Work Text:
“I – listen.”
Crowley’s the Ranger Corps’ Commandant – he’s in charge of looking after all of Araluen, he assesses all threats, he deals with the King and Halt on a regular basis. He also talks to his horse, like every other good man he knows.
Cropper’s ears flick back towards him, and he toes the ground as if to say, yes, okay, I’m listening. I’m not saying I’ll find it important, but say whatever you have to say.
“Bastard,” Crowley mutters affectionately, scratching the fuzz of hair just above his withers. “Most well-trained horse in the whole country and you won’t even walk through some tall grass.”
I could walk through the grass, Cropper replies, unaffected, staring serenely at the expanse of neck-high grass in front of them. But I could also not walk through the grass. If we went through the forest I wouldn’t have to deal with any burrs. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with any burrs. Doesn’t that just sound better for both of us?
Crowley looks to his left where the forest curves around – thick and dark, but with relatively little underbrush. It’ll take an extra forty minutes to go through the forest instead of cutting across the field, but… damn. Cropper always brings a good argument.
“Fine,” Crowley says, leaving his hands in his lap to keep the loose rein and turning Cropper with his leg. “We’ll do it your way.”
Happy to help, Commandant.
--
Crowley’s loath to admit how much he enjoys the ride through the forest. Maybe it’s the mid-morning sunlight dappling the dark leaves, the rustling of playful squirrels, or the peaceful silence of the woods. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been swamped with paperwork at the castle, barely able to get out to exercise and groom Cropper, never mind leave the castle grounds for a sustained period of time. He’s never felt farther removed from who he is as a Ranger, and he’s secretly nervous about how his skills have held up. Halt, who gets to live in the woods and stay close to Pritchard’s teachings, doesn’t have to deal with this kind of responsibility, he thinks to himself as he rolls his neck. He’s trying to remove the constant crick that developed from hunching over his desk most of the day.
When his neck finally cracks, he sighs with relief and pats Cropper’s neck.
“Thanks, boy,” he whispers softly, and his horse snorts. Crowley can almost imagine one of Cropper’s big brown eyes winking at him. He sits back in his saddle and makes himself comfortable – there’s not far to go, now.
There’s been a series of raids all around central Araluen in the last couple of months. Crowley knows the phrase “one riot, one Ranger,” but it’s clear that the attacks are connected and patterned, so he’s arranged a small meeting. Ten other Rangers from the most affected fiefs and himself are gathering between Redmont and Araluen to go over what they’ve learned and maybe throw off the bandits. None of the fiefs have been left undefended - he’s switched around some Rangers to protect the people while this meeting occurs. Every Ranger has a slightly different style when it comes to tackling a problem, and the bandits seem to know the habits of the Rangers in the fiefs they’re targeting. Crowley hopes that the application of a different, but still entirely effective Ranger will give them enough of an upper hand while they discuss how to eliminate them entirely.
As Crowley thinks about this, Cropper shakes his mane and chuffs.
See, his horse says. This is why you’re the Commandant. It’s good thinking.
“I do a lot of thinking and not a lot of doing, these days,” Crowley says under his breath, but pets Cropper’s shoulder as a thank-you.
Thinking leads to doing. You’re still a Ranger. You’ve got me, after all – you know a Ranger horse would kick off an imposter.
Crowley’s not above admitting he laughs at his horse’s jokes. Cropper continues stepping carefully over twigs and young trees as they curve around the forest.
Crowley and Cropper hear the snapping sound at the same time. In an instant, Crowley has an arrow nocked and held half-ready across his thigh, leaving his reins tied up on Cropper’s neck though he sits up in the saddle. Cropper’s ears stand alert, tilted in the same direction Crowley’s looking. Both of them realized the snapping came from above, not below Cropper’s hooves, and was too heavy to indicate any sort of small woodland creature. Someone was in the forest with them.
There’s a shuffling sound and then a quiet: “Oh, for God’s sakes.” Crowley relaxes his arm a little. The voice is young and male, with a hint of self-frustration – probably not someone who means Crowley harm. He guides Cropper to move silently through the forest until they’re right under the sound. He looks up.
There’s a young lad in the branches of the tree above him – dark curly hair and… Ranger clothing. An apprentice, then? He’s balanced securely, if somewhat precariously, on one of the higher branches. Crowley sees the problem immediately – the branch under him is nearly broken. It surely won’t hold his weight on the way down. He smiles to himself. An apprentice mistake, sure, but the boy did well to get all the way up there in the first place. It’s an excellent tree, hidden enough in the foliage to hide the boy unless you were right beneath him, but tall with far-reaching branches so the boy had a good vantage point.
“Hello,” he says amiably, making a show of shielding his eyes as he gazes up at the boy, who’s noticed him and gone completely still. That’s well done, too. “Would you like a hand?”
“I’ve got two, which is usually enough,” the boy says, seemingly a knee-jerk reaction, because he follows it up by going bright red and saying “ – uh, sir.”
