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…

The Rangers and The Moat

Having had coffee brought for himself and his visitor Crowley, commandant of the Ranger Corps smiled lightly as the fragrance of coffee and honey mixed. "Strange people, those Hibernians," he mused fondly.

"You do know I'm actually not Hibernian?" Gilan raised an eyebrow, the action being so alike what Halt always did that Crowley chuckled softly.

Gilan was not Hibernian, he was Araluen born, but five years of living with Halt, who was in fact Hibernian in addition to being Crowley's best friend, had put just a hint of that burr in his speech. Not enough for anyone to think he was native of the land, but just enough that when he echoed his mentors sentiment, he sounded almost exactly like him.

"Halt's been a terrible influence on you," Crowley shrugged.

"You're the one who said it was okay for him to mentor me," Gilan shrugged as he sipped his coffee.

"Halt never actually asked though, he pretty much told me he was taking you as an apprentice," Crowley shrugged as he reached for the sheaves of paper that Gilan had put on his desk. "Granted from what I already knew of you, I didn't exactly make any objections." He really hadn't, Gilan had distinguished himself at an early age at the battle of Hackham Heath. Showing courage, responsibility and true valor at the early age of twelve, so Crowley certainly had had no objection to making him an apprentice coming up on fifteen.

Most of their apprentices had not really had any experience before they were apprenticed, aside from the ones who had helped their family run small farms and businesses. Most of their youth had been spent running wild, getting into mischief and trying to figure out new ways to steal cookies and pies from unsuspecting housewives.

Gilan, from when he was nine had spent all his time in Battleschool, as he had started his official training at that age. He had learned to fight, and to serve the Kingdom as a knight. What little time hadn't been devoted to that training, he had spent running wild and getting into mischief…

Stealing cookies and pies though, Crowley suspected had been a little beneath him, as he preferred to go after bullies of all kinds and positions.

At fifteen, he was supposed to have been appointed as a full knight in service of the country. Crowley was immensely glad that he had recognized it was not for him, and that his father had had no objections as he acted on it.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings and he laid down the papers. It had been more of a pounding than a knock, though a fairly restrained one. Meaning, whomever it was had wanted to just barge in, but had recognized he was in no position to do so. Since the Ranger's answered directly to the King, there were really no one but the King who had the authority to do any such thing, except perhaps the princess. Though as she was somewhat small, Crowley knew she would have been unable to put such force in the knock. He cared very much for the princess, and she knew that. He had carried her home to King Duncan after her mother perished in childbirth, with the army ready to move as Morgarath had moved on them. The days he had spent on the road with her had left an impression, and he knew that she in turn regarded him with some fondness.

Castle Araluen, where he had his office was however filled with people of various degree of authority and importance, real, and imagined. "Come." As he imagined only someone with real authority would use such force, and yet such restraint at the same time, he figured it was best to be civil about it and find out who it was, and what he wanted.

As The Kings Supreme Battlemaster entered, he was not very surprised. Sir David was one of the foremost Knights in the Kingdom, and he certainly had earned every bit of authority he wielded. He was a firm, honorable man who adhered most strictly to his duty. He also tended to keep an eye out whenever Gilan was at the castle. A most natural thing, as he was also Gilan's father. Had he thought the man was unaware, Crowley would have sent word to him as soon as he was done with the report. He could understand David's need to see the young man, to ascertain that he was uninjured and in good health.

After all, he felt the same way himself. He and Halt had been friends for so long that he could not help but feel something of the same connection to his apprentices. Yet where Halt had drawn Will closer, he himself had found he did the same with Gilan. Sometimes, he worried that Halt had pushed Gilan away in favor of Will, though he knew the guilt that plagued his friend regarding the death of Will's parents.

Gilan tended to be a lot less demanding when it came to affection than Will, he merely took what was offered and counted himself lucky he was granted as much. David had always loved his son, but he had also always had to put duty first, and Gilan never expected anything else.

As he saw his father, Gilan stood, and inclined his head. "Sir," he greeted him.

It made Crowley curious, because even if the relationship between the two had always been stiff and formal, Gilan did usually at least use the term father to greet him.

"Commandant Crowley," David acknowledged. "I just received the report from Baron Hogden and Battlemaster Harrondale. A report regarding your conduct, Ranger Gilan, and I should hope you have a very good explanation for your actions. As I think you can imagine, they had it sent to me immediately upon your departure."

