Author's Note: This is for Hibernian Princess' Men in Cloaks Challenge. If you haven't already, go check out her fic "Men in Cloaks". Also, check out Trouble in the Night's fic "The Stories We Have to Tell", on which this is loosely based on.
Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice, as it belongs to John Flanagan. I also don't own the song 'Black Velvet Band', which is an Irish song by Fred McCarthy (and also may other bands). I do, however, own the modified lyrics.
Mo Dheartháir
A Ranger's Apprentice fanfiction
Gilan eased the door open, wincing as the rusty hinges squealed in protest. He had just returned from delivering a message from the Baron of Whitby fief to Baron Arald, and decided to drop by to visit his former mentor. The baron had treated him to biscuits, and Gilan licked his lips as he recalled the scrumptious snacks.
His gaze wandered the interior of the cabin, searching for his mentor. At this time of day, Halt was usually reading through his reports, a cup of coffee in hand. On most days. Today, it seemed, was not one of those days.
Halt sat slumped in his chair, his chin in his hands, gazing blankly out the window at the lightly falling snow beyond. As Gilan drew nearer, he realized that Halt was humming under his breath. That was strange. Halt never left papers unattended, he never looked blank, and he most definitely never hummed, sang, or had anything to with music other than to yell at Will for playing his mandola, which Halt insisted was a lute. Something strange was going on.
Gilan intentionally stomped down on a creaky floorboard, and Halt looked up in surprise. That is, he actually looked surprised. That settled it for Gilan. Halt was not one that could be sneaked up on, as he could attest from many failed attempts during his apprenticeship.
"Gilan, good to see you," said Halt, rising from his chair and walking toward the coffeepot. "Coffee?"
Gilan accepted the mug of seeming liquid that Halt handed him, but wasted no more time on formalities, if coffee could be called a formality. It was a necessity. "Halt, why were you singing? What song was it? Is it a sad song?"
To Gilan's surprise, Halt didn't rebuke him for asking a question, bust simply sat down heavily and sighed. "It's a Hibernean song. From my childhood. About a man who, through a series of unfortunate events, finds himself banished from Hibernia and sent to Skandia, to a place called "Van Demon's Land'."
Oh. Halt never talked about his childhood. Gilan had always assumed it was a sore spot. But since Halt had brought it up… Gilan had always wanted to know about Halt's earlier life, often cursing Lady Fate for Will's sometimes irritating sense of honor that forbade him from saying anything Halt may have said. For a moment, Gilan was silent, contemplating his options. Then, "Could you sing it again?"
Halt sighed again. His gaze wandered from Gilan's face to the window, and back again. Then he nodded. His right index finger began tapping out a soft beat on the tabletop. ONE, two, three; ONE, two, three…Then Halt started singing. To Gilan, it seemed that Halt's Hibernian burr had reasserted itself in this song, making his mentor sound more like he must have in his youth.
"In a neat little town they call Belfast…
000000000
Gilan scowled, his pen scribbling over the paper. Then he stopped, glared at the paper, and proceeded to tear it to sheds. It had been a week since his visit with Halt, and four days since he had been inspired, called Crowley to inform him that something very important and exciting would be happening at the next Gathering, and then promptly lost his inspiration. It wasn't that he had forgotten the tune, but that Crowley had blathered on for so long that he had forgotten the words that had come to him in a burst of genius.
He threw the papers into the fire, then stared at it, mesmerized by the dancing flames. Embers…, he thought. The lines had had something to do with embers…. Then all at once they came to him. He grabbed the pen, and scribbled the words out as fast as he could, before he forgot them again. Then he ran to call Crowley again.
The Corps Commandant was not pleased, to say the least. He answered the call with a roar of "Haven't you bothered me enough with your bloody discounts on your blasted feather mattresses!"
"It's Gilan," muttered said Ranger, when the Commandant had calmed down enough for him to speak. Apparently being the second-most powerful man in Araluen didn't prevent Crowley from the horrors of advertising merchants, thought Gilan wryly.
However, Gilan's proposal had brightened Crowley's mood, at least until he heard Gilan's last line. "Wait!" spluttered Crowley. "What? We have to make him sing it?"
"Do you know any other Hibernian princes?" asked Gilan in a superior tone.
Crowley sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll see what I can do." On the other end, Gilan grinned. It was a grand thing to be able to blackmail your boss.
At last, the day of the Gathering came. Gilan and Will arrived with expectant grins on their faces. Halt arrived looking as brooding as he ever did, if not more. Crowley arrived looking oddly nervous, and kept sneaking looks over his shoulder when he thought nobody was looking.
The Corps gathered in front of the podium. Crowley cleared his throat. "Ahem. Today we-" His voice squeaked. Someone in the crowd tittered. Crowley glared and started over. "Today, we have a special performance by the renowned Halt." The crowd broke out in mutterings. A few clapped dutifully. Gilan and Will high-fived each other.
Halt stepped onstage. The clapping intensified. Then he started singing. In the audience, Will and Gilan nudged each other and began counting beats.
"In an old castle called Dun Kilty,
Elder prince to crown I was bound.
And many an hour's sweet happiness,
Was spent in the woods around town.
Till my brother tried to kill me,"
From the audience came two well-known voices: "Falalala." Halt scowled at his two apprentices, but kept singing.
"And forced me to flee from the land,
Far away from my friends and my sister,
To e-scape to other lands.
His eyes, they're so like the embers,
Red-rimmed and burning with greed.
They call us twin princes of Hibernia,
But I know he's nothing like me."
This time, Halt could tell more Rangers had joined in: "Falalala!"
"One morning I went out a'stolling
On a walk right down a-long the docks-"
Someone that had obviously been counting wrong burst out with a "Fala-" before Will elbowed him in the gut. Halt smiled slightly at his former apprentice's action, but continued without pause.
"And I met a nice old sea captain
Who offered to ship me for naught."
Most of the Rangers had started swaying in time to the beat by now, and the volume was thunderous: "FALALALA!"
"When a watchdog employed by my brother,
Chased me to another ship,
And the crew came and put me in the hold
Now gone was our childhood friendship."
The Rangers sang out again, and Halt swore he burst an eardrum: "FALALALA!"
"Next morning before king and courtly,
A meeting t'was sentenced to stand.
And the king, he said 'You young fellow,
The case against you is quite clear,
But I know not a young Prince Halt,
But simply a young refugee
Leaving his home for unknown reasons
That I do not need to see.'"
This time, the background singers were so loud they drowned out the first words of Halt's next line, and there were many cheers intermixed. "FALALALA!"
"-come all ye young lads and lasses
And may each and all of you know
That I and the Rangers of Araluen
Are fair and swift with a bow."
With a final "FALALALALA!", applause burst out. Halt dipped his head formally, and ran offstage before anyone could see the telltale glimmer in his eyes, passing Crowley who was going in the opposite direction with a large grin on his face.
At the edge of the forest, he jogged to a stop. Moving instinctively with the shadows, he located a laurel tree. He climbed to the top, breathing in the heady scent, and all at once he wasn't Ranger Halt, the legendary warrior anymore; he was Prince Halt, the young teen that had the burden of a kingdom on his back, and the threat of his brother hanging over his shoulders. At the fork of two branches, he placed a round white pebble streaked with gold. Then he jumped off the branch, landing lightly on his feet. He faced the forest, and whispered, "Ferris, my brother, I'm sorry that it had to end like this."
Nobody was there to see the solitary tear trickle its way down his cheek.
Author's Note: Gods, that turned out much sadder than I thought it would be. So, if you liked it, please review. (Please review even if you hated it.)
-Tolemac