Songs

A/N: Here is the next little short in my little mini series. This one will probably be four to five chapters as there will be more characters in it. I got a request to do this one and a request to do Hides, but I settled on this one since I got the request first. I do apologize for taking so long to start it, but I've been dealing with health troubles lately so it's been a little difficult. But I definitely haven't forgotten about these. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Summary: In which Will uses his skill with the mandola to annoy his friends (especially Halt) charm the ladies, and help rescue a captured Scotti diplomat. And when what should have been a straightforward mission turns deadly for one of Will's friends, it is up to him to figure out that went wrong and how to fix it before it's too late. (Will, Halt, Alyss, Horace, Gilan) (Takes place around/after The Lost Stories)


Chapter 1

Will strummed the last chord of a particularly tricky musical interlude, feeling quite a bit of satisfaction as he did so. It had, admittedly, sounded skillful. And he had practiced many hours in order to get it just right. Having finished the interlude, he flew into the next verse, his voice mingling skillfully with the voice of his instrument.

.

Greybeard Halt was a fighting man

I've heard common talk

That Greybeard Halt, he cuts his hair

With a carving knife and fork

.

Fare thee well Greybeard Halt

Fare thee well, I say

Fare thee well Greybeard Halt

I'll see you on your way.

.

After the chorus he strummed the final chord with an air of finality. He looked up expectantly into the face of his audience, the baker's daughter. He felt the slightest twinge of disappointment when he caught sight of her wide eyed stare and slightly open mouth.

"So, what do you think?" he asked anyway.

Perhaps it would just take a few moments to sink in properly.

"Doesn't the Ranger Halt get upset hearing you speak of him so?" she asked, almost fearfully, glancing about herself as is expecting to see the grizzled Ranger magically appear in the little clearing before them with his bow drawn.

Will remembered that Deliah—the innkeeper's daughter at Seacliff fief—had had much the same reaction that Emily was having now. Except, if anything, Emily's reaction was far more fearful. After all, in Seacliff, the Ranger Halt was a national hero; but here in Redmont, he was all that and more. He was a constant presence and a local legend. Will sighed a little inwardly. Most country folk seemed too overawed and fearful of his old mentor's reputation to appreciate the humor and wit behind the words he had so carefully modified, or the admitted skill of his playing.

It was at times like this that he really missed Alyss. She loved his songs and wasn't too intimidated by Halt's reputation to overlook the humor of the one he had just played. Alyss had been sent away on a diplomatic mission about two weeks ago. And it was probably due to the fact that he was missing her so much that had driven him to seek out the company of the pretty and friendly baker's daughter.

"He doesn't really mind," Will said finally in answer to her question, waving a hand dismissively.

"But wouldn't those words make him angry?" she insisted.

Will was about to try and brush the question off again, when a voice, sounding from directly behind him, made him jump in surprise.

"Yes, they certainly do. In fact, it could be said that he absolutely hates it."

Will felt his heart freeze and then sink into the pit of his stomach as he recognized the lightly accented voice.

"H-Halt," Will stammered, feeling his shoulders slump.

Emily let out a mew of fear, rose quickly to her feet and scampered away down the road, disappearing within a moment.

Will turned slowly around to face his old mentor, cringing slightly as he caught the dangerous look in Halt's steady gaze.

"Sorry, Halt," he murmured finally, after the ugly silence between them had dragged on uncomfortably long.

Halt grunted slightly, still glaring as he sat beside Will on the steps to the veranda.

Will was slightly surprised at that, normally Halt would have him scampering for cover in the nearest tree by now. Maybe he was softening up some, he started to think hopefully. Halt's next words, however, dashed those hope to pieces.

"Don't look too hopeful. The only reason you aren't climbing the nearest tree right now is that something urgent has come up. It seems-"

"Urgent?" Will interrupted, his attention instantly drawn. "What's happened?"

Halt glared at the interruption for a moment and Will shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry, please continue."

Halt nodded once and then went on. "Crowley thinks it best to call in the Task Force for this one. You know of Alyss's current mission?"