His cold tone, and the controlled anger in it took Crowley by surprise. You would never have guessed he was speaking to his son, but no doubt Gilan had known his father would be displeased, and that was what had caused his own tone of deference.

"Then I must admit I am indeed sorry, sir. For I had hoped they would have at least taken the time first to have a bath," Gilan stated, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Frowning, Crowley quickly scanned the report in front of him, glad for Gilan's tight and well controlled hand. If it was due to Battleschool, or his schooling before then he did not know, but the young man unlike some had a very easily readable hand that never took much effort on Crowley's part.

As he found the passage he wanted, he had to clench a fist under the table to keep from laughing. Suddenly Gilan's comment made so much sense, and he loved it.

"Ranger Gilan!" Sir David snapped. "I should have hoped that you understood the seriousness of the allegation against you. This might very well be an offence that shall see you stripped or rank, you might count yourself lucky if you escape with banishment once the King learns about this."

"I think sir, that that is for the King to decide. I answer to King Duncan foremost, and Commandant Crowley secondly. I am sorry, sir, but while I hold you in the highest regard, and have the greatest respect for you, I do not answer to you. Unless you are here on the King's authority, I will ask that I am allowed to make my report to my commander."

As he spoke, Crowley watched the young man, his tone was perfectly even and his tone was respectful, outwardly, he gave no indication of his feelings, but Crowley knew him well enough to see the shoulders tense and the muscles in his jaw. Gilan was hurt by the way his father had addressed him, deeply hurt. He was used to stiffness and formal tones, but to be threatened with banishment had to be very hurtful.

"Gilan…" Sir David's tone was suddenly a lot more desperate. "You threw the Baron, and his Battlemaster into the moat of their very own castle. Do you have any idea what kind of mess this will make?"

"Knowing what went into the moat just before them, a fair idea," Gilan stated and Crowley simply could not restrain himself any longer. He burst out laughing. The shocked look David gave him as he threw his head back in mirth only made him laugh harder, finally bringing himself under control and wiping tears from his eyes.

"I would have thought you at least could take this serious," Sir David gave the commandant a look of betrayal. "This is serious, it was bad enough when Halt did it…"

"Halt threw a Baron into a moat?" Gilan looked up, curious excitement on his features.

"Twice," Crowley mused. "After the first one, Baron Arald and Pauline felt it a good idea to send Alyss with him, to ensure that things remained calm, the second one rather insulted her…"

"That's alright then," Gilan shrugged. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"It was when you, Will and Horace were on the mission to Celtica," Crowly started, watching Gilan's face fall somewhat. The lad never had been able to forgo the guilt for what had happened then. Will's and Cassandra's capture and being taken to Skandia. It had not been his fault, he had acted the best he was able under the circumstances, and after he had left, the three youths had taken the task upon themselves to burn the bridge Morgarath had been building.

Just like Gilan, they had acted the best they knew, only it had it had had some disastrous effects. Neither Will nor the Princess Cassandra had ever carried any grudge against Gilan for it, both of them had accepted the events for what it was, ill fortune. Gilan however, was so much like Halt that way, he never fully could forgive himself for a crime he had never committed.

"Gilan, this is serious," Sir David exclaimed, his tone almost pleading, and Crowley was glad for the fact he distracted the youth from his self-damaging guilt.

"I should say," Gilan snorted. "The conditions there were deplorable, there wasn't one man in that Battleschool that could have fought his way out of a wet shirt. Their best man wouldn't have stood a chance against your greenest recruit here."

"I find it very hard to believe that a Battleschool should be in such a poor state," sir David frowned.

"The Ranger stationed there contacted me about it," Crowley interjected. "As he said he found it doubtful they were even half as proficient as they claimed. He openly admitted he was not the right to judge matters though, having no experience of it himself. Which is why I sent Gilan rather than Halt or Will, as I felt he would be the one best able to judge the conditions there. He had my full authority to act as he saw fit depending on his findings there."

"And this included throwing both Baron and Battlemaster into their own moat?" Sir David frowned.

"Well, I had not thought so, but as it played out, it seems it did," Crowley mused. "I was just reading the report myself, but from what I've seen so far, I should say they should count themselves lucky. They seem to have made themselves guilty of willful negligence and dereliction of duty."

