Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, made possible by the Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. I have only borrowed his creation and I make no money. For this story I have used several other Rangers from the books, though I've also added my own. I do this only in the hope to entertain…

Author's Note: No harm shall come to the characters that can't be fixed with enough coffee…

Chapter 24

Sliding off of Abelard's back Halt gritted his teeth, seething as Crowley dismounted beside him. Over the course over the last few days they had closed the distance between themselves and the band they were following. Ashes were fresher in their camps, hoofprints were clear and crisp on the ground. While it meant they were closing in on their pray, it also meant they had to be much more careful, and a rider crossing over a rise would be spotted far too easily.

For the very same reason they had been eating mostly cold food, leftover meat wrapped in bread. Jerky with dried fruit and nuts, not a very satisfying fare, but not too bad. The fact no fire meant no coffee bothered them more, as they had to make do with cold water from their canteens bothered him more.

That was not why he was seething though, it was because he was so close, and yet so far away. If he got there, only to find out they were too late…

He could not allow to think that way he knew, if they rushed, if they got careless, it would be just as bad. Even if Gilan was alive, and the band spotted them, they might kill him for spite.

Beside him, Crowley was giving Cropper a good scratch behind the left ear.

"We need to stop and rest the horses soon," the sandy haired commandant stated.

Halt opened his mouth to object, then sighed and ran a hand over his salt and pepper beard. "I suppose so," looking at Abelard, he could tell the horse agreed.

"The worst thing we can do now is to get careless," Crowley added. He knew Halt knew it as well as he did, but sometimes when it came to his apprentices, Halt could get a little impulsive. Like a cranky momma bear with a sore tooth and two teenage sons, before her morning coffee… was a more apt description according to Crowley. He knew better than to remind Halt about this, as he'd just get a lecture about how he was the same sometimes. He was, he knew it, and it did not bother him. He'd protect Halt with his dying breath if it came to that, and he would not regret it. He felt the same way about Gilan, and Will. He would do it for all the Rangers, out of duty and respect, but those three were special.

It would always be different with them, and he felt no shame for it. It was only natural after all.

Now he grinned as Halt glared at him, it was the result he had expected after all. "The way I see it, we can stop just after the rise, and we can give them a good rest there. Or, we push on a bit further and down by that cliff face, I think there's a cave. We could hide out there, and risk a small fire for a bit. A hot meal, a mug of coffee, it would do us both good."

Halt considered the two options for a moment, as much as he hated the idea of stopping, both options held merit, but one had coffee. "We move on and see if we find that cave," he decided.

"I thought you would see it that way," they moved carefully over the rise, at the side of the road, by the trees. That way, anyone looking their way would not see them outlined against the sky.

Once they had passed the rise, they mounted the horses again. Crowley had a rough idea of where he had been told there was a cave. It paid to keep track of all those little things that one was told. It was not easy, but it paid off. Not everyone was able to do that thought. Not everyone in the corps could do it, and not everyone in the corps were as good as the rest of them.

After Morgarath tried to steal the throne, there had only been about a handful of them. Few were left to start with, a few were killed. They hadn't been able to keep the standard he would have wanted fully, or they would still not have had a full compliment of Ranger's.

Some claimed Gilan had been luck, some claimed Halt and Crowley gave him preferential treatment. In some ways, both statements were true. They had been lucky to get Gilan, as he might very well have gone in the footsteps of his father, and no doubt he would have been King Duncan's Battlemaster when his father retired. He would have been as good as Sir David, or better. Halt and Crowley both gave him a form of preferential treatment, but it was nothing special. All the Ranger's did that with their apprentices, it was only natural. Pritchard had certainly indulged him from time to time, and there were times he had been a right menace and he knew it. Almost as energetic as Gilan, young and inexperienced with a desire to see and learn it all. Pritchard was always chiding him for going too fast, for not taking the time he needed to fully see what he was facing, and for losing his temper.

He was right about all of it, and yet at the end of every day, no matter if Crowley had made one mistake or ten, Pritchard would sit him down with a mug of coffee. Explain why it was wrong, and shake his head as he made certain none of the cuts and bruises were serious.

Much like Halt had done with Gilan, except he forced the poor boy to put honey in his coffee, a really cruel thing to do to your apprentice really…

"What's so funny," Halt suddenly demanded and he realized he had been chuckling to himself.

"I was thinking of when I was an apprentice," he mused. "Pritchard was a really good mentor…"

That, was a statement Halt would agree whole hearted with, but one he wouldn't admit agreeing with. "If he had had any sense, he would have thrown you in the river…"

"He did several times," Crowley grinned. "And if you say he never threw you into a river, I'll call you a liar."

At that, Halt gave a non-committed grunt, he would like to claim it, but Pritchard had very direct methods of teaching. Very effective, and very direct, and he was probably the best man Halt had ever known. In some ways, he held Pritchard higher than even Crowley. It hadn't taken long for Pritchard to take the role Halt would have wished his father to hold.

If he got ahead of himself, Pritchard would throw him into a river, or something else, but he always seemed to know when Halt needed a little encouragement, and when he honestly doubted his owns skill. He never praised what he did not have, saying that was doing him no favour, but he praised him for what he did do right.

"He was a good man, the best," he remembered how Crowley had rushed forward to hug him after he had thought he would never see him again, and how Pritchard though he was nearly crushed had seemed to enjoy it.

He also remembered how devastated Crowley had been when they found his dead body after Morgarath and his men killed him…

"He would have loved Gilan…" Crowley shook his head sadly.

"He would have thrown him into a river…" Halt snorted, but he knew the sandy haired Ranger was right. Gilan would have suited Pritchard perfectly. "He would have been shocked that there was another one as horrible as you."

"You threw Gilan into a river," Crowley grinned at him. "As I recall it, to encourage him…"

"It worked," Halt shrugged, thinking back fondly to the dripping wet kid that stood in front of him, uncertain what to do and what to think of it all. "He was pretty cocky coming after me, and not half bad, but he needed to take a few points before I could train him. His father told me he'd spent two years trying to learn how to sneak about on his own, boy was a menace, to himself and everyone else. Free climbing the towers, sneaking out at all hours of day and night, he would have got himself killed in a week…." he broke off, shaking his head.

Crowley gave him a sympathetic look, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "He might still be alive Halt, he might be okay…"

"They wanted revenge on me…" Halt shook his head. "They wanted me to know I failed him…"

"They don't know Gilan, they might have underestimated him," Crowley tried to comfort him. Spotting the landmark that would lead them to the caves he nudged Cropper to leave the road, Abelard following without the need of encouragement.

"If that boy is still alive…." Halt broke off.

"You'll rant and rage at him, because heaven forbid you tell him how much he means to you, which he knows anyway," Crowley smiled softly.

"I'll throw him into the river…" Halt growled. "I should throw you in to, you know…"

Crowley just grinned as he ducked a low branch, that Halt passed without the need to duck. Halt cared, it was why he growled as he did at them, it was his way of showing he cared…

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…