Short A/N:
Thanks for the feedback guys; here's what I promised.
As this is the epilogue to Living Legends, I'm proud to announce that I'm working on the next installment of this, to be out sometime this fall
Excuse any errors; I always find errors after uploading.
Correction: I had said that this takes place in between books six and seven. But I realized a while ago that seven takes place before book five. Therefore, this takes place shortly after the events of book six. That makes it in between books six and eight, then.
Beware: When reviewing this (I had typed these ages ago), I noticed that there was a little fluff towards the end. Not sure how you guys'll react to that. I'll find out soon enough
Living Legends
The Epilogue
Life was good.
Originally from the fief of Meric, Nick's life was reminiscent of the usual, common and mundane life of village locals. Therefore speaking, he had heard many of the same rumors that surfaced around other parts of the kingdom, and originally came to believe them. In turn, the stories regarding Halt and Will interested him greatly, and he found himself idolizing the Rangers. But from a distance, however, as his limited day to day activity prevented him from actively seeking a way into the Corps.
Then, the unthinkable happened. A scenario game, seemingly a way to let loose and enjoy a weekend of action packed activity, was by far the pinnacle of his adolescent life. He had gotten to meet the legendary Halt as well as the commandant himself, and albeit a broken wrist was the result of the weekend, Nick had gotten the opportunity of a lifetime, and gladly accepted without hesitation.
Over time, the teenager was able to showcase his true skill, ultimately impressing his master; the Ranger Corps commandant. In turn, he was officially 'in the mix'; in the same grouping as the men he idolized, as well as around forty five other elite archers. And that, to him was his bread and butter; the reason he could wake so easily despite the early hour.
"Nicholas?"
The apprentice looked up from his bow, as he had began his weekly maintenance on the woodwork. The sound came from outside his room.
"Yes?"
"Come here, please."
Nick raised from his seat, and motioned over to the cabin's second bedroom, where a desk cluttered with paperwork lay beside a sizable bed. Crowley was sitting in a chair, a large, black pouch concealing a particular item. The bearded man was smiling.
A grin surfaced on Nick's face; he had an idea as to what lay inside the pouch. "They're here?!"
"They sure are. I was beginning to worry that something might've happened." Crowley unraveled the parchment. "But they turned out to be a lot more than I expected."
There were two of them. At first glance, it seemed like a single article of clothing. But upon further inspection it was four garments that seemed to be of terrific quality. From the bottom up, a pair of faded, earthly green breeches possessed black patch beginning on the upper knee, ending mid-shin.
"Put this on," said the blond Ranger, handing the breeches to his apprentice. Next was a short sleeved shirt, a darker shade of the elemental green; it resembled the traditional mottled green and gray cloaks every Ranger wore.
With the short sleeves only extending down three quarters of the bicep, the following addition: a sleeve that began at the elbow and extended down to the hand possessed a particular pattern. It embodied the tall grass and shrubbery within a forest setting, carrying the exact shades and hues of forestry.
"This is amazing Crowley!" said the apprentice, upon putting on one of the elbow pieces. It remained on courtesy to its stretchy fabric; it attached to the hand through a hole, so that a single strap of cloth rest in the webbing between the thumb and forefinger. Crowley beamed.
"Isn't it? Now hold still."
Nick silently remarked how whenever Crowley seemed to be encompassed in a task, he would knit his brows together in a seemingly irritated fashion. But in actuality, the Ranger was merely concentrating on the task that lay before him.
"I had gotten yours a little bigger, but it seems to fit perfectly," Crowley said, spreading the final piece over his apprentice. The entire piece was the same artificial forestry, cowling at the head and ending at the lower shin. The entirety was a camouflage tactic, and Nick realized that through this, he would now be virtually non-existent within the plant-dense biome.
The craftmaster stood back. "Spread your arms out, like this," Crowley motioned the gesture used to determine one's wingspan. Once Nick complied, he turned a full three-sixty as his master's concentrating expression returned, now merged with the fingering of his full beard. Upon returning to his original position, which was in front of Crowley, the Ranger's face was fixed into a satisfactory smile.
"Perfect," Crowley began, observing the entirety. "You're filling out nicely, kiddo."
A smile twitched at the corners of Nick's lips as he tried his best to downplay the words of praise given by his mentor. He knew that verbal approval was few and far between; nevertheless, Crowley caught the gesture, but chose not to exploit his apprentice on it. He continued.
"We'll be needing these for our upcoming trip. But until then," Crowley paused. He produced a familiar item of Nick's from a pocket in his trousers.
"You want to explain this?"
