Will was still out on the porch when the sound of hoofbeats drifted into his ears. He uncurled from his fetal position and sat up, wiping his face and frowning in the direction of the hoofbeats. The sun had set an hour before, and he squinted in the haze of the descending twilight, unable to make out anything except the silhouettes of the trees outlined by greying pink and orange. The hoofbeats came from the direction of Castle Redmont, but that meant very little. No one ever came from any other direction, for that was the only path to get to Halt's house.
The hoofbeats neared. It was two horses, Will could tell, and as they got closer still he frowned. The hoofbeats were not the plodding ones of farm or packhorses, nor were they the heavy ones of the battle horses used by knights. No. These were light, quiet, and closely in sync with each other - close enough that Will could only tell there were two of them from his training. There was only one type of horse that moved like that. These were Ranger horses.
He remembered Halt telling him about the letters he'd sent to Gilan and Crowley. He grimaced, dread descending over him in the form of a cold sweat, made worse by the growing chill of the early October night.
Gingerly, Will stood, facing the path. He was far from ready to receive them in his current state. He was sure his face was still red and puffy and covered in the tell-tale signs of tears - Will always had been an ugly crier. Today was not the day he'd wanted his Commandant to find that out. His head had taken up a dull pound and his lungs weighed heavy. If he hadn't just spent the past two hours crying, he would've run off into the forest to do just that.
Will pulled the cowl of his cloak over his head and faded into the shadows as the first of the horses breached the clearing. It was taller than any other Ranger horse, as was its rider. The second, smaller horse was several paces behind. Both the riders had their faces exposed, and what Will could make out of them was exhausted. Will was familiar with that type of exhaustion. They must've been doing the Ranger's marching tactic of jogging alongside their horses every few hours. But Rangers only did that when they were traveling long distances without pause. Had Halt's letter really seemed that urgent?
At that thought, Will's face scrunched up and he was grateful for his cowl. Traitorous tears burned in his eyes at the thought of his master going to the trouble of asking them for help. Halt did not ask for help unless it were urgent - a matter of life and death. Yet this time he had, for Will.
Knock it off, he told himself, gritting his teeth. It's just because he couldn't manage you.
That refrain seemed more sour the longer he chanted it, but it was all he had.
Crowley and Gilan reined their horses in in the middle of the yard, dismounting with limbs stiff from exertion and fatigue. They led them into the stable next to Abelard and Tug. Will saw them glance back at the house and exchange looks. Gilan murmured something too quiet to make out, but from his pinched expression, Will could guess what it was. As a former apprentice to Halt, Gilan would know that Halt usually spent his evenings out on the porch. Even with the sky rapidly darkening, Halt would have been out there still.
But he wasn't.
The two Rangers rubbed their horses down quickly but thoroughly, giving them a few apples (and one or two to Tug and Abelard as well, for good measure), before exchanging glances once more and heading towards the house. Will fought the urge to tense as they got closer, reminding himself that that was the surest way to give himself away. For a moment he could've sworn Crowley's dark eyes flicked towards where Will stood, hidden behind a beam, but Crowley kept moving and Will relaxed.
"It's really quiet," Gilan murmured as the two Rangers got within ten feet of the house. "I don't like this. Halt never goes to bed this early, and Will doesn't either."
"They're - well, Halt is - a pretty quiet person," Crowley pointed out. "And it's not too late, one or both of them might be out still."
"Both their horses are here, though. It'd be odd for them to go so far away without their horses."
Crowley conceded that with a bare nod. They were almost to the porch now.
They stopped just in front of the steps. They paused, eyes searching the house, heads slightly cocked as though trying to hear any sound from within. Will grimaced. On a normal day, they would've been able to hear something: the clinking of a coffee mug on a table, the soothing rasp of a knife on a whetstone, the soft murmur of conversation. But tonight the entire house was blanketed in silence.
"I can't hear a thing," Gilan said, brow tightening. "What's going on?"
"Could be they're asleep already," Crowley said, lifting a shoulder. "But you're right. Something feels off. Maybe they had a fight?"
The guess made Will flinch and he promptly cursed himself for it. He held his breath, waiting for one of them to call him out on it, but they said nothing and appeared to not have seen him move. He let out a silent breath of relief.
"Well, let's try the door."
