Ignoring History - Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 27

~☕Crowley☕~

Crowley glanced up at the horizon. After a day of hard riding, he had long lost track of time. There was only a few hours left before the sun would set. Halt would be able to make it to Gorlan by then, but the rest of them would have to wait until the next day to reach Castle Araluen.

Turning in his saddle, he looked at his companions. They seemed to be holding up well for being stuck on a saddle for hours on end. Crowley frowned when he turned back around, stroking Cropper's mane. Even if they didn't show it, he knew that they must have been tired. Plus, he was tired himself. Throughout the whole day, they had only stopped once for the horses. It wasn't even a long stop. Just long enough for everyone to gather their bearings and munch on a few pieces of jerky.

Crowley sighed. He unscrewed his canteen and took a swig. Cool coffee ran down his throat, bitter with just a hint of sweetness. It wasn't as great as a steaming hot mug, but he couldn't complain. Coffee was coffee. Well...

Crowley straightened in his seat. He could name one person who could ruin a good coffee. And he just so happened to be the very one who would be parting with the company that afternoon.

Tugging on Cropper's reigns, Crowley nodded at Egon, who took his place at the front. Cropper slowed, letting everyone pass. Crowley smiled when Halt reached his side. It didn't surprise him that he had an eyebrow raised, his eyes giving off the same beady look it had whenever he did so.

Crowley huffed a laugh, leaning forward. He pressed his fist into his cheek, grinning when Halt rolled his eyes.

"I think I'd prefer it if you whistled instead."

Crowley let out a snort. Shaking his head, he settled back down into his saddle. "I think I will," he said, making no moves to start up a song. He looked up to check the time again, his smile falling. He took a breath.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Probably not," Halt said. He shook his head, looking forward. "No one's ever going to be ready for what happens."

"Speaking from experience?"

"What makes you think that?"

Crowley shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "You just look as if you've had a rough past." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "You sound like it too."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Am I wrong though?"

Halt didn't answer.

Chuckling, Crowley reached out to give Halt's shoulder a pat. "Let's play a game."

"You want to play a game now?" Halt gave him an incredulous look.

"Why not? Everybody loves games."

"I don't."

Crowley ignored him. "We take turns asking each other questions. Answers must be truthful. You can start."

"Do I have to play?"

"Yes. My turn." Crowley paid no attention to the glare Halt shot his way. He scratched his chin. "You came here from Gallica, but your Gallican is terrible and your accent doesn't add up. Where are you from?"

"Hibernia."

Crowley waited for an explanation, but it never came. He blinked. "You're not going to explain?"

Halt crossed his arms. "You didn't ask."

Crowley groaned, dramatically raising his hand to his forehead. He grunted when Halt looked away, muttering to himself. They went on in silence for a few minutes before Crowley spoke. "It's your turn."

"I know."

"Then, ask a question!"

"If I ask a question, then you'll end up asking me another."

Crowley choked on his spit. "You're unbelievable."

Halt, once again, didn't answer, and Crowley sighed. He shook his head, turning away. The silence went on until he had forgotten that they were playing a game. However, when Crowley finally decided to go back up front, Halt spoke.

"Why do you want to remove Morgarath from the throne?"

Crowley spun around in surprise. He blinked. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You can't answer a question with another question."

Crowley met his eyes, his mouth forming a thin line. He bit down on his lip. "Morgarath doesn't deserve to be king," he said. "He cheated his way to that position, and nothing good has come out of it. He wastes our resources and drains the worth out of our coin. He has our army out on a field, where they are expected to fight for something that no one but him wants. Our treaties have been broken, and there has been more crime during the last sixteen years than the hundred before.

"All Morgarath wants is power. He is too ambitious, too greedy. He'll turn Araluen into dust."

Halt nodded, deep in thought. He frowned to himself. "I see."

"Why did you leave Hibernia?"

"There was nothing for me there," he said. "I figured I could start a life here, but things didn't go as planned. I didn't become an assassin on purpose, you know."

"I never said you did."

Halt nodded, and it didn't take long for him to ask another question. "Why do you trust me?" he said.

Humming to himself, Crowley drew his brows together. He thought for a second. "If you were lying to us, you would've already slain Baron Arald. And I have no doubt that Lady Pauline would have gone down with him, seeing as she let you out." Crowley didn't miss the flush of Halt's cheeks when he mentioned the courier, and he smirked, storing the information for later.

"I don't think you're as frightening as other people think, Halt. I don't think you're as frightening as you think. You deserved a second chance whether you think it or not."

"It was a gamble."

"Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I don't regret it."

Halt looked down at his hands. "Thank you."

Crowley smiled. "Thank you for joining us," he said, pausing before his next question. "Someone must have taught you what you know. You have the skill of a ranger. Who?"

"There was a ranger," Halt confirmed. "He came to Hibernia after Morgarath removed him from power. We met, and he agreed to train me."

"What was his name?"

"That's two questions," Halt said, but he answered it anyway. "He called himself Pritchard."

Crowley couldn't believe his ears. He stopped Cropper in his path, frozen in shock. The hairs of his arms bristled. "What?" he gaped. "Pritchard?"

"You know him?"

"Of course I know him! He was my mentor!" Crowley's eyes widened. "Where is he now? Is he well?"

"He was still in Hibernia last we spoke," Halt said. "I haven't heard from him in awhile."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Crowley said, pushing his hair back. "I can't believe it!" he laughed. "You! He trained you! This is—"

"Crowley!"

Crowley stopped mid sentence. He turned. "Yes?"

"We're here."

Blinking, Crowley looked around. "Oh," he said. Lady Pauline gave them a knowing look, and Crowley wondered if she had heard their whole conversation. He pushed the thought aside and turned to Halt. He held out a hand.

"I wish you the best of luck, Halt," he said, smiling. "I'll see you soon." His grin widened. "And maybe we can talk about getting you one of these oakleaves."

Halt didn't hesitate when he took his hand. He shook it, bowing his head. "I think I'd like nothing more," he said. "Good luck."