This was written for Hibernian Princess's Men in Cloaks Disney challenge. Be sure to go and read her story, 'Men in Cloaks' as well as the other answers to the challenge which are on the community.
While the rating may say T, that's just because I'm paranoid. I'm not sure if Gilan receiving death threats counts as an adult theme. It can probably fit under K+, or even K
Yes, you do have time to read it. Yes, you do have time to review it.
There will be OOCness. Why, does the Ranger Corps performing Broadway-style musical numbers sound In Character to you?
Disclaimer: Sigh, I don't own Ranger's Apprentice. Nor do I own Savages, Reflection, God Help the Outcasts or I'll Make A Man Out Of You. I don't even own this whole 'Men in Cloaks,' thing, that belongs to Hibernian Princess.
Halt chewed on his lip, frantically writing and re-writing a new number for the Men in Cloaks. He screwed up his paper for the hundredth time that afternoon, and threw it into the fire with a cry of despair. He was stumped for ideas, but he needed to have something written up for the next gathering. There wasn't a single number in the Men in Cloaks' repertoire that wasn't top notch, and he couldn't let them down.
"Is everything all right, dear?" Lady Pauline called from the kitchen.
Unable to cope with the pressure, Halt burst into tears. Pauline hurried to his side, desperate to comfort her wretched husband. For a moment, she stared directly out to sea, mourning for him. Her sensitive husband had always hidden his emotions until breaking point. Most of the time, Pauline had been there for him, to comfort him (or Will, or Crowley, or Gilan, or Horace…)
But one day, she feared, he'd break when he was alone. And when that happened, Pauline wasn't sure what Halt would do.
"My dear," she soothed, placing her arm around him. "My poor dear. Why do you weep?"
Halt seized her hand, and sobbed into it. It was quite disgusting, but she shrugged it off. "Oh, Pauline," Halt hiccupped, "I need to write a whole new musical number for the Men in Cloaks for the gathering, and it's in two weeks! I can't think of anything, and it hurts! It's all too much! Crowley will never forgive me, and all the other Men in Cloaks will curse my name…"
Pauline gently took back her hand, and rubbed her husband's shoulders. She congratulated herself on the gesture- not only was it affectionate, it also got rid of the all the slobber on her hand. Now she wouldn't have to wash it before she made dinner for the Baron tonight.
"It'll be fine, my love," she told him. "You'll think of something, you always do. Maybe you'll have a better idea in the morning. Put it out of your mind, love, you don't want to be upset when the Baron is here."
"How can I put it out of my mind?" Halt wailed. "It's all so daunting!"
Pauline paused, thinking. "Would you feel better if you had any idea about what you were going to do?"
Halt nodded, choking back tears. "Yes, but that's just it. I have no idea!"
Pauline's brow creased in thought. "The Corps – sorry - Men in Cloaks," she added hastily at Halt's glare, "is a very multi-cultural society."
Halt nodded, blinking back tears. "Yes, most Rangers have quite interesting stories to tell about their lives before, during and after their apprenticeships." He sprung up from his seat. Although his eyes were still red from crying, there was a wide grin spread across his face. "Pauline, you're a genius!" he shouted, enveloping her in a big, bear hug.
Pauline nodded, both pleased and bemused. "So, what are you going to do?"
Halt turned a serious, disdainful eye upon her. "This is no children's school play, girly," he told her. "A song about the former lives of every member of the Corps- this is long term." Smiling, Pauline turned back to go to the kitchens.
Halt sank back down into his seat. He'd start off with Will, Gilan and Crowley, and have something ready for each of them by the gathering. The situations both Gilan and Crowley had been in when he first found them would provide a good number. And as for Will, well, there were tones of things he could write about. It was just a matter of choosing. He himself had quite an interesting story, but he'd have to get someone else to write it. If he were to write about himself, now that would just be awkward.
Inspiration hit Halt quite suddenly during dinner that night. His good friend the Baron and Lady Pauline were engaged in heated debate over whether fairy floss was called fairy floss or, shudder, cotton candy.
