Ok so this an AU, and in this AU Norman, the hermit Halt met up in the Mountains of Rain and Night, is not there and Halt's silly little adventure up there goes a bit different. That's all I'm going to say about it.
The climb had been long, treacherous and exhausting, but Halt finally made it to the top of the blasted Mountains of Rain and Night. Morgarath was up here somewhere and if Halt could just get a clear shot of him…
No. He couldn't. That's not why he was here as hard as it was for him to admit it. He was here to see if Morgarath had been recruiting and training beasts known as Wargals and nothing else – and so far he had discovered quite a bit about the strange creatures. As much as he wanted to stick an arrow into the traitorous baron’s dead heart, he couldn't. Morgarath’s justice would have to come some other day, no matter how long that would be.
He could spy some Wargals wobbling around the terrain carrying armour and weapons. Some of them were clumsy with their movements as if they hadn't yet gotten used to the idea of being burdened with the heavy things in such a way. Halt decided that for now, they weren't too much of a threat. If they spotted him he could easily shoot them between the cracks in their armour. If they got up close, however, that's where the real trouble would lie. Those massive paws or hands or whatever you would call them would crush his bones and spill his blood everywhere in an instant.
Grunts and beastly groans seemed to be the only sounds they were capable of. Halt supposed it would really start to grate on the nerves after a good while and he wondered how Morgarath was putting up with it so far. He hoped it was a sort of torture for him.
He snuck around in a wide path, far away from the mindless beasts. There were some large ragged rocks up ahead and he made his way towards them, planning to assess his situation while sheltered there.
Two things he knew for sure about this place: there were too many Wargals roaming around, and too much open space. He would have to be very careful in order to not get caught. There would be stretches of land up here where if the creatures even looked his way, he could be caught. He couldn’t decide what was more dangerous – the steep uphill climb up the ragged cliffs, or the ever roaming Wargals.
He was trying to formulate a plan of action in his mind, a way to get around everything with as little risk as possible. He quietly and slowly peeked around the rock he was up against, seeing how close they were to him. Not too close, a good distance between him. He was just about to slowly move back into the safety of the rock when something caught his attention. Or more accurately, someone.
There was a man surrounded by three Wargals. He was a fair bit of distance away so it was difficult for Halt to make out any features, but he could see his hair and beard were white with age, and was clothed with a plain grey cloak. He didn’t look like he was in trouble with the Wargals. He was standing casually as were the furry beasts, and he looked like he was talking to him. He must be one of Morgarath’s human officers. But something about the man seemed all too familiar. It gnawed at Halt’s mind, a name and face buzzing around at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp and apply to the man.
The Wargals dispersed from the man, attending to their other duties. The man stood there for a little bit longer, looking around him as if he were lost and didn’t know what to do next. Then he turned in Halt’s direction and began to walk towards him. Halt knew he couldn’t duck back now. If he could see the man, the man would most likely be able to see any movement he would make. He would have to trust the cloak as the mantra went, and hope he was concealed well enough from his sight.
The man wasn’t stopping his approach, coming closer and closer, but the face was also becoming more and more clear. The familiar feeling and distant name and face grew with each step he took, until finally, he grabbed them and identified the man.
No, he thought numbly. That’s impossible.
The man stopped, casually taking stock of his surroundings. Almost too casually. His gaze drifted around the mountains until finally it lowered down to where Halt hid. If it was any other person, they wouldn’t have been capable of spotting him. But this was someone who was experienced in the ranger’s ways of hiding, specifically this ranger. He continued to approach.
Halt leaned back, not bothering to hide anymore. He had been seen and there was nothing he could do about it. He stared at the old man in denial, astonishment and complete and utter confusion. How the hell is he here?
The man kneeled down in front of Halt and gave him a warm smile. It was a smile Halt had seen many times before, and one he never thought he’d ever see again. There was one difference that separated it from the others however, and that was the tears that were flooding the man’s eyes.
“You’re here,” he choked, his voice his own. “Oh my god, I never thought I’d see you again.” He held Halts shoulders tightly, gripping him like if he didn’t get a good hold his kid would slip away from him again.