"Yes. She's helping to try and renegotiate a tentative peace treaty with us and the Scotti," he replied. "Nothing too serious or set in stone, just and attempt to open negotiations between our two kingdoms."

Halt nodded, "And, so far, the talks were going so well that they are sending a high ranking Scotti diplomat to finish the negotiations— one of the clan leader's daughters, I think."

"Well, that's good isn't it? It means that they're really serious about it, doesn't it?" Will asked, slightly puzzled.

"Yes, those are all good things. And they're not the problem."

Will made and impatient gesture for the grizzled Ranger to continue.

"The problem is this: Alyss managed to overhear some whispered plots. She had been led to suspect that an attempt will be made to try and seize this Scotti diplomat before she can make it to the talks.

"Both Crowley and the King have decided to send you Horace and I to make sure that it doesn't happen, and to protect her and her retinue from any further plots of the kind. These talks, if they are to succeed, could very well be important to the kingdom."

Will nodded his understanding.

"When do we leave?" he asked, excitement at the prospect of seeing Horace, as well as some action, beginning to rise in his chest.

"As soon as possible," the older Ranger replied. "We'll meet up with Horace on the main road near the border between here and Whitby."

Will leaped up then to gather his kit and make preparations to leave. He breathed silent thanks for the urgency of this new task. If it weren't for that, he had no doubt he would have been spending a supremely uncomfortable night in the branches of a tree—like what had happened the first time Halt had heard him sing that particular song.

He also was starting to harbor the vain hope that, by the time they returned, Halt would probably have forgotten the whole incident entirely. Feeling a new sense of assurity, he felt his shoulders straighten slightly as he moved to enter the cabin.

"Oh, and Will?" Halt's words stopped him in his tracks.

"Yes, Halt?" Will asked, turning to face him.

"The trees should still be around when we get back," his mentor said, the barest trace of a wolfish grin lighting up his face.

Will felt his shoulders slump again in defeat. He should have known better. Halt never forgot anything.

~x~X~x~

Will sat near the campfire across from Horace, feeling a sense of contentment wash through him. There was almost nothing he loved more than being on the road and on another adventure with Horace and Halt. He set aside the bowl that had contained his evening meal and sighed slightly.

"It's good to be on the road again, isn't it?" Horace asked from across the way. He mirrored Will's sigh. "Things can get a little stuffy at Castle Araluen he admitted. "I've missed both of your cheerful company."

"Even Halt's?" Will asked impishly.

"Especially Halt's." Horace grinned at him.

Halt raised an eyebrow at that then asked, "Castle Araluen been boring you, Horace?"

The knight in question shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat then answered.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes. As I said, it can get a little stuffy. But it isn't all that bad," he added, not wanting to sound too ungrateful. "There are certain benefits to being stationed there, after all."

Will nudged his best friend playfully.

"Evanlyn's not going to be pleased to hear you call her a benefit," he said mildly.

Horace flushed a little at that, shooting his friend a measured look.

"Just teasing," Will said, putting his hands up in surrender.

"It's just good to be on the road again, is all," Horace said finally. "And I blame you Rangers that things and home border on boring sometimes. It's because of you lot that I got used to never being able to enjoy a peaceful moment."

"Well I, for one, am glad to have you along," Will said. "We need someone like you around to warn us whenever a raven caws," he teased, referring to an earlier incident when the three of them had been chasing Tennyson the false profit.

"You were just as scared of that raven as I was, Will," Horace pointed out,

"And I was the one who didn't get any sleep because of the two of you," Halt said, successfully squashing both their arguments.

"True," Will admitted, a little sheepish. "So," he said, changing tack, "What exactly is the plan. How are we supposed to protect this Scotti diplomat?"

Horace turned eagerly to Halt then, wanting to know the answer as much as Will.

"Alyss managed to get a message out to the riverboat captain bringing in the Scotti party. The captain is a friend of hers and he agreed to dock at Brunswick village, which is a smaller village due west of where the peace talks are taking place."