"Who wants to eat a fairy's floss? That is truly disgusting, Pauline," Arald told her.
"Not as disgusting as eating cotton! Of all things! Besides, floss is healthy. Candy is not."
The last comment struck Baron Arald, and he found himself struggling for a comeback. It was the truth, he knew. Never mind that the product was made entirely from sugar no matter what you called it, floss was healthier then candy, therefore fairy floss was healthier then cotton candy. And health was everything to the long-serving Baron.
In the midst of all this, Halt was able to sneak away and write two letters- one to Crowley and one to Gilan. The gathering only went for five days, so the soloists really had to learn their parts before the gathering.
Next he seized a piece of manuscript and starting fervently composing. Two hours later, the parts for both Gilan and Crowley had been drafted, re-drafted, and re-re-drafted until finally Halt was satisfied with his work. He neatly folded the final copies for both Gilan and Crowley, and put them in their respective envelopes.
Of course, the three soloists couldn't perform simultaneously. That just wouldn't work. Besides, it would be terribly boring for the rest of the Corps. He was going to need an interlude, but he'd do that tomorrow, together with Will's solo.
He glanced up at his clock, then leapt to his feet. Four hours had passed since he had snuck out of the kitchen, and Pauline and the Baron would be wondering where he was. How rude of him, to simply leave a guest like that. Pauline would be furious.
Needless to say, he shouldn't have worried. When he returned, Pauline and the Baron were still engaged in their debate and hadn't noticed his disappearance. The tables had turned, apparently, and now the Baron was blasting away about how fairy floss actually looked like cotton. Halt smiled, biting into his once-hot roast lamb.
Gilan heard a knock on the door. Cautiously, he rose to his feet. Placing one hand on his sword, he moved silently toward the door. You could never be too careful - ever since he had started going out with Jenny, he had had no shortage of death threats from her various admirers. To his annoyance, it was only the postman. He hadn't exactly complied with the requests that lay within the threats, so why didn't they just hurry up and attempt to kill him?
The postman handed him a stack of five letters. "More death threats?" Gilan asked in a bored tone.
"Apparently," the postman replied, shifting awkwardly. He noticed that the Ranger before him had relaxed. He sighed, it was now or never.
The postman shoved a surprised Gilan against the doorframe, holding a dagger against the young Ranger's neck. Gilan's eyes widened in surprise. "Did you send any of those threats?" he asked curiously.
The postman nodded, trembling. "Yes. I was hoping I wouldn't have to kill you though."
Realization dawned on Gilan. The postman was actually going to kill him, for going out with Jenny. That was just - sick! And he couldn't do anything about it.
That was before Gilan remembered his arms and legs. He pushed the scrawny postman out the door. These assassination attempts were getting on his nerves.
He took the first letter, and sat down at the table.
Ranger Gilan,
Leave off my Jenny. She's mine. Break up with her, now, so that I can heal her broken heart.
Then you will get out of Araluen and never return.
Comply and I will let you live
Ignore this letter and I shall kill you painfully, and heal my poor Jenny's broken heart anyway.
Sincerely,
Your Worst Enemy
Gilan blew a raspberry at this. He had enemies far worse than that delusional, love struck fool. Baron Arald's cat, for instance.
He opened the second letter.
Ranger Gilan,
Isn't Jenny a pretty girl? Isn't she dangerous girl to date?
If you know what's good for you, you'll leave Jenny be. Your life may well depend on it.
He opened the third letter. Although it bore a striking resemblance to a Christmas card, Gilan knew it was another death threat.
Dear Ranger
Merry Christmas! (It's always best to send these early).
It is wonderful to know that you have finally found love this year. True love knows no bounds!
Thank you for always being there in case of some emergency in this awful fief of Norgate.