“What?” Halt started, words escaping him. “Why are you- How are you-?”
The man glanced behind him and pushed Halt back into the safe shadows of the rocks before answering his question. “I know, it’s weird. But it’s okay. It’s me, Halt. I promise you it’s me.”
“But… you died. I saw it!” His heart started racing at a speed not even Abelard could reach. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, WHAT THE HELL!
“What? What do you mean ‘it wasn’t you’? I saw you! You were dead! You can’t come back from that! Who are you?” Panic began to rise in his chest. This man before him was so similar to the man he thought he had lost, but he knew that wasn’t possible.
“I’m me. I’m Pritchard. I promise I can explain everything to you.”
“No, you can’t!” Halt whispered fiercely. He knew he had to keep his voice down in order to not get caught, but god, he really wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. “You’re dead! I know what I saw! I don’t know who you are but I swear if you don’t start talking…” his let his voice trail off but his hand found the hilt of his saxe knife, fingers curling tightly around it.
Pritchard, if that really was his name, noticed this and held up his hands in surrender, talking in a low soothing tone. “Alright, alright. You don’t need to pull that out. Just, let me explain everything. I know it may seem crazy but I promise it’s the truth.” Halt didn’t say anything, only continued to glare at him, his grip not loosening. Pritchard lifted his shirt sleeve up and turned his wrist around, showing the agitated ranger the bottom side of it. There was a birthmark stretched across it. Halt looked at it, his eyes widening ever so slightly in recognition. Pritchard then tapped his left cheek, bringing attention to a thin scar that was faintly visible behind his beard. It matched one of Halt’s own scars.
“Remember this?” he said. “How many people do you think are out there that look exactly like me and have my birthmark and scars? It’s me, Halt.”
Halt shook his head in disbelief. “But, I saw you.” His voice had lost the sharp, defensive edge it previously had, instead sounding small and broken.
“I know you did,” Pritchard tightened his grip on his kid. “At least, I know you thought you did. But that wasn’t me. Can you just let me explain?”
Halt went numb. He stared at the man who had come to mean so much to him, but was believed to be dead. Silently, he gave a small nod.
“I’m sure you could guess what mostly happened,” Pritchard started. “I found the tunnel entrance at Castle Gorlan and was checking it out. But one of Morgarath’s parties had stayed behind to guard it for the time being and they ambushed me. They were about to kill me. But then their commander stopped them and said something like that Morgarath could ‘use me.’ They captured me. Right before they were about to leave they saw someone in their group that looked shockingly similar to me. I know it’s hard to believe, but you should have seen him. We were almost identical. It was amazing, really. But they decided it would be best if they had everyone believe I was dead, that way there was no risk of anyone coming after them to find me. So they made us swap clothes and they killed him in my place.”
Halt stared at the ground. He was trying to comprehend everything he just heard, but the images of the body were flashing through his mind. He had been so sure it was Pritchard. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised the memory wasn’t entirely accurate. He started to pinpoint the differences between the two men, differences he had not noticed at the time, being blinded by grief and rage as he was. When he looked at the body later with slightly calmer eyes, he had just put the strange appearance up to the fact it was a dead body. No one completely looks like themselves when they’re dead after all. But now that he had the story, everything about the body that made it someone else’s was glaringly obvious.
“It wasn’t you,” Halt said, a quiet fury beginning to surge up inside of him. “We had a funeral for you. We buried that body. And the whole time it wasn’t you?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Halt,” Pritchard said while rubbing his apprentice’s shoulder in a relaxing manner he had done many times before. “Given the circumstances it makes sense. I had disappeared, and a little shortly after a body that looks like me and is wearing my clothes shows up? If anything it would be less logical to assume it wasn’t me.”
“Have you been up here the whole time?”
Pritchard nodded. “I was kept under much tighter surveillance for a while, but I guess Morgarath believes I won’t be able to escape past the Wargals. Which is probably true. I can walk around now but I can’t go out of their sight. In fact, if they found out I was here I would probably get punished.”