"To put it mildly," Gilan snorted. "Both their quintains were rotted through and propped up, utterly useless. I couldn't find one sword that wasn't rusty, dull or both. Nine horses lame in the stable. Two sentries asleep on duty," his voice was cold as he made the report, anger he felt towards men who would take their duty so lightly. Given how Crowley knew he felt about it, the two men should very well count themselves lucky he had indeed not done anything worse but thrown them into their own moat.

Sir David, as he listened seemed to feel the same rage himself, for Crowley saw the tension settle in his jaw, and suddenly the older man looked a lot more like his son, with his eyes cold and angry. "I received a report from them not a month ago, stating the complete opposite, it contained it would seem, a completely fabricated set of facts."

"That's how I saw it," Gilan stated. "I advised them to explain themselves, rather than doing so, they tried to pull rank on me, and after I pointed out they did not in fact outrank me, they tried to intimidate me. When that didn't work, they tried to attack me, and it was then I felt sending them into the moat was a satisfactory solution, at least for me," he added with a grin.

"They attacked you, a King's Ranger?" David asked, voice carefully controlled and tight.

"Yes sir, I take it they did not care to mention that in their report?" Gilan raised an eyebrow. "Though it's hardly surprising, even so, I was well within my rights to defend myself."

"Yes, you were," Sir David shook his head. He turned towards Crowley. "My apologies for bursting in here, I hope you can understand my concern?"

"Certainly," Crowley nodded.

"Once you're through, would you mind if I wanted to read the report?" Sir David asked. "It would make it much easier if I had all the facts before I decide what to do with that mess."

"Of course," Crowley nodded. "As soon as we're through here, I could send Ranger Gilan up to you. He would be able to answer any questions you might have about it."

"Thank you, that would be most helpful," nodding to them, David left again.

"I like how they thought they would get away with their own version of the events," Gilan mused as he sat back down.

"I imagine they never considered the fact that the Ranger sent would be the Supreme Battlemaster's son," Crowley grinned as he picked up the documents again to scan them. At a point on the next page he gave a low whistle. "Speaking of the Supreme Battlemaster, why do I have a feeling that once he gets this, I'll have him back in here demanding answers?"

"Hm?" Gilan leaned across the desk to see the indicated section. "Oh, that, nothing important really."

"At which point Battlemaster Harrondale gave the order to have the King's Ranger attacked, with the intention of killing him," Crowley read aloud from the paper. "Since I assume, the Ranger in question was you, do you not think your father might in some way find this to be somewhat distressing? The order accepted by final year cadet Torgwyn who attempted to carry it out to completion," he continued. "I'm sure Sir David will be just thrilled a Battlemaster under his command tried to have his son killed..."

"I mostly added it in so King Duncan could use it if he wished," Gilan shrugged. "I don't think they were very serious about it."

"But this, cadet Torgwyn did try?" Crowley pressed.

"Well yes," Gilan shrugged. "Apparently he was their best cadet, which wasn't say much at all. It honestly was nothing more than a slight annoyance. The idiot started waving his sword around, wanted me to use mine, so I simply pointed out that unlike him, I actually knew what I was doing."

"And I assume he found out this was correct?" Crowley asked.

"He seemed to get that idea, yes," Gilan grinned. "I didn't do any permanent damage to him, I thought perhaps there was a chance they could be moved to another Battleschool to be trained properly, though they shall certainly have a time doing it. I think there's a few of them that will have to be let go."

"Probably is," Crowley agreed. "I need to go over this, and then pass it on to David, it will be up to him to decide what's done about it after all. Should I make sure you get quarters for the night, or will you stay with your father?"

"I though you might want me to head back right away?" Gilan raised an eyebrow. "After all, only reason I came here to report was because it was basically on the way."

"True," Crowley nodded. "Tomorrow will be soon enough though, both David and King Duncan might have questions for you. Not to mention the fact that your father will want to see you, on personal grounds... I don't think there is anything so pressing you can't at least stay for dinner?"

"Not that I know, no," Gilan decided. "It would be nice."

"Get out of here then," Crowley made a shoeing motion with his hand. "You just missed the midday meal, and it's a long while to supper, you can go past the kitchen and they'll give you something. If you don't know where it is, find Horace, I guarantee he knows. And once you've eaten, get up to your father. I might be done with this by then, and you can tell him more about it. Then just let me know if you need somewhere to sleep or not."

"I'm sure I can find something," Gilan shrugged.