Sincerely,
Mrs Margaret Montgomery
Gilan sighed. Only a fool couldn't see that 'true love knows no bounds' translated to 'Keep away from Jenny,' and that the whole Christmas card thing was a threat. If the sender had their way, Gilan wouldn't live until Christmas. He picked up the fourth letter.
Hey Gilan,
Thanks for helping me out with those thugs last week.
I was wondering if you would like to dine with me and my family sometime next week?
Let me know what suits.
Sincerely,
Ted
Another death threat. Surprise, surprise. It might appear to be a thank-you note and an invitation to dinner, but Gilan knew what this Ted really meant by 'Dine with me and my family'.
The last letter was from Halt. Gilan frowned. It was understandable that Halt would want Jenny, despite the age gap and the fact that Halt was already married. But being willing to murder his former apprentice for her? That was truly quite shocking.
Sighing, he opened the letter. Out fell a piece of manuscript, with Halt's handwriting onto it. Probably a death chant. He unfolded the letter.
Dear Gilan,
I have written part of a new number for the Men in Cloaks to perform. I expect it will be a long-term project, but I have written an interlude as well as three solos, one of which is to be sung by yourself. Please arrange your own choreography, and have it ready for the gathering.
Feel free to alter the lyrics as you wish. They are about you, after all.
With love
Halt
Gilan frowned, alarm spread across his face. He scanned over the note again.
Dear Gilan
Now those first two words… Dear Gilan… they could only mean one thing. Halt was trying to show him that he knew him well, with that personal address. It didn't matter at all that he probably did, that's how Halt meant it. Gilan was meant to be intimidated from the first two words. He continued reading.
I have written part of a new number for the Men in Cloaks to perform.
Gilan was sure this meant, "I will soon have a new number to perform with", that new number being Jenny.
I expect it will be a long-term project
Judging from this line, Halt wanted to be with Jenny for a long time.
but I have written an interlude as well as three solos
Now that was an easy translation - the interlude represented Halt being with Jenny, Gilan was sure of it. So the solos represented things that got in the way.
One of which is to be sung by yourself.
As easy as the previous line was, this was one hundred times easier. Gilan was one of the solos.
Please arrange your own choreography, and have this ready for the gathering.
Arranging his own chorography - that could only mean one thing. Gilan was in control his own fate, according to Halt. Halt was giving him until the gathering to end it with Jenny.
Feel free to alter the lyrics as you wish. They are about you, after all.
The final statement was to reinforce an earlier one- Gilan's fate was in his own hands.
With love
Halt
Gilan grasped the song and scanned over the lyrics. Despite the situation, he smiled. The lyrics portrayed exactly how he had felt, just before becoming Halt's apprentice. But they, too, were designed to intimidate, showing exactly how well Halt knew him.
Gilan was also fairly sure that the lyrics held some other meaning. In an effort to dig it out, he would sing it over and over again, memorizing the words so he could contemplate it wherever he was. He would even put it to dance.
"For goodness sake, Gilan, you're almost a whole tone sharp!" Halt insisted.
"But, Halt," whined Gilan, "I'm a tenor. I always have been a tenor and I probably always will be. That note is too low for me!"
Halt sighed. It was true that Gilan was a tenor, a fact which Halt was really quite grateful for. The Men in Cloaks desperately needed more tenors. That note really was well below his range. But it was a prominent note, and it just wouldn't have the same effect if they decided to raise it.
Halt, Gilan and Will were on the way to the gathering, and Halt was making his two former apprentices run through their solos. Fortunately, Will had managed to convince Gilan that the letter sent by Halt was not a death threat.
Although Halt didn't know Gilan's paranoia had extended to himself, he did know that Gilan had been receiving death threats, and was worried. The threats were making Gilan anxious and tense, and it was showing. Normally, Gilan would try until to pitch a note the whole Corps was begging him to stop - he was usually very keen to expand his range.
He put a hand on Gilan's shoulder. "Jenny's a nice girl. You're perfect for her," Halt told him. Any previous suspicion that Gilan still held vanished at these words. He threw himself onto Halt, and started bawling into his mentor's shoulder.
