Crowley is only able to sit still when he HAS to on missions, anywhere safe he will not remain where he is
Gilan is pretty tall for a Ranger but compared to Araluen's average he's... exactly average
Will hugs trees when he gets the chance
Will will hug most inanimate objects when given the chance
Jenny and Alyss have a bro handshake too complicated for anyone to replicate
Halt stores all his broken coffee cups. Refuses to throw them away
When Halt and Horace traveled together in book 3 they both realized that Horace eats literally three and a half times the amount Halt eats and then they went like 'You can function on so little?' 'You can not explode after eating all that?'
Halt has the heaviest bow of the corps with a draw of about 140 pounds while only weighing only like 120 pounds. Impressive
Will has a literally infinate social battery
Is Cass says 'oops' at least five people have died
So these are all great except for the draw weight one, which has been stated to be 36-40 kg/80-90 pounds and I also had a really long explanation essay for why 140 is a stretch, but I got distracted and deleted the tab, but if you want to research modern draw weights and start doing the math to account for his slim build, (and noting the time period at which the series takes place. Flanagan’s books are absurdly well researched, I recently went to a traveling museum exhibit about medieval warfare and found that every little detail lined up; but Anyways!) The series takes place in the very early Middle Ages, an era that began in 476 AD and spanned until about 1000 AD, which means that longbows would not be as advanced as what most of the internet might say, as unless stated otherwise, the 180 maximum draw weight would be for the very, VERY latest possible time period, and stretched and exaggerated, and for men of above average build.
I had a picture of historical time periods during the Middle Ages I took at the museum but it wouldn’t upload, and there weren’t as many bows as I would have liked, though the plaques were interesting; I didn’t take any pictures
Pro: I've started planning out another Halt centric rangers apprentice fic
Con: this is almost certainly a way my brain is procrastinating on Short Swordsman
Pro: it should only be a one-shot! And one with a very interesting premise at that!
Con: I am also procrastinating on this fic by studying 15th century German fechtbuche for Short Swordsman
Pro: it will be studying a dynamic between Halt and Duncan that I haven't seen before
Con(. . ?): the more I plan, the more the dynamic falls into Halt/Duncan. I am aromantic. That would be difficult to write.
Pron: I am still studying fechtbuche (Psuedo-Peter von Donzig is my GOAT) ITS BEEN DAYS
Pron: the concept is very funny but I fear it will be heart wrenching
Pron: it's basically gonna be like-- 4k words of Duncan going, "you're the crown prince of Clonmel" and then Halt going, "nu-huh" "we literally played together as children" "nuh-uh" "You're my best friend!" "NUH-UH!"
Pron: I don't know where I was going with this post, but that's an update on what's going on with me with Ranger's Apprentice
Pron: I'm currently calling the fic Familiar Faces. If anyone has a better idea, please give me suggestions
Pro: I've started planning out another Halt centric rangers apprentice fic
Con: this is almost certainly a way my brain is procrastinating on Short Swordsman
Pro: it should only be a one-shot! And one with a very interesting premise at that!
Con: I am also procrastinating on this fic by studying 15th century German fechtbuche for Short Swordsman
Pro: it will be studying a dynamic between Halt and Duncan that I haven't seen before
Con(. . ?): the more I plan, the more the dynamic falls into Halt/Duncan. I am aromantic. That would be difficult to write.
Pron: I am still studying fechtbuche (Psuedo-Peter von Donzig is my GOAT) ITS BEEN DAYS
Pron: the concept is very funny but I fear it will be heart wrenching
Pron: it's basically gonna be like-- 4k words of Duncan going, "you're the crown prince of Clonmel" and then Halt going, "nu-huh" "we literally played together as children" "nuh-uh" "You're my best friend!" "NUH-UH!"
Pron: I don't know where I was going with this post, but that's an update on what's going on with me with Ranger's Apprentice
Pron: I'm currently calling the fic Familiar Faces. If anyone has a better idea, please give me suggestions
Do you guys ever think of how disconcerting and shocking it would have been for Halt in Chapter 12 of Kings of Clonmel to be recognized as Ferris for the first time in 20-30 ish years more or less? The reason he thinks the Outsiders are in Hibernia is because he was recognized by one of their leaders as the ‘king’. Imagine how it must have hit him later that they were talking about Ferris, and that he still bears some semblance to him.
