begging you not to attack another wolf

- “hahahaha yea let’s just walk into the trap” screw you, will, for playing with my feelings like that

- not the damn fissure

- will should honestly stop comparing people to his animals akskfjdjs

- if anyone ships will and eveningstar i’m gonna throw hands

- there’s something about the parallels that has me obsessed

- maddie falling in will’s arms is a detail i didn’t know i needed

- WILL TELLING MADDIE ABOUT THE PAST AAAAAHGGG IM SO SOFT FOR THEM

- THE OLD ARROW

- how are they capable of bantering right now, i would be scared as fuck

- “does tug talk to you?” oh here - we - go

- if will’s gonna do magic i’m gonna cheer him on

- “great shot” “not just a pretty face” akskdjdhd yes you go girl

- last time will had a plan maddie didn’t like, he almost got burned to death. sure as hell hope this won’t be like old times

- “i will give you what you most desire” we all thought of alyss, don’t lie to me

- “very very tired” ain’t that a whole ass mood

- next time????? please no

- i won’t lie i laughed when the bowstring snapped. it’s nerves. six pages left and I DONT KNOW WHATS HAPPENING

- oh it’s, it’s over

- owh

#redrose reads #redrose reading #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #john flanagan #trr6 #arazan's wolves

25 notes · View notes