It was a dark tan cloth, dedicated to the purpose of being tied around one's head, the extra two flaps of cloth dangling freely. These were common within the younger members of the Corps, Crowley knew. But the headband had one small attribute: the word "Hate" was streaked horizontally in black paint. He had seen Nick wearing this throughout Living Legends, and decided that it was high time to address it.
Nick knew better than to lie to Crowley, as his mentor could see through any of his facades. "I uh – I made it a few years ago." He raised his hands and shoulders in an unknowing gesture. "It represented how I felt at the time. I only wear it because it became a habit."
The bearded man narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew that Nick had arrived in Araluen only two years prior, which left his previous life in Meric as a mystery to Crowley himself. Additionally, he knew that his apprentice's family life was turbulent. But for know he'd drop the opportunity of exploitation once more.
"Okay," Crowley dropped the subject, smiling to neutralize any future curiosity. He peered out the window shutter, observing the sun's positioning in the sky. He needed to test out the new 'stealth suits', but something had been plaguing his mind.
"So, does every Ranger get one of these?" Nick asked. Crowley shook his head.
"No," he paused, as if wondering whether to continue. Then, sensing no pending regret in doing so, he further explained. "I need to talk to you about something. Have a sit down."
The apprentice complied, taking a seat on Crowley's bed, as the Ranger himself remained in his chair. He took in his master's uneasy expression, signaling that the topic of this particular conversation would be a bit more serious.
"Is there something wrong?" Nick interrogated. Once again, Crowley shook his head.
"No – well, not quite."
The strawberry-blond Ranger sighed before continuing. "Including us, only four Rangers will get this apparel. Considering that you've been my apprentice for a couple months now, I want to offer you a new opportunity."
The apprentice Ranger narrowed his eyes was Crowley's apprentice, he thought.
"A new opportunity?"
Crowley nodded. "Well – it isn't exactly new. You'll still remain as my apprentice, but under something a bit more advanced."
Seeing the boy's face of incomprehension, he was quick to assure. "Let me explain. You see, Halt and I have been thoroughly impressed with your progression as an apprentice. In fact, in the pace you're headed, I might have you graduate a little early."
A modest smile came over Nick. For the last three months, the Saturday tradition had became long-gone, as he trained constantly, perfecting his shot in every position, traditional as well as unorthodox. He worked on unseen movement even harder, but not for the annual Gathering. As a child, he wanted to become a Ranger. Now that that goal was a work-in-progress, he realized that it wasn't enough. Upon further realization, he wanted to become the best Ranger; the best shot in all of Araluen.
Crowley continued. "So, I offer this to you: A more advanced training regimen, to prepare you for a 'Special Forces' type of ordeal."
"Go on," Nick said, the interest prevalent in his voice.
"Which means that the training will become three times as difficult in terms of combat, intelligence and other attributes. If you were to meet my expectations regarding this new training format, you'll still graduate early, though not as early as a traditional apprenticeship."
"I see. But what's this 'Special Forces' thing?"
Crowley smiled. This was going a lot better than he had initially expected. "Good question. You see, I plan on forming a Special Task Force, one that specializes in extremely covert operations – Even more covert than typical Ranger missions."
Nick nodded understanding. The Ranger continued.
"I want to train you past the benchmarks of a traditional five-year apprenticeship. Think of it as possessing all the attributes of a Ranger, but with a lot more involved. For instance, instead of the cloak, you'll wear this," he said, beckoning to the new addition that lay outside its original black pouch.
"Instead of only carrying the duties of a Ranger, you'll be called on to preform the most difficult of operations within Araluen. In turn, your salary would be much bigger – after your apprenticeship, of course."
"Will I still be apart of the Ranger Corps?"
"Of course."
The apprentice grinned a bit at the proposal. It was a handful, but as always, the end result seemed enticing, almost tantalizing. He would be lethal, dangerous; the one force to truly be reckoned with.
He would be unstoppable.
"When can I start?" he asked. Crowley's grin returned, this time wider, and jollier.
"Do I hear a yes?"
"Did you think I'd say 'no' to something like this?"
The commandant shrugged. "I did have my doubts. But I knew you'd say 'yes'. We'll start as early as possible." He peered through the shutters once more. It was late afternoon, but there was still daylight left.
"In fact, We could begin right now."
If he could earn a royal for every time he had yawned that night, the commandant would be a millionaire.
Well – a thousandaire, maybe. But truthfully, no amount of monetary value could account for the countless late nights, not to mention the monthly cost of replenishing his coffee supply. Being a Ranger came with its extended days, Crowley knew, but the contents of each document he had read that night seemed to recycle over and over in a repetitive fashion; A Battlemaster had become wounded in a hunting accident, and one of Crowley's fellow comrades now has an apprentice.