Brunswick was in the fief of Devon which was just east of the lower half of Whitby, they all knew.

"Alyss was afraid that docking at the river port just outside Devon Castle would provide too much opportunity for the diplomat's attackers," Halt continued. "We'll meet the ship at an earlier point and then we will escort her to the next town and then up to the castle itself. From there, we'll act as her and her retinue's guard for the remainder of the talks."

"That doesn't sound too exciting," Horace said with a rueful smile.

"Don't be too sure," Halt said. "If we don't find and stop whoever is behind this, we might have to stay with her all the way back up to Picta."

There was a moment of silence as they all considered that possibility. Though straightforward, this mission had the very distinct possibility of being rather lengthy and tenuous. But all three of them knew how important the success of these talks could be, and how disastrous it could be if they failed. Will looked up suddenly as Horace spoke.

"Halt?" he asked tentatively, "I've been thinking."

"Always a dangerous pastime," Halt and Will said in unison.

Horace brushed that aside. "Yes, yes, I know. But, as I see it, the time when this Scotti diplomat will be most in danger is from the time she arrives until the peace talks are over. I mean, whoever is after her obviously doesn't want the peace talks to succeed, right?"

"So, they are unlikely to try anything after the talks are over because there would be no point," Will finished for him.

"It's a fair assumption. But we should never be too hasty with them, because we don't know for sure the real motives behind her enemies," Halt said flatly.

Both Horace and Will nodded at the wisdom of this before Halt spoke on.

"You said you were thinking?" he prompted.

"Yes… right. Well, it seems to me that, for the most part, we'll need all the help we can get from the moment we meet her until after the talks are over—because that is still the most likely time her enemies might strike."

Halt and Will nodded once at him while they waited for him to continue.

"We will be passing very close to Whitby Castle and Gilan isn't supposed to come down to Redmont until next week. And, by that time, the talks will be over. By which case, if we didn't manage to find or stop her attackers, we would go on with her to Picta and Gilan can just go down to Redmont like he's supposed to," he finished, waiting for Halt to point out some flaw in his reasoning or some aspect that he had missed.

He was mildly surprised when Halt didn't answer right away and instead carefully considered the suggestion. After a few moments he turned to Will. These days, Halt valued and respected the input of his former apprentice.

"What do you think?"

Will shrugged.

"I think another pair of eyes in a situation like this could be very useful," then he could not stop his grin from breaking through. "Besides, I'd like to work with Gilan again. I've only seen him a couple of times since the last Gathering. Also, I don't see any reason why not."

"Neither do I," Halt admitted. "In fact, it might end up being very worth the slight detour it would take. That was good thinking Horace."

None of them thought it necessary to ask if Gilan would even want to join them. Unless he was tied up in a mission of his own, they knew he would. Horace sat back, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. After all, Halt wasn't one to dole out false praise. He decided then that he was spending entirely too much time in the company of Rangers; they were defiantly rubbing off on him.

He watched as Will, now that their plans were settled, took out his mandola and began strumming a few chords. Will always carried his mandola with him. It was common practice these days, when they weren't in hostile territory, for him to play while they sat around the campfire.

Horace really enjoyed it. Will's playing could defiantly lighten up the mood. He heard Halt sigh loudly and shift in his seat at the appearance of the instrument. He always made a show of not enjoying Will's playing. But Horace suspected that he didn't really dislike it as much as he professed to—well, not unless Will was playing Greybeard Halt. He smiled faintly at the thought.

He scooted forward as Will began the introduction to *Sir Daniel Tuck, one of his favorites. As Will launched into the first verse, Horace could not keep the grin from his face. Sir Daniel Tuck had been transformed into Crowley the Ranger. The words had always been funny, but this time around they were even more so. He was really starting to enjoy Will's revised songs, he thought.

.

Crowley the Ranger was a fine old man,

He took down foes with his bow in hand.

He thought there was nothing that could slow him down,

Till the forms and paperwork came around.

.