Crowley brushed past where Will stood and put his hand on the door to knock. It eased open as soon as he put his hand on it; Halt hadn't closed it behind him when he'd left, and Will hadn't bothered to shut it either.
"There's light on inside," Crowley murmured to Gilan. "Why don't you go see who it is and tell him we're here? Maybe ask him to welcome us properly while you're at it. I'll tend to the horses."
Gilan nodded and entered the house, closing the front door silently behind him.
Will had just breathed a sigh of relief when Crowley suddenly faced him directly.
"Alright, Will. You can come out now."
"C-Crowley!" Will flushed and hastily babbled, "I-I mean, C-Commandant Crowley, sir!"
Crowley's weathered face usually held some sign of good humor in it, much like Gilan. Tonight, however, it was bereft of it, in its place something heavy and serious. "You gave yourself away when you startled as soon as we came within ten feet of you. It was so slight I doubt you realized it, but it was enough for an experienced tracker like me to see it. You'll need to work on that."
Will opened his mouth, then shut it, awestruck as usual when faced with Crowley, as well as uncertain and dreading what was to come.
"Halt's inside, I take it?"
Will nodded mutely. When Crowley remained silent, waiting for him to continue, Will reluctantly did so. "He left a couple hours ago."
Crowley considered him. Something sad flashed across his face. "By 'left,' you mean that you had a fight and he walked away before he said something he'd regret."
Will gasped. Crowley regarded him with a sad smile, then tipped his head towards the forest. "Let's talk away from any prying ears."
Crowley moved without waiting for Will's response, leaving Will to bumble down the stairs and trot after his Commandant awkwardly. He couldn't help but admire Crowley's skill at silent movement: he seemed to glide over the ground like a ghost or winged creature. Will was quiet, but even his years of training hadn't made him silent.
They stopped a little ways into the forest, far enough that they wouldn't be able to hear or be heard by Gilan and Halt, yet close enough to still make out the fringes of Halt's house. Will bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot as his stomach knotted up in dread. The crickets had set up a soothing chorus in the background, but Will barely heard it. There were few things Will feared more than pissing off his Commandant - Crowley's disapproval had been a big reason he'd lied about the warmweed in the first place - and now that he'd admitted to fighting with Halt, Crowley's close friend, Will wished he could be just about anywhere else but here.
Crowley plopped down on the forest floor with a sigh and leaned back against a the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree, stretching his arms out with a yawn. "That Ranger's march truly never does get easier, no matter how many times I've done it," he commented ruefully. He looked up at Will. "Sit down, and don't look so scared. I promise I'm nicer than Halt."
Will winced. He sat down warily a few feet from Crowley, sitting up straight and poised, ready to run if he had to. Not that he thought it'd do any good, trying to run from a Ranger like Crowley, but he was too on-edge to act at ease.
"I-I know I shouldn't have fought with him, sir," Will started quickly, staring down at his hands. "I don't usually fight with him - I'm not a troublemaker, I swear, sir - I just-"
"Has Halt ever told you about our mentor, Pritchard?"
Thrown off by the abrupt change in subject, Will lifted his head to stare blankly at Crowley. The man cocked a brow at him, movement reminiscent of Halt's impatient expression. Will quickly scrambled to answer. "A little."
"As Halt might've told you, Pritchard is the one who trained both of us to become Rangers. As is usually the case between masters and apprentices, we were quite fond of him. You could say he was like a father to us."
Crowley trained his eyes up at the sky. The stars were beginning to come out now, and Crowley looked up at them like each of them held the words he was about to speak. Will watched, uncomfortable for several reasons. He wasn't sure he could take any more comparisons between Ranger master-apprentice relationships and father-son relationships, especially not after what he'd just told Halt. More than that, his Commandant suddenly saying something so personal was weird enough that his skin crawled with it.
"Pritchard trained me first in Araluen, before he was banished and fled to Hibernia. There he met Halt and trained him. We worked together, the three of us alongside the rest of the Rangers, to stop Morgarath. We drove him out, as you know, but Pritchard lost his life in a skirmish."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Will said softly.
Crowley tipped his head. "It was a long time ago. I've gotten used to it now. Back then, though, it was hard to bear. I became Ranger Commandant shortly after, and both Halt and I had so much to do to get the kingdom back together that we didn't give ourselves time to grieve. Halt especially. He never has been able to let himself rest."