Watching him go, Crowley was sure he would, if it was with his father or not. As the Supreme Battlemaster, Sir David had a quiet comfortable apartment at the castle. Crowley knew well where it was, having had reason to go past there occasionally. For the rest, he liked to keep himself appraised on what was going on around the castle. Sneaking about, as Duncan liked to call it, but as Crowley usually was pretty good at nosing out stuff whispered in dark corners, the King never seemed to mind.

David was not interested in luxury, but at his age, it was still not uncommon to appreciate a nice comfortable place to live. He was pretty sure there was room enough for Gilan there, but if the lad would take it was a different matter. Father and son really weren't all that close, even if Gilan had grown up following his father everywhere he went or just about. It was the stiff formal way David always acted, or so Crowley surmised. The man was a bit on the stiff side, always putting duty and protocol first.

That he had accepted Gilan's choice of career proved what a good man he was, and how much he loved his son. He might have refused, and it would certainly have created a rift between the two. Instead they might be somewhat estranged, David's stiff and serious manner such a contrast to that of his son, and Crowley wondered not for the first time what Gilan's mother had been like.

She had died giving birth to Gilan, just as the Queen Rosalind had died giving birth to the Princess Cassandra, and perhaps that to had served to bring David and Duncan together as close friends. It was a loss and a pain they shared, though it was clear how different they had raised their children. Only on rare occasions had Crowley heard Cassandra use the term 'father' rather than 'dad', and yet Gilan never said anything but. Unless like now, his form of address was even more formal and he said 'sir' to his father. A stranger would not have known the two of them were related.

Pritchard had during his training replaced his own father in his heart, and he knew Halt felt the same. With perhaps even more reason. There always tended to be a strong relationship between mentor and apprentice, and so had certainly been the case between him and Pritchard, and between Pritchard and Halt. That, as well as their close friendship had made him think of the grizzled Ranger as a brother as much as a friend.

Halt would never admit it, but Crowley knew he felt the same way. Then there were the kids, their boys, Gilan and Will. Perhaps the most amusing thing of all, because he saw so much of Pritchard in Gilan. A little less in Will, but it was there. It was a pang in his chest as he thought how much Pritchard would have liked the boys, how he would have shaken his head, nodded in approval, and happily thrown them into a river when they got too smart.

He had to bite down a laugh as he thought about how much Pritchard would have approved of Gilan's recent actions. Oh, he would have applauded it. Not the least because Pritchard had once done the same thing. A long time ago, during Crowley's first year as an apprentice in fact. It hadn't been the Baron himself, but the Baron's son, and Pritchard had decided he had had enough of the man.

It had been after a week of near constant rain, with the moat overflowing, and Crowley wasn't sure if that made it worse or better. Those things really were quite vile, and not somewhere where he ever wanted to risk winding up.

The man had not only taken on airs, and assumed rights he did not have, as his father was elderly and it was uncertain how much longer he would live. The young fool had sought to interfere with the affairs of the Rangers, and of the matters of the crown. Pritchard had very little patience for such things, and as Crowley watched, he had simply grabbed the fool by the neck and the back of his breeches, and had heaved him over the balustrade.

While his father was elderly and frail, his mind was still sharp and he had not only tolerated the action, but applauded it. As far as Crowley knew, it had actually served its purpose in that the man became better and more reasonable afterwards. Realizing that there would be those who did not fear taking him to task had done wonders for his general manners and disposition.

If Gilan hadn't known about Halt's actions, then Crowley was certain he had not known about Pritchard's. As far as Crowley knew, since Pritchard, no other Ranger had done it before Halt, and then now came Gilan…

He had to admit, that it really made him wonder about Will. If he learned the younger man had ever done the same, he wouldn't be one bit surprised about it. Pritchard had been a good man, a great Ranger and lesser men had left worse legacies behind them.

Chuckling to himself he rolled up the sheaves of paper again and tied the ribbon back in place. He'd let David read them before he filed them. The Supreme Battlemaster would not take kindly to the fact how they had mishandled the trust of running a Battleschool. He would be furious with them, and they would face consequences beyond what they had already suffered. Most likely, the man would be sentenced to hard labor, while the Baron would find himself having a most difficult time defending his actions to King Duncan.

Given his position as the Supreme Battlemaster, Sir David would most likely go there himself and see to it with a number of knights, and he certainly would waste no time doing it. Crowley only hoped he let it wait at least a day before he left.

So that before then, he could be a father to his son, at least for an evening.

The End

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