"It's all too much, Halt," Gilan wailed. "All the threats. So much pain, just to be with the girl I love." Then he stepped back from Halt, taking in one deep, shaky breath. "But she's worth it," he said to himself. "She's worth it."
Halt smiled, glad that both his apprentices had finally found true love. He was quite the matchmaker, really, and he just didn't think it was healthy for a man to be alone.
"We'll get to the gathering," Halt promised, "and Crowley will issue an order for your protection, yes? The King will do something about this, I'm sure."
"What can the King do?" Gilan sniffled.
Halt paused, "Well, he'll protect you," he said at last. He really wasn't sure how Duncan could do this, but it seemed to be enough for Gilan.
"Thanks, Halt," said Gilan, smiling through his tears.
Will sat in the corner, smiling. He loved watching people cry, and then be comforted. It was the drama of it all. He lay back as Gilan's lilting voice once again filled the air. He really was an amazing singer.
At last, it was time. After three days of hard training, it was time for the Men in Cloaks to perform.
"Everyone in positions," cried Halt. "We're going from the top!"
With lightning speed, all the Men darted to their places, anxious to avoid Halt's cold, hard glare. Some men began to hum their starting notes.
Halt began:
What can you expect
From us mysterious people?
Of course we all have stories to tell!
We wear our mottled cloaks
Of camouflage colours
They keep us all hidden
From you
On cue, the front row leapt forward, linked arms and marched forward, singing:
Weeeeee're Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
Ever so mysterious
Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
Behind them the rest of the Men in Cloaks linked arms, and began to march back and forth, in a criss-cross pattern, their voices joining in song:
Oh listen to our story!
Although it is quite long!
Heed us as we tell you of
Young Gil before he joined us!
They sung a de-crescendo in the last line, then parted, revealing Gilan, standing alone in the middle. In one fluid motion, he drew his sword and performed on of his famous stag leaps forward. Sighing, he sunk to his knees, and began to sing:
Look at me
I will never pass for a perfect knight
Or a perfect Noble
Can it be
A knight's life is not for me?
Now I see
In order to be myself
I must follow Halt tonight.
In one incredible movement, Gilan threw his sword aside, as he pirouetted forward. The rest of the Men in Cloaks began to hum softly, harmonizing. Gilan stretched his arm forward, as if trying to grasp something that was just out of his reach. He continued to sing:
There's no point hiding it now
A knight's life
Isn't for me
Oh Halt do please take me
As your apprentice
Then I will at last be
Who I am
Finally
I don't want to be a knight
It's a Ranger's life for me
I don't want to be a knight
A Ranger's life for me!
With that Gilan rose, then looked around dramatically. Once he had melted back into the chorus, the Men in Cloaks resumed the interlude:
We're Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
Silent as the night!
Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
The Men in Cloaks promptly linked arms with a partner, and starting dancing around each other in circles, occasionally switching partners.
We protect Araluen
And in our spare time
We perform Broadway style musical numbers!
We're here to protect you
Listen to Crowley so noble
He re-formed us some years back
With no warning whatsoever, Crowley leapt forward from the crowd, while the rest of the performers pretended to be appalled. Staring dramatically into the distance, Crowley began to sing:
I don't know if you will help us
Or even if you care
But Araluen will fall
Please heed this Rang-air
I am a trained Ranger
One of five left
But we are being oppressed
And you are too
Please help this country
It's falling by the day
Even the Ranger Corps
fell long ago
I look to you now
My mentor tried to fight them
He was banished
At this point, the other performers promptly put on pompous expressions, and started moving around Crowley, sneering at him, singing:
Who needs training?