Crowley sighed. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "There'll be a time for the full story later. Suffice to say, Halt kept all of his pain about Pritchard's death bottled up for a long time. Months. Years. And then - something happened that made it so he couldn't take it anymore."
Will fidgeted. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, Will," Crowley said quietly, "I've seen my friend in pain before. And it looks like this. I can tell from the way you're acting that your fight today - it was your fault, wasn't it? You started it."
Will bowed his head, unable to answer.
"I'm not angry at you," Crowley said. "On the contrary, I probably understand how you're feeling better than anyone. But just because you're in pain, that doesn't give you the right to bring it out on everyone else around you. That's selfish, Will."
Will bristled. Crowley didn't even know what they'd fought about. What gave him the right to lecture Will on his behavior? "I wasn't bringing it out on Halt, I was just-"
"Trying to drive him away?" Crowley finished dryly. When Will gaped at him, Crowley just sighed. "I told you, I know what you're going through. I've been there. I'm telling you all this so you don't make the same mistakes I did. Halt might not act like it, but he's a person. He has feelings. He can be hurt just like you. He can feel guilty just like you."
"What would he even feel guilty for?" Will asked, staring down at his hands, calloused and rough, scarred with frostbite from the paddles. "He's not the one who... who got addicted and- and- or, or the one who captured me or hurt me."
"He's the one who allowed it to happen."
Will flinched. Somehow, Crowley had perfectly voiced the deep, hidden anger within him that Will hadn't even known existed.
"I thought so. You're angry at him."
"Who else can I be angry with?" Will asked after a long, long pause. "The ones who hurt me - they're dead and gone. And the ones who're left are untouchable."
"I know. It's not just or right."
Will had nothing to say to that, because Crowley was correct. It was not. Will stared at his hands, at the ground, at the trees around them.
After a few moments, Crowley sighed. "It's not just or right for Halt either, though."
Will lowered his head even more, and again could make no response.
"Alright, I think my job is done for now. Let's go back." Crowley heaved himself up with a grunt, and Will followed, albeit hesitantly. "Your master better have prepared a place for me to sleep. These old bones of mine can't take the hard ground anymore."
"Mr. Crowley, sir?"
Crowley huffed out a laugh. "None of that 'mister' stuff, if you please. I feel old enough already. Besides, you're a Ranger. We don't put on airs with each other."
Will swallowed. "Uh, Commandant Crowley, sir?"
Shaking his head in amused exasperation, Crowley nevertheless waved him on. They had come back up to the house now; they had only a few seconds left before entering. Will fidgeted and took a quick breath.
"Does - do you think that Halt-" he stopped in his tracks, both word-wise and step-wise, ending up exactly four feet from the porch.
Crowley tilted his head, waiting for Will to continue. It was an oft-used Ranger tactic, waiting out the other person. People, as a rule, hated silence in social settings, and would often do anything to fill it. By not responding verbally, Crowley was putting more pressure on Will to speak. Unfortunately, just knowing about the reason behind it did not make it any easier for Will to bear. He hated awkward silences.
"Would he ever..."
Again, Will paused. He chewed on his lip nervously, nails digging unconsciously into flesh as he turned over his words in his head. He had never used to care so much about his words. He had only had to start when he'd started lying. Now he couldn't stop.
"Would Halt ever...?" Crowley finally said as the silence stretched on for longer, raising an eyebrow in such an exact imitation of Halt that it was unnerving.
Will opened his mouth, then rapidly shook his head. He switched topics. "Do you think, um, as a rule, that Ranger apprentices are - uh - replaceable?"
Crowley looked at him for a long moment. It was the same sort of careful, analytical gaze Will was used to from Halt. Getting it from the Commandant was, unsurprisingly, even worse. Will fought the urge to squirm.
"Rangers do not pick just anyone to be their apprentice, Will. We scout out all of our potential apprentices before they're ever asked. No Ranger would take on an apprentice that they did not think would succeed in the Corps."
Will shifted, mouth turning down at the corners. "But can they be easily replaced?"
Again, that searching look. Crowley took a fractional step closer, his expression softening in concern. "Will, are you afraid that Halt might-"
The front door to Halt's house cracked open, spilling soft, golden light onto the porch. Will whipped his head around to see Gilan standing there, expression the exact sort of awkward you get from realizing you've just interrupted something you shouldn't have.