Crowley’s caught by surprise by the joke and laughs, throwing his head back. He’s laughed more today than he has in the past two weeks. He thinks the boy catches sight of the silver Ranger leaf glinting around his neck, because he’s an even more alarming shade of red when Crowley opens his eyes again.
“Sir, I mean –“
“It’s alright,” Crowley says, waving a hand. “I thought it was funny. I assume you’re here with one of my Rangers, then?”
“One of your – oh. Commandant Crowley, sir!”
“Crowley is fine,” he replies, equally baffled and flattered by the address. “You clearly know me, but you are…?”
“I’m Will, sir, I’m –“
“ – Halt’s apprentice,” Crowley finishes for him, realization dawning. “Of course.”
Halt would be one of the only Rangers at this meeting that would have a current apprentice. And Will. Crowley remembers a boy in the crowd when that ship sailed back into port from Skandia, the ship that brought his friend and his best Ranger home. It’s no real surprise that he didn’t recognize Will, though – the boy at the port was a shadow of a child, skinny and pale, with hands that shook and haunted eyes. The boy in the tree was a healthy young man, clearly well on the way to being a talented Ranger. Part of Crowley wondered how good his unseen movement was – he liked teaching apprentices a couple of his secrets.
The other part of Crowley was still caught on the fact that this was Will. He was thrown by meeting him without Halt present – and he stopped to look around, wondering if Halt was around somewhere and he just hadn’t spotted him, but the other Ranger was nowhere to be found. This was the boy Halt committed treason for, the one Pauline speaks so highly of, the apprentice whose disappearance had Gilan beyond distraught. The one that everyone recognizes as Halt’s son in all but legal name. Crowley’s felt like the odd man out for a while now, having never met the boy. And here he was, stuck in a tree.
“Well,” he says, shaking himself out of his own reverie and smiling reflexively up at the boy. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Will. Can you get down from there with those two hands of yours?”
The boy hesitates, and Crowley frowns.
“Will, you do know there’s a meeting we’re both meant to be at soon, yes?”
“I get to go to the meeting?” Will asks, looking delighted. He schools his expression quickly at Crowley’s raised eyebrow. “I mean, sir, I – I sprained my knee a week ago. Halt actually told me not to climb, because I would have trouble getting down if something like this happened, but I thought my knee was better, now, so... well, the point is, sir, that I could use a hand, if you’re willing.”
Crowley snorts. Cropper shifts his weight suddenly, jostling Crowley in the saddle.
Don’t start. How many times did you find yourself in trouble after doing something Pritchard expressly told you not to?
“It was a good-natured snort!” Crowley protests.
“What?”
“Nothing, Will. Of course, I’m willing. Let me hop off Cropper, here, and then you can jump down.” He puts his bow away and swings his leg over, getting off Cropper’s back. His horse, understanding, walks forward and then turns around, muzzle twitching in amusement.
“I’m jumping down?” Will asks skeptically. He stands up on the branch, though, placing his hands on the trunk for extra balance.
“I’ll catch you,” Crowley promises, opening his arms a little in encouragement. “It’s not that far down. And I’m not that out of shape.”
“Okay,” Will says, and to his credit, bends his knees and prepares to jump. “Um, now?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Crowley confirms, and braces his own knees. He sees Will nod and count down, stepping off the branch on three. He set himself up to not hit too many little branches on the way down, but Crowley still hears the whipping sound of a couple twigs snapping against the boy’s skin. Crowley catches him easily, avoiding his bad knee – Will’s small for his age, and Crowley’s fairly tall – and hoists him up by his armpits to set him down firmly on the ground.
“There we are,” he grins down at the boy as Will brushes himself off and smiles back at him.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Commandant. I don’t suppose you’ll consider not telling Halt about this?”
Crowley laughs again. He already knows that he’s going to think about Halt training this boy whenever he needs a thought to cheer him up, which he needs a lot these days. “I’m very sure he’ll figure it out, Will. You’re all scratched up! But I won’t let him give you too much trouble – God knows he’s had enough of his own moments in the past.”
Will’s entire face lights up. “Has he really?”
“Come on,” Crowley says, deflecting with a genuine smile and gesturing to Cropper. “We still have a meeting, apprentice. I’ll give you a ride on Cropper, here. I’m sure Halt’s wondering where you’ve gotten off to by now.”
As Crowley mounts his horse again, Will pats Cropper’s nose with a dutiful: “Hello, Cropper,” before getting on behind him. Cropper nickers in approval.
We’ll have to keep him, Commandant.
Crowley agrees.
--
“Berrigan, have you seen Will?” Halt’s old friend turns to him at the question and opens his mouth, but Halt holds up a hand. He’s so tired.
“Not black-haired Will, or Will Colson, or the Will that’s over there by the coffee,” he continues wearily. Will-by-the-coffee raises his mug in acknowledgement to Berrigan’s raised eyebrow. “My Will. My apprentice, Will.”
