To be a Commander

The Early Years: Halt's POV

Halt was sitting in an inn when he saw him.

Wearing a mottled cloak just like his. A glint of silver on his neck. Double-knife scabbard. Longbow.

A Ranger.

Despite himself, Halt felt a surge of admiration bubbling up in his stomach. The redhead fought with a grace and skill that could only be earned through years of training. And if there wasn't a timber column right behind him, Halt could sense that the three men attacking the Ranger would be mincemeat.

Stepping forwards, Halt spoke up.

"I think you should turn him loose." he said, making sure to keep his worry inside.

The soldiers and the ranger turned. Halt could feel the redhead's eyes on him. Watching. Assessing.

Later, when the fight was over, the ranger introduced himself as Crowley Meratyn. The Ranger of Hogarth Fief. And though he gave no sign of noticing his small slip-ups, Halt could tell that Crowley knew he was keeping a secret. He was grateful that Crowley didn't press it, though. Somehow, he knew he would be friends with this jokester for a long time.

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They were a group of five. A group that, Halt knew, would soon be running around like headless chickens. Dangerous, yes, but without cohesion.

They needed a leader.

Without any further thought, Halt knew it would be Crowley. His crazy friend had a very measured, open view of things. It was a good quality. He was also careful and made sure to take advice from everyone. The fact that he was the one to start the plot to overthrow Morgarath didn't hurt, either.

When he suggested Crowley, the redhead sat straight up, shock gleaming in his eyes. Another thing that told Halt he was right for the job. Crowley was humble. He, Halt noticed, tended to put others before himself. Both a disadvantage and an advantage. But Halt knew that Crowley wouldn't let his power get to his head.

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Later, when Halt married Pauline, he caught a glimpse of his lifelong friend. There were tears in his eyes. Of happiness, yes, but also of sadness.

In that instant, Halt knew that Crowley liked Pauline. Probably since he had met her. However, like the good friend Crowley was, he didn't let his jealousy to get to their friendship. 

As Crowley caught his eye, Halt nodded in gratitude. And Crowley smiled. Halt knew that Crowley would forever be sad about it. But he made no move towards them

Halt would be eternally grateful.

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They found him dead, lying in his bed. A smile on his face and a glimpse of humour in his eyes.

As two tears ran down his face, Halt thought, somewhere far away from the haze of grief that clouded his mind, how fitting it was that his prankster friend died with a smile. It was good that he'd died happy.

And as Halt sat next to his friend's grave, deep in the woods, he wrote on a piece of parchment. Small events that had happened in their lives. Small, yes, but important nonetheless.

Crowley always noticed the small things, Halt thought wryly. He put down the piece of parchment and watched as a breeze blew it away.

Somewhere, hopefully, Crowley was happy.

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Halt sat at the table. It was somehow strange, to see Gilan sitting as Commandant and not Crowley.

As Halt ate, he swore he saw the ghost of a smile next to Gil. Crowley's smile. And he could hear Crowley's roaring laugh when the Corps laughed.

Crowley would be with them, facing the unknown. Halt knew that for a fact.

And when he saw that grin next to Gilan, Halt let the edge of his lips go up in a slight smile.

It was good to see his friend once again.