"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Gilan said quickly, making to shut the door again. "You can go back to whatever you were saying, I'll just leave-"
"No it's fine," Will said just as quickly, jumping up the steps and grabbing the door before it could fully shut. "We were just finished talking, right?"
He looked back at Crowley pointedly and a bit pleadingly. Crowley sighed, shrugging defeatedly. "Sure."
The two of them stepped into the house. The sky had fully darkened in the time they'd been outside, so Will blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden influx of light coming from the fireplace and the two lamps Halt had lit. Will gave the room a quick perusal. Everything was exactly how it had been earlier in the day, save for the lamps being lit. Halt was nowhere to be seen.
Despite how little Will had wanted to see Halt again so soon after their fight, Halt's absence still made his stomach drop. Of course, it could have just been for some simple, reasonable cause such as Halt being tired, but Will couldn't help but think that Halt just didn't want to see him.
He looked up at Gilan, hoping his friend would understand his problem. Gilan smiled a little sadly and motioned him and Crowley closer to himself, leaning in to speak to them softly. "I talked with him and I think it's best if you both get some time away from each other to cool down."
Crowley nodded at that, but Will just felt more miserable. Did that mean Halt was really angry at him?
You wanted this to happen, his brain reminded him. You're the one who started it. You wanted Halt to get angry, but now you can't take it when he is?
No. No, he couldn't. Hypocrite that he was.
"You don't need to worry," Gilan said softly, putting a hand on Will's shoulder. Will didn't quite flinch, but it was close. He wasn't used to touch any more. "Halt isn't angry."
"Then why?"
Gilan closed his eyes briefly, considering how to respond. "I didn't know where you were at, and quite honestly, Halt needed the rest. You know how he gets when something upsets him."
No. No, Will didn't. Halt had never really been upset around Will. Annoyance over training or frustration at paperwork or even the terror of the Kalkara or I will find you, Will! None of that was the same as now.
"He doesn't let himself rest," Gilan said, seeing Will's confusion. "Halt never likes to rest until whatever's upsetting him is over. It takes a lot to get him upset, but once he is..."
The sickening feeling was only growing. Will stared at the floorboards. They could use a good mopping, he thought absently. For once, he was actually eager to do it, if it would get Halt feeling better again.
"What he needs right now is rest, not more stress. Looking at you, I think you're the same. You need to sleep, Will. Things are usually better after a good night's rest."
That, or they're just the same, Will thought morosely, but nodded anyway. "Where will you two be sleeping?"
At that, Gilan grimaced. "Well, there's a couch."
Crowley shook his head, looking exasperated. "After all these years, Halt still never prepares when he has guests coming over. I'll take the couch, you can sleep on the floor. I'm your senior, after all."
Gilan glared good-naturedly at him. "In more ways than one," he said, nimbly dodging Crowley's foot when it came for him.
"You're lucky you're a halfway decent Ranger, you know that?" Crowley muttered. "Otherwise I'd have expelled you long ago."
Gilan clutched a hand at his heart. "And all this time, I thought you were keeping me for my pretty face!"
Will laughed. Gilan gave him a cheeky grin and tilted his head in the direction of Will's bedroom. "Go get some rest, Will. Everything'll be better come morning."
Will grimaced but moved off to his room. "Sure. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Gilan and Crowley called, before returning to their discussion about who would sleep where.
Will closed his door to shut out their voices, shucked off his shoes, and fell into bed. Despite how weary he was, sleep eluded him for hours after.
A/N: shout out to the lovely people who read through and leave a comment on every chapter of my works, y'all are the real mvps and nothing makes me happier than seeing one of you ranting about something in a comment and me having to go look at the chapter you commented on to make context of your rant. really love it! also i REALLY love when y'all mention specific things i've done in my stories that you either liked or didn't like. ofc, every comment and review of yours is one i am grateful for - in no way do i think i'm entitled to any of this! i just wanted to let y'all know what i (and probs other writers too) specifically enjoy and am grateful for :) really, thank you.
also sidenote: ever since i've become more active on discord i've started typing lowercase (faster + easier). do y'all mind if i type in lowercase for author's notes? or does it look unprofessional? i'd like some honest answers pls lol. as a writer who wants to go professional i want to start getting a feel for these things. obvs the actual story will use proper capitalization, i'm really just talking about these notes.