'Get out of the way,' old Crowley's wishin',

He's already late for his next mission.

The crime is over and the bandits run free,

Cause he's buried in forms far as the eye can see.

.

By the end of the song, even Halt had an amused look in his eyes. Crowley, after all, was always and forever complaining about paperwork.

"Now that one is a song I could get used to," Halt said, a slightly wolfish smile touching his lips.

"Yes," Horace said, straight faced, "Much better than Greybeard Halt."

The grizzled Ranger looked suspiciously at the young knight, but nodded none the less.

"Much better. Do you got any more like that?"

"Well, there is another one I'm working on," Will said, his smile turning just a touch smug. "I think I've settled on the final wording for it."

He began the opening notes of **Douse the Firelight, shot and a wicked looking grin at Horace and then launched into the first verse. Horace's expectant look suddenly morphed into one of mild surprise and then quickly turned a little flustered as the song went on.

.

It was a fine October evening, the moon shone bright and clear.

The harvests had been brought in, the most food of the year.

That's when I heard the rapping of a visitor come to stay,

I rose to see who'd been knocking, and bared the door then right away.

.

'That's rather rude behavior,' my guests, they all did say.

'Why shut the door on someone, and force them turn away?'

I said it's not forever; I'll let him in no doubt,

When all the food's well-hidden and the pantry all locked out.

.

For the Oakleaf Knight Sir Horace, is the one who's at the door,

He's champion of Araluen, but to him there's so much more.

His skill is only rivaled by his hunger, you'll find out.

Your food will all be eaten, your pantry strewn about.

.

He can defeat those mighty warlords, in feats of strength and arms,

But that's not why their armies fail and flee in such alarm.

It's cause he's eaten all their provisions, and left them all without,

So lock up tight your pantry, and pray it keeps him out!

.

Oh, he's a master, sure, of chivalry, a gallant knight it's true,

But invite him over for dinner, and that's a choice you'll rue.

For he is always hungry, he'll empty your stores right out,

So lock up tight your pantry, and hope he won't find out.

.

Will sang the final word and strummed the final chord with a flourish, then winced at he hit a wrong note and his voice fell slightly flat.

Horace, whose face was a little flushed with embarrassment, looked up at the discordant sound.

"Well that was the ugliest sound I've heard in a long time," he said a little hotly. "Worst rendition of Douse the Firelight, I've ever heard."

"It was only a little of key," Will said, slightly defensively.

"That's what made it so bad—the fact that it was so close to being right but wasn't."

"You're just saying that because you're angry at the lyrics and how truthfully they are," Will replied.

He turned then to his old mentor whose face was completely blank but whose eyes still held a slightly amused light.

"It wasn't that off key, was it Halt?"

"One type of tinny shrilling sounds the same as any other. First it was Greybeard Halt, and now it's Lock the Pantry. It might be better for your health if you stopped making parodies for a while, Will."

"Oh, suddenly everyone is a critic," Will said angrily as he put away his mandola with a huff.

Horace moved then to set out his bedroll, turning away quickly because he could no longer keep his smile hidden—a smile that soon turned into a broad grin. The song, despite the fact that it insulted prodigious appetite, was, admittedly, pretty funny—even funnier since he'd managed to get Will back a little for it. Just so long as that song never became as widely known as Greybeard Halt; he had a reputation to uphold after all.

~x~X~x~

It was still fairly early in the morning when the two Rangers and the knight made their way along the wooded path that led to the small clearing only a few miles from Whitby Castle. The cabin that Gilan used as a base was situated towards the northern side of the clearing. The three riders approached it. Things didn't look good when they didn't hear a warning or greeting whiny from Gilan's horse. Horace dismounted anyway and rapped on the door. After a few, moments he turned back towards the two Rangers, shrugging slightly.

"He must be out," Horace said finally.

"He's probably on a mission or some errand then." Halt frowned slightly.

Will and Horace exchanged glances and then looked to Halt.

"So what do we do?" Will asked.