We have wealth
Our lives are cruisy, it's better this way
But that Crowley could be trouble
But he can't do anything without committing treason
Occasionally, two or three would stop, and point to Crowley, while pretending to talk in hushed tones. Crowley broke in:
There's no other way
To defeat Morgarath
If we unite
It's not treason
Together we can
Restore the Ranger Corps
And through them Araluen
Will be free once more
Oh fair Prince Duncan
Please let's unite
The rest of the Men in Cloaks leapt past him, belting out:
We're Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
We are so awesome!
Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
Now listen to Will Treaty!
His stories are many!
He's really quite an interesting person!
So over to you young Will!
The whole Corps moved as one body, as they pushed Will forward. Will pretended to look nervous and confused for a moment, and then raised his arms up in front of him.
When I was in the ward- I wanted to be a knight
But I just wasn't cut out for it, they said I was too small
Halt made me his apprentice
Although I just wanted him to leave
Oh, he made a Ranger out of me.HHHHhjaskdf;lasdfH
I was reluctant
But I learnt fast
I soon learnt in a life
As a Ranger I would last!
Well that year I killed a Kalkara
And I was given a chance to become a knight
But Halt had made a Ranger out of me
As the rest of the Corps danced all about Will, lifting him up onto their shoulders, Halt smiled. He had made a Ranger out of that young knight wannabe. And now he was extremely proud of both his apprentices. Will continued:
A lot of things have happened since then
I've made friends that will never leave me
Boy, I was a fool for wanting to go to Battleschool
While Halt scared me to death
He became like a father to me
How things have changed since my life in the ward
I'm a Man
In a cloak of mottled Green and Grey
I'm a Ranger
More Silent then a sleeping child
I'm a Ranger
Faster than the wind in the darkest storm
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon
I've survived many struggles, despite all odds against me
Amidst all my troubles, one thing has become clear
I'm a Man in a Cloak, and while I'm quite a young bloke
I know now my life belongs here
Halt made a Ranger out of me!
Halt made a Ranger out of me!
With that, the Men in Cloaks put Will down and began to sing the final couple of stanzas:
We're Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
Ever so mysterious!
Fast as lightning!
Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
We protect Araluen!
Men in Cloaks! Men in Cloaks!
The men finished, except one unfortunate Ranger, who continued:
Barely even human!
Realizing that everyone was staring at him, the Ranger looked around, confuzzled. "Is this meant to be some kind of joke?" a furious Halt asked. This fellow had ruined their grand finale!
"N-no," the man replied nervously. "That was what we were singing, right? Savages from Pocahontas?"
"Noooo," replied Halt, slowly and deliberately, so as to make sure the man could understand. "We were singing the new number I wrote SPECIFICALLY for this occasion.
Gilan frowned. "You know, Halt," he said, "It does sound an awful lot like that song in Pocahontas. Are you sure you didn't copy anything?"
Halt swung his angry eye from the unfortunate Ranger onto Gilan.
"No," he said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "It is completely my own work."
Will's brow furrowed. "Now that I think about it," he said, "My solo sounds a lot like I'll Make A Man Out Of You from Mulan. And Gil's solo is incredibly similar to Reflection, from the same movie."
Crowley nodded vigorously. "Yes, and I'm sure at least some of my solo was copied from God Help the Outcasts, from Hunchback of the Notre Dame. I didn't know you liked Disney, Halt."
"I don't," said Halt gruffly, desperately trying to change the subject. "Now Gilan, about those death threats you've been receiving…" The grin vanished from Gilan's face.
"No, everything's okay," Crowley interrupted hurriedly. "If Gilan gets one more death threat, King Duncan's going to put a three week coffee ban on the whole country."
The colour drained from all the people's faces. Gilan shifted uncomfortably, wondering what he would do if he did receive another threat. He couldn't live without coffee.
Thankfully for the future of Araluen and the Men in Cloaks, Gilan reported no more death threats. He got an awful lot of Christmas cards, though.
Oh dear, I promise I didn't mean for this to turn out a twelve page word document! Thank you for being patient and reading it!
Haha, Gil's even more paranoid then me!
It's called fairy floss, people, not cotton candy!
Please Review! Constructive criticism welcome!