How often do you think rangers just get sick from having to camp out in bad weather or having to lay down and wait in the cold when tracking someone. Imagine getting sick easily and being a ranger. Must suck for them. Imagine being a ranger with hay fever and having to be outside all the time. What a great life they must have
(Or the alternative, original title: Late Nights and Early Mornings)
This is mainly for @azureskies0881 because they asked for it to be posted here, but really it's for anyone
Pauline loved the way her night clothes would relax her in a way her regular day clothes could never. She loved finally being able to slip into the warm blankets and shed off the stress of the day. She loved being able to finally rest her head on her pillow and sleep until the next morning when she could look forward to doing it all again. She liked to go to bed early so she could enjoy her relaxing hours of unconsciousness for longer.
And now that time of the day, or more accurately night, had come. Everything was almost perfect. Almost. She had her relaxing clothes, comforting blankets and soft pillows, but she was missing a vital ingredient to her peak nighttime enjoyment. She was missing her night owl husband.
This wasn’t unusual by any means. It was their normal routine. Pauline would go to bed an hour or two before Halt did and by the time he finally turned in for the night, she would already be asleep. It was normal for them, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Because of their differing bedtimes, Pauline didn’t get the chance to succumb to the bliss that came with snuggling up next to her husband. She couldn’t do it when he went to bed, because she wasn’t awake for that, and even though she could do it when she woke up in the morning, it didn’t feel as special since he wasn’t awake by then. She couldn’t get the joy of him hugging her back when he was still asleep.
If she were to be granted three wishes she would wish for: more breaks in her work life, easy access to all her friends around the kingdom, and for her and her husband’s sleep schedules to be in sync. Either that or a dog. A great big fluffy one she could lie down with.
If she and Halt decided to go to bed at the same time, they would have time to themselves to cuddle. But alas.
She could hear the faint scribbling sounds of pen on parchment as Halt finished off some paper work.
“Halt,” she said, drawing his name out in a childish groan. “Come to bed. It’s late and if you stay up any later you’ll be grumpy in the morning.” She knew that wouldn’t convince him – and he would be grumpy either way – but she had to try.
“I’ll be there soon,” Halt called back, sounding half distracted. “I just need to finish this first. It’ll be quick.”
“You say that every night.”
“Well, I’m not tired either.”
“You also say that every night.” Pauline slumped further into her pillows, suppressing a groan of complaint. Why couldn’t her husband just be normal?
Realising Halt wasn’t going to bed any time soon, she rolled onto her side, facing away from the door. Letting out an annoyed huff, she gathered the blankets under her chin and closed her eyes, thinking about how oh so horribly mean her husband was for not cuddling with her.
← — →
Another day meant another morning of forcing himself to get up and out of the warm bed and force himself to move. But maybe he could find an excuse for a couple minutes longer.
Halt stretched his arm out underneath the covers in search of his excuse and found nothing but an empty cold space beside him. Of course, he thought, annoyed. Every. Single. Damn. Morning. That woman was bloody inhumane with how early she would get up. It wasn’t fair! Her leaving him all alone in bed every morning to suffer by himself. How cruel she could be sometimes.
Ignoring every fibre of his body that yearned for comfort, he sat up, the usual strands of black and grey hair falling in front of his eyes. He didn’t need a mirror to tell him his hair was a mess. No matter. Running his fingers through it should tidy it up a bit. Well, at least as tidy as Halt’s hair was capable of being. Which wasn’t very much.
He could hear Pauline walking around in the kitchen area of their apartment, a few dishes clanging together as she most likely cleaned up her breakfast. Halt almost found it to be mocking. All he wanted was a few moments each morning to lay with his wife and enjoy her silent company. Was that too much to ask for? Just a few moments to give him the energy and motivational boost he needed to get through the day. But no! She just had to be an early bird in an almost supernatural way!
He supposed the problem could be solved if she went to bed later like him. Then they could cuddle at night. It didn’t occur to him that the obvious solution was for him to go to bed earlier. They could enjoy the night together and an early bed time for him would mean an earlier rise time or possibly more sleep. Or both. But even if he did consider that he would still insist he needed the night to finish off work. His grumpy state, the ever present morning and his ever absent wife meant he was in no mood to think logically. That could happen later when he was being less dramatic.
The pause of the sounds in the kitchen told him that Pauline had finished doing what she had been doing and a couple seconds later she appeared in the bedroom doorway.
“Oh, good. You're up,” she said. “Do you have anything planned for today? Any work you need to do?”
Halt leaned back against the headboard of their bed tiredly and rubbed his eyes before replying. “I don't think so. Finished it last night.”
“Yes. I know you did.” Pauline pursed her lips in the way she did when she was annoyed at someone or something. And in this case he knew who it was directed towards.
“Well it was better I get it done last night,” he defended himself. “Now I can basically have the day off. Unless someone needs me for something. Maybe someone's grandma's will get stuck in a tree and I'll have to go help.”