“…how many people named Will are here?” Berrigan asks in bewilderment, looking at Tally sitting next to him, who shrugs.
“Five,” Halt says, sighing. “Not including mine. He makes six. Or he would, if I could find him.”
The cluster of Rangers look at each other nervously. Shiloh, a new Ranger, looks out at the other Rangers milling about.
“What are the odds that five out of ten Rangers in one meeting are all named Will?”
Sam makes a considering face, either not seeing or foolishly ignoring Halt’s glower. “It’s a pretty common name. There are three of us named Sam, too.”
“What, really?”
“So none of you have seen him?” Halt interrupts, glaring. The four shake their heads and offer muttered apologies.
“We’ll keep an eye out, though. And where’s Crowley, anyways? He should be here by now.”
--
Cropper trotted a little faster. He’d picked up on the smell of coffee a minute or so back, and increased his speed in anticipation of Crowley’s command.
“Please?” Will was saying, craning his head over Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley was valiantly attempting not to smile. “Just one story?”
“Sh,” Crowley says conspiratorially. “We’re too close to camp, now. Halt has a sixth sense for when people are telling stories about him.”
Sure enough, Cropper slowed down right at the edge of camp, situated in the exact location Crowley requested in his messages. A Ranger was seated, wiping down his tack, as another approached.
“Will!” The walking Ranger called out, and Will sat up straighter behind Crowley, but the seated Ranger also looked up. “I think Halt’s looking for you.”
“I’ve never even met him.” The Ranger puts away his cloth and drapes the bridle over his shoulder, standing up. “Are you sure he’s not looking for you, Will?”
Crowley looks over his shoulder at Will, a brow raised.
“I think Halt’s probably looking for this Will,” Crowley notes, steering closer to the two Rangers. They both look up, and a third face comes out from behind the row of horses.
“Oh, have we found him? Hey! We found Will!”
“The right Will?” Someone else shouts.
“Yeah!” The first Ranger shouts back. “Halt’s Will!”
“The apprentice? Are we really sure? I don’t want to bring the wrong Will again!”
Crowley hops off Cropper and helps Will down, being careful of the boy’s stiff knee. He hides his smile behind his saddle flap as he runs up his stirrups and loosens the girth. Will can still see his face, but Crowley doesn’t think he’ll tell on Crowley’s obvious amusement, seeing as the boy’s smiling himself. Cropper swats him with his tail.
Laugh at your own men some other time! Preferably when you’re bringing me an apple later.
It’s the smell of coffee, the voices of his friends, the smell of his saddle leather that he barely gets to use. It’s the fact that he knows Halt is probably marching across camp right now, it’s the young man standing alert and happy next to him: the future of his Corps and the son of his closest friend, who he’s finally, finally gotten to meet. Crowley is so glad to be here. Even if it is just to figure out how to get rid of some bandits.
When he brings his face out of his saddle and strokes Cropper’s neck, he catches sight of Halt making his way over to them. He sees the exact moment his friend spots Will – the relief, the exasperation.
“Will,” Halt sighs, coming to a stop right in front of his apprentice and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Will grins up at him. “What did I tell you on our way here?”
“You told me to not climb anything because of my knee, and you told me to not wander off without telling anyone,” Will starts, and Halt nods, opening his mouth, presumably, to continue chastisement, but Will continues quickly. “But I was with Crowley! And he told me it was okay to jump out of the tree.”
“What are you talking about –“ Halt whips his head over to his friend, but stops, blinking. Crowley’s leaning against his horse for support, laughing, and Will’s grinning over at him. Halt looks to Cropper for answers.
Will’s an excellent boy, Cropper notes, bearing Crowley’s weight easily. Halt already knew this, but it’s always nice to have confirmation from Cropper. And Crowley thinks he’s a delight. It was good of you to bring him.
“I will not provide any details of the incident in question other than to say that I am innocent,” Crowley states, wiping his eyes as his laughter peters off. He flips Cropper’s reins over his head and leads his horse away. He slaps Halt on the shoulder as he passes.
“He’s got what it takes, though,” Crowley whispers to his friend. “He’s going to be a great Ranger.” Halt and Will watch him go, one in pleased confusion and the other in oblivious fondness.
“He hasn’t laughed like that in a long time,” Halt says quietly as he turns back to Will, mouth drawing down in a frown as he examines the red scratches on his boy’s face. Will tilts his head, a little confused.
“Really? He laughed a lot earlier. And I’m sorry for climbing – I really thought I could do it. But I was lucky Crowley came along and caught me. I would’ve been stuck if he hadn’t come through the forest.”
“I would’ve come to get you eventually,” Halt acknowledges distractedly as he takes leaves out of Will’s hair. “But you can always trust Crowley to get you out of a tough spot.”
“Yes,” Will agrees, looking at the red-haired man walk away, mumbling to Cropper. “I know I can.”