They sat in heavy silence. Pritchard watched as Halt tried to come to terms with everything he had been told, while at the same time seething at what the Baron of the Mountains had done. Pritchard never let go of him throughout. Eventually, he broke the silence with a question.
Pritchard’s heart broke at the words. His face dropped into one of pure sympathy as he ached for the young man before him. “Oh, Halt. I am so sorry. I really wished it would have been someone else. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”
“It’s alright,” Halt lied. He was finding it difficult to look Pritchard in the eyes. He was afraid that if he did, he would see that they weren’t truly he is. But now, he lifted his gaze to him and saw his fears were unfounded. They were truly his, and Halt knew he had been telling the truth. Tears fell from his eyes before he even realised what was happening.
Pritchard pulled him close and wrapped his arms around his shaking son. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “We’re here now. Everything will be okay now.”
Halt cried into his shoulder, holding Pritchard close to him, terrified that if he opened his eyes and let go Pritchard would fade away and he’d discover it had all been in his head. But when he wiped the tears away and looked into his mentor’s kind face, he saw he was really truly here with him.
“I’m going to get you down from here,” Halt told him with a determined look in his eye. “We can climb back down and get home. You can see Crowley again.”
“Crowley,” Pritchard wistfully. “God, I miss that crazy kid.”
“So,” Pritchard clapped his hands together then regretted it as the sound was louder than he wished. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“The same way I came up,” Halt answered confidently. Pritchard raised an eyebrow at him.
“And how exactly did you manage that?”
“I climbed,’ he replied, but then reconsidered. ‘Although with the two of us it might be more difficult. We may have to go down the path.”
Pritchard shook his head. “We’d never manage that. Morgarath’s stationed Wargals all around them to keep people from coming up there, but I also think to keep me from getting out. We wouldn’t be able to sneak out that way.”
“We don’t have to sneak. We just make a break for it. The Wargals are huge and strong but they’re not the most graceful creatures, are they?”
Pritchard nodded this time, acknowledging Halt’s point. “That’s certainly true,” he admitted.
“They’re fast, but we can move faster. We just need to run past them and then we can get out. And I’ve got Abelard waiting down the bottom. Once we reach him we’ll definitely be good.”
Pritchard pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Halt. It’s very risky. It could be a suicide mission. How did you climb up?”
“With a harness,” Halt answered him. “And some pegs. But I only have one harness. Like I said, it would be much harder with two of us. And probably a lot more dangerous than just going down the path.” He looked Pritchard seriously in the eye. “This is probably our only way. And I’d rather risk death than go back down without you.”
“I would not rather you do that,” Pritchard said, then sighed. “But fine. You have a point.”
Halt’s eyes lit up. Pritchard was coming home. His hands lifted to his neck, finding the warmed up chain of metal that hung from it and pulled it over his head. It was his silver oakleaf, or more accurately, Pritchard’s silver oakleaf. Halt had already been granted his own before they had discovered “Pritchard’s” body, but after finding his mentor’s one laying in the grass a short distance away, he had carried it and worn it ever since. He handed it back to the ranger.
“I guess you should take this back now.”
Pritchard held it in his hands, feeling the familiar weight and pattern of the oakleafs grooves and curves. It had been such a big part of his life for so long that being stripped from it had felt like a terrible burden. His eyes held a longing look, his entire career in his hands. He handed it back.
“You keep it,” he said. He opened Halt’s hand and pressed it into his palm, curling his fingers back over it again. “I’ll be grabbing my gold one after all this is over anyway.” He looked at his former apprentice, an immense pride filling his heart.
Halt put the oakleaf back around his neck. He didn’t say anything, afraid that if he did his voice would catch with emotion and he would find himself crying again. Pritchard spoke for him, moving the conversation along.
Woo hoo let's give Halt another chance of having a father yayyy.
I spent an unbelievale amount of time flipping through the second TEY book to remind myself of the reason Halt went up to the mountains and it turns out my original thought was right, and then remind myself if Wargals are fast or not for one line of dialouge.
This is just my silly little AU because Pritchard needs to live because I love him and him and Crowley and Halt need to be a family forever.