Pauline continued to give him that look. It had been clear for a while she didn't approve of his sleep schedule. “I don't have much to do either,” she eventually said. “I was thinking if you get up we could do some cleaning together. This place is getting a bit dusty.”
“Alright,” Halt agreed with a sigh. But an idea invaded his mind a second later. “If we both don't have anything to do then why don't you come back to bed for a bit?” He looked at her with the most pleading eyes he was capable of. “It's warm.”
“Im already up and doing things.” Pauline started but was cut off by Halt’s groan.
“I don't care. It's not fair that we have to get up so early every damn morning! For once can’t you just come here?”
“Well, I hate to say it,” she lied. She loved to say it. “But we wouldn't have this issue if you went to bed earlier.”
Halt glared at her moodily but Pauline, being the one and only person who was immune to his fierce looks, no matter how deadly, simply raised an eyebrow. Silently admitting defeat, Halt dropped the glare. He let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back down into the pillows and blankets.
Pauline watched from the doorway, the grin she had been struggling to contain finally slipping out.
“Fine,” she relented and Halt looked up from the blanket nest he had been burying himself under. “Scooch over.”
Halt flipped the blankets to let his wife into bed. He had a cheeky grin that he directed towards her as she got comfortable.
“Oh, stop acting like you won,” she told him upon seeing it. “You still need to go to bed earlier and I will stand by that.”
“But I did win,” Halt teased. “You're here aren't you?” He settled down next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and melting into her body. Finally, he was content enough to let his eyes close again.
“We still have things to do, you know,” Pauline said. “Don't go back to sleep now.”
“Mmm,” Halt mumbled into her torso sleepily. “I won't.”
Pauline rolled her eyes at her husband. “You will. But whatever.” It wouldn't be so bad, she supposed, sleeping in for once. So with that thought in mind, she too let herself slip into the warm embrace of her beloved.
Guys my teacher marked the little RA fic I wrote for school and he said he could read it all day. He also said Steinbeck-ien or something as well so whatever that means
There’s so many lol. I just picked a few really obscure names so good luck. If you get any of these, you scare me. 🤣
Starting off easy: Paul.
Hint: He appears in books one and two.
A: He is the Senior Cadet who corrects Horace in the first book in chapter 11, when the extra stroke sequence scene is, and he dies in Book 2, during the war with Morgarath. Horace has this one paragraph traumatizing moment thinking about how he became his friend for a bit and now he’s dead.
Ambrose
Hint: 11.2
That was a trick question. He appears multiple times in book eleven, but as completely different people with random jobs and towns. I think John just really liked the name Ambrose.
Sir Digby
Hint: Book 2
A: He gets tossed into the moat. I believe he is the first mention of this habit of Halt’s.
(Set during Oakleaf Bearers, after they all reunited.)
I cannot tell him.
Halt added two more twigs in the campfire, his hands shaking. Halt’s hands never shook, even when anxiety occupied his mind. He didn’t get anxious much anyway, but it would be a fatal habit to have as an archer.
But now, they did.
He ended up tossing the rest of the wood in haste. The flames flickered, then died out completely.
Great. He only had one job, and he failed.
Halt clamped his hands on the log he was sitting on, the rough bark digging into his palms. It felt like a punishment.
No one could see him anyway. No one knew.
Evanlyn was resting early in the tent, and Will and Horace had gone hunting.
There was a bright smile on Will’s face when he left moments ago, claiming that he would catch a deer to celebrate their reunion. Horace had tagged along and jokingly insisted on bringing Kicker despite Will’s protest that he would scare off the animals.
“You may have a slight chance of staying quiet, but Kicker? No.”
Halt could still hear Horace’s groaning and Will’s laughter after they were out of his sight.
Laughter.
Halt hated to see Will cry. He had only realised the fact today. Will had made him cry. That was another fact.
Normally, Halt liked facts — knowing whether or not it would rain today, not to feed Albelard too many apples, and that his own smile, even the tiniest one, would be the biggest validation for Will. But he was facing different kinds of facts today — how many days until he could step on the land of Araluan again, how everyone would react if they knew Halt was banished, and how much more his heart could bear witnessing his own apprentice fussing over him like a mother hen. There was nothing to be worried about. It had been necessary, a procedure. Just a procedure to get…someone important back. It was stupid.
He was so stupid.
Pain.
Halt didn’t feel the sting until his hand automatically jerked away from the log he was holding onto so desperately. It had bitten into his skin, and it was bleeding. He cursed underneath his breath and wrapped his hand around the front of his cloak. He couldn’t bother to treat the wound properly now. There were more important things to dwell upon, like dealing with the Temujai and letting everyone stay happy. His own problems would have to wait. Till when, he didn’t know, didn’t want to know.