The sandy haired Ranger yawned; one more royal and he'd break the bank. It was brash of him to say that he didn't care at this point in time. But he didn't, and there was no use in pretending that he did, as he had been inhabiting his desk since the break of afternoon. And quite frankly, he didn't want to care; he was too tired to.
It was high time to take a break, he thought. There were two documents left. Crowley plotted that he'd read one of them, then rest for a moment, as the other was a break in the inked monotony. Crowley tore open the envelope, caring less about a clean rip. This one contained two notices: a meeting planned for the next week, and information regarding the assignment of an apprentice. A part of it said that most ideal time to seek an apprentice are between the months of August and November.
He pinned the parchment to the list of meetings he would need to attend. "There's another," he said, as if addressing the specialized pile of documents in the late night.
Taking the remaining document with him, Crowley wearily proceeded to the kitchen area of the cabin. Starting his hourly pastime of making coffee, he tore open the last envelope, and the subject was titled: Living Legends. Crowley grinned, belittling his exhaustion temporarily.
It was once again that time of the year.
A slight rapping came from the outside of the commandant's castle suite – a rather large one at that.
"Crowley!"
The familiar sound came from the main room of Crowley's apartment. Being a trusted adviser of King Duncan, followed by duties as the Ranger Commandant, Crowley's yearly earnings were rather affluent, to say the least. His castle suite was lofty, with a wall dedicated to large, airy windows within the main living space.
The commandant sipped graciously from his mug, smacking his lips in appreciation. Coffee never ceased to amaze him, he thought. Onward, he walked into the main room, shuddering slightly at the room's temperature.
"Nicholas, why aren't you sleeping?" he asked softly, to the figure sitting on the wooden floor beside an array of couches. The commandant's apprentice smiled, a little eagerly.
"I was waiting," he replied. Crowley closed two of the three shutters, minimizing the quantity of the crisp, nightly air that flowed within the homestead.
"For what?"
Nick rose from his seated position; he had been fiddling with the draw weight of his recurve bow, as if killing the time for something. "Hold on; stay right there." he said before maneuvering off into another room.
Crowley smiled warmly. It was now a year since he had assigned himself an apprentice. Unsure at first, as any craftmaster is, the process of time gradually broke through the barriers of reservation for both master and apprentice, and the sandy haired Ranger had become very fond of his protege. And to know that the feeling was mutual was very reassuring, sitting well within Crowley's emotions.
"So, as you know, you've been my craftmaster for almost a year now," Nick began. "And it is your birthday, as of about five minutes ago."
Crowley made a dismissing gesture. "Nick, what did I say about-"
"Wait! Just hear me out."
The Ranger chuckled, continuing to drink the sweet liquid. Nevertheless, his apprentice continued.
"Well, I got you a little gift, as a 'thanks for putting up with my crap for the last year' sort of thing." He handed Crowley a wooden encasing, then made his way back toward the couch, plopping onto the comfortable furniture. However, his eyes were still locked onto his master
The commandant opened the case, and raised his eyebrows at the sight: a gold-encrusted hilt, as well as a saxe knife, similar to the one he used. Upon further examination, the quality of the silverwork was represented by its gleam and seeming sharpness. He brought the gift, mug and final document with him to the couch, setting the mug and document onto a nearby table.
"Where'd you get the money for this?" he asked, examining the object even further. It was beautiful, he thought.
"I kill people for money; the usual."
"Good. Maybe you can help me pay all of these damned Rangers then."
Earning a short laugh from the younger figure, Crowley sat beside Nick, extending out onto the furniture himself, document in hand. The contents of this document were the teams that would be attending the annual "Living Legends", possibly the biggest archery event in the region. The Ranger scratched his full beard as he examined the parchment. Every year, roughly a couple thousand of people would congregate at the capital of Araluen for a weekend of scenario based action. A general would be chosen for each team, but the two teams were mere bastions for smaller teams and clubs, each with their own respective roster.
There was a minimum of four hundred for each team. On the sheet, there was a list of teams signed under Crowley's team, as he was voted as a general for this year. Smaller teams ranged from private clubs encompassing friends and friends of friends, to full fledged archery clubs; the big names of the kingdom with even bigger rosters. A trend of such clubs, bigger names and people of interest seemed to be under the same roster, as if to attract attention from the majority.
But, a brief skim of the teams and the document was placed onto the table, replacing it with the mug of coffee. This year, he would be a tad too busy for such events.
Nick, who had been laying parallel to the couch's length, therefore perpendicular to Crowley, now looked up, presented with an upside-down image of the commandant.
"You know what?"
Crowley peered down at the kid, and Nick continued. Smiling through eyes slightly reddened, courtesy of the late night, he spoke.
"You're alright." he said, merely downsizing how content he was with the current situation. Life in Meric, with an altogether turbulent family had been rather haphazard, and a change of scenery was well appreciated.