"We don't know how long it will be before he returns. I don't think that we can afford to…" Halt suddenly stopped mid-sentence, tensing. Then he swore softly to himself.

Will was about to ask what was wrong when he found himself slightly startled by the sound of a familiar voice.

"What do we have here, three ugly bandits lost in the woods?"

Will turned to look behind him to see Gilan leaning causally on his longbow, a wide easy grin on his face.

"Oh, that's a little harsh," Halt said, turning to face him. "And not quite accurate. You aren't that ugly, and there's only one of you."

Gilan laughed as if it were a great treat to be made sport of in return.

"I was wondering when you were going to stop skulking in the brush and show yourself," Halt added.

Gilan's smile widened and he open his mouth to reply in kind when Will interrupted.

"Where's Blaze? Did she finally get tired of carrying around a sack of bones like yourself and run off in search of someone better?"He dismounted to embrace his friend then stepped back, grinning.

"I left her behind when I saw the fresh hoof prints heading to my cabin. I thought I'd see what was what before I rode obviously in."

Will nodded, knowing that he probably would have done the same. As Halt always said: 'nobody ever died of being too careful'.

Gilan turned from Will and let out a piercing whistle. In response, his bay mare broke through the cover of the trees and headed towards them. Gilan meanwhile had moved to Horace and clasped arms with him.

"Good to see you Horace."

"Likewise," the knight replied.

Blaze sided up to the tall Ranger then and he patted her neck absently as he turned to Halt.

"So, what brings you here? I thought you were on your way to protect the Scotti diplomat. Has something else come up?"

"We are on our way," Halt said, dismounting to greet Gilan in turn. "You're up early, are you busy?"

"No." Gilan shook his head. "Things in Whitby have been fairly quiet for the past few weeks."

"That's good then," Will interjected, turning to the taller Ranger. "What would you say to coming with us? Horace thought we might need an extra set of eyes on this one. And Halt thought it was a good idea."

"I'd say it's an offer I wouldn't be able to turn down." Gilan grinned.

The idea of going on another mission with Halt, Will, and Horace definitely appealed to him. He turned towards Halt for confirmation and the grizzled Ranger nodded once at him.

"Do you think the threat is really that serious?" he asked then.

"It don't know if it is or isn't," Halt confessed. "But I'd rather be too careful than not careful enough."

Gilan nodded. "I'll go get my kit and send a message to Alun."

Alun, they all knew, was the retired Ranger that took over Gilan's duties in Whitby whenever Gilan was sent to Redmont to cover for Halt and Will.

"Be as quick as you can," Halt added. "We're supposed to be meeting with one of Alyss's messengers tomorrow morning."

"You're right. I'd better hurry to make up for all the time it'll take for someone of your exalted age to make it to the meeting."

Will nodded sagely. "He has slowed down quite a bit since the last Gathering."

"And you should have heard him complain all this morning about his aching joints," Horace added.

"You know what? Halt asked, fixing the three young men with a glare that could kill. "I'm beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea after all."

He hadn't appreciated that particular line of jabs— especially since it had just been that morning, as he had crawled out of his tent and his joints had protested fiercely, that he had reflected wryly that he was getting too old for all this adventuring. But it wasn't as if he would ever tell them that— especially not now.


A/N: Thanks for reading. Reviews and Feedback is very appreciated. I'm an aspiring writer who really wants to know how I can improve. I hope this chapter was as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write. Sorry if it was a little slow, this is mostly just a set up chapter, there'll be quite a lot of action next chapter— I hope that will make up for it. I also hope that everyone was in character and that everything seemed believable.

*this song I based off of, and wrote to the tune of, Old Dan Tucker which is an old American Folk song

**this song I based loosely off of, and wrote to the tune of, Blow the Candles Out, which is an old Irish folk song, though some people argue that it might actually be English or Welsh. There are many different versions of it, but the one I used was from Assassin's Creed Black Flag (I like that version the best, though be warned if you look it up, any version of this song would definitely be rated T)

Next week I (or rather Will) will make fun of more RA characters with parodies of songs :)