He set up the fire once more, patiently this time. He forced himself to slow down. The twigs dragged over the cuts in his palm and left barely visible red tints on the wood before being thrown into the fire, starting to burn.
There. That was gone.
He didn’t have to wait too long for the two boys to return and bring dinner. Soon, everyone was around the campfire for the first time in months, together.
Will. Horace. Evanlyn. Himself.
He listened to everyone talk and laugh. Then the stories started to flow out. He listened, answered questions, frowned, and nodded.
Halt waited for someone to ask, or for Horace to forget his promise to not mention his situation.
“Oh, yes. Halt was banished. That’s why we’re here. Because he offended the King to look for you.”
He was prepared to lower his head, to scold Horace for being dramatic, or to stand up abruptly and declare that he needed to rest because of how loud all of them were.
But Horace didn’t mention it, so Halt kept quiet. No one would notice anyway. No one ever noticed, when he was quiet.
“What’s on your mind?”
Halt’s eyes shot up to meet Will’s concerned ones, startled. Lost in thought. He really was getting old, wasn’t he?
The campfire had been put out, and Evanlyn was cleaning up. Halt was the only one sitting there. He blinked, realising that his far-too-curious-for-his-own-good apprentice was still waiting for an answer.
“My mind?” Halt arched an eyebrow, feigning confusion.
Will didn’t speak. He just kept standing there. His arms weren’t crossed, nor did he look demanding, he was smiling even, but a hint of annoyance still managed to creep its way into Halt’s mind. He tried to shove it down, deeper.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he muttered.
“Tell me anyway.”
Why does he have to be so stubborn? The irritation resurfaced, and this time, he couldn’t push it away.
“You see, when I say it’s nothing to worry about, I mean I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice was stiff, and he knew that. A tiny leaf was dangling from a tree branch at the right corner of his eye. Halt fixated his gaze on it and pursed his lips. One, two, three, four…… He waited for the leaf to inevitably fall and yank itself off the tree, but it just kept clinging on. He had an irrational urge to stride up to the tree and just tug the leaf off himself.
“I don’t feel so—” he almost said belonged, but held himself back, “…authoritative these days,” he muttered, to no one in particular, staring at the dangling leaf, still.
It was after seconds did Halt realise that Will hadn’t heard him. He finally locked eyes with him and gave in. “It’s the Temujai.”
There was no need to disappoint anyone again, he thought, at least not before his return.
I kinda write some sick Halt headcanons because it's fun to make him suffer and I like sick fics, but I also can't think of any and can't be bothered to so do y'all have any idea
My teacher wasn't hear to give us suggestion topics for our writing exercise today so I just wrote a RA fanfic but changed Halts name to something I can't remember I just know it started with Ha and it was irish
Anyway I took a photo of what I wrote to write up and I'm gonna finish it
It's about Halt having a mental breakdown in front of Will btw
I want Halt to have a mental breakdown over Ferris and his father.
Like randomly one day he just starts thinking in actual depth about everything and realizing how fucked up it all was. How his father never hid the fact that he was the least favourite and was very rarely nice to him when they were alone. And how people would always tell Halt and Ferris that as twins, they would always be each others best friends. And that was true for years until Ferris did all that out of nowhere and gave Halt probably bad trust issues for everyone except Crowley.
I want him to just feel like doing nothing but cry over all these thoughts and I want the only person to be around to be Will
I want Halt to have a mental breakdown over Ferris and his father.
Like randomly one day he just starts thinking in actual depth about everything and realizing how fucked up it all was. How his father never hid the fact that he was the least favourite and was very rarely nice to him when they were alone. And how people would always tell Halt and Ferris that as twins, they would always be each others best friends. And that was true for years until Ferris did all that out of nowhere and gave Halt probably bad trust issues for everyone except Crowley.
I want him to just feel like doing nothing but cry over all these thoughts and I want the only person to be around to be Will
There’s so many lol. I just picked a few really obscure names so good luck. If you get any of these, you scare me. 🤣
Starting off easy: Paul.
Hint: He appears in books one and two.
A: He is the Senior Cadet who corrects Horace in the first book in chapter 11, when the extra stroke sequence scene is, and he dies in Book 2, during the war with Morgarath. Horace has this one paragraph traumatizing moment thinking about how he became his friend for a bit and now he’s dead.
Ambrose
Hint: 11.2
That was a trick question. He appears multiple times in book eleven, but as completely different people with random jobs and towns. I think John just really liked the name Ambrose.
Sir Digby
Hint: Book 2
A: He gets tossed into the moat. I believe he is the first mention of this habit of Halt’s.