The commandant chuckled softly, comprehending the underlying message and comfort behind the words, before disheveling the boy's brown hair.
"You're 'alright' as well. A little nerve racking, but otherwise alright."
The apprentice laughed. "You serious?"
The Ranger chuckled himself, reassuring the youth. "I'm just kidding."
Crowley eyed the kid as Nick himself stared into the ceiling, aboard the never ending train of thought. His apprentice reminded him how long a year actually was, as when shrouded in the daily routine of paperwork and official business, time could fly effortlessly.
He spoke in a low, parental voice. "You should try to get some sleep."
Nick snorted. "I'm not even tired."
The piercing cold wind was what Crowley woke to, in addition to the unfamiliarity of the place he dozed. He had fallen asleep on the couch some time ago while trying to read the last document. Hand vigorously rubbing his eyes, he examined his surroundings, including his apprentice, who was now snoring slightly.
"So much for not being tired," he said, more to himself, as the directed audience was in a deep slumber.
Motioning over to the shutters one more, he closed all of them; the interior had became a little nippy while they were open. Next he placed the mug of cold coffee on a table in the kitchen area, leaving the document where it lay.
If there had been one thing that Crowley learned about Nick within a year, it was that when the apprentice slept, it would take a parade and a half to wake the teen up. Comically, Nick was a zombie in the morning. A bit crabby as well, Crowley thought.
But Nick was his apprentice, and although that was their relation on paper, a years time manifested their relationship into the beginning of something beyond master and student, as Nick would often seek personal advice from the bearded commandant, signaling the extensive amount of trust he confided in the Ranger. In turn, Crowley would unconsciously prefer to keep the kid out of harm's way, often setting curfews on Nick's free days. In hindsight, some of those curfews were ridiculous, but the proof of their effectiveness lay in the fact that his apprentice was still here, possessing the patience for his master's shenanigans. This was the beginning of the future.
He shook the figure slightly. "Nick?"
He was rewarded with snoring, as the boy remained asleep. He shook him again, this time a little harder.
"Nicholas."
Nothing.
Sighing slightly to himself, Crowley was unsurprised at his apprentice's lack of movement. He now carried the figure up and off of the furniture, grunting slightly at the kid's weight.
"I'm getting too old for this, kiddo," he muttered, once again to himself.
Nick seemed unaffected by this movement, essentially a ragdoll in the grasp of his mentor. Making it to one of the two bedrooms, he gently placed the boy onto the bed, bringing the two covers to his neck. He then rubbed Nick's head once more, a gesture he found himself doing more over the months.
"Good night, son."
On the way out, Crowley retracted what he had thought earlier. His shenanigans weren't ridiculous, they were necessary. This was the future of the Ranger Corps; The future of a dynasty.
This, was the beginning of a legend.
The End
Thank you, very much, for taking the time to read this story. It took me a couple years to finish in the end, as I walked away from FanFiction for a while. But I'm proud to say that it's finished, and even prouder to say that this will not be the last time I write about Crowley and Nick.
As of now, I'm currently working on the next installment of this, and I'll begin to upload once more this fall.
You can stick around for shoutouts and inspirations, or read the other great fics posted by other authors in this archive. The RA fandom is a great one, there are many awesome stories out there.
Shoutouts!
From first to last:
Thanks to:
flaminglake
DarkArmedRanger
Risa Silvara
Tessi
Karasu-archer
MrShort
Bralt
NotAnonymous (love the name)
skyward27
SeekerMaxia
Master of Arrows
chocholatecheesecake23
Jeremy
TugLover
Ark803
ironman25305
josiah275
pi
Daniel
azzy the azeif
TugLover98
For taking the time to review this fic. You guys rock!
Inspirations:
Living Legends/CPX Sports: For supplying the basis for this story. Living Legends is a fun scenario based paintball game hosted every year in Joliet, Illinois. Look it up on YouTube!
Jacob Edwards: A professional paintball player. Where I got the 'Hate' written across a headband idea from.
The Last of Us: This video game helped greatly with the characterization of Crowley towards the end. It's not a carbon copy, but I wanted to bring the sort of relationship shared between Ellie and Joel to the world of Ranger's Apprentice. You know, without the brutal murdering of zombies and other beings.
Mirror's Edge: Another game, where I also got tips regarding characterization from
John Flanagan: Honestly, if it hadn't of been for this man, I would've never found FanFiction, not to mention the Ranger's Apprentice series. One of my all time favorite authors, easily.
Dmitry Samarov: Wrote the book titled 'Hack'. This was the book that effectively cultivated my writing style, more prevalent in my newer work: 'Why Aren't I Home' and the later chapters of this fic.
Thanks for reading!