This is another one with Pritchard, and another one that has to do with my headcanon/AU that Pritchard is a family friend with the O'Carrick's and lived with them for a bit when Halt was a kid. Enjoy
Small fingers grasped onto Pritchard’s silver oakleaf hanging from his neck, turning it this way and that and admiring the way the candle’s light shimmered off of it.
“Don’t pull so tight kid,” Pritchard gently scolded. “I’m still wearing it, you know.”
“Sorry,” little Halt said, and tugged less on the chain. “It’s pretty.”
Pritchard nodded in agreement. “It is pretty.”
“You should let me have it.”
Pritchard laughed and guided Halt’s hands away from the oakleaf. He shifted his position so that the child sitting on his lap could see his face better, and so that his leg wouldn’t fall asleep. “Absolutely not,” he said. “That was hard earned and it’s very special and important.”
“Am I not special and important?”
“You are,” he told the kid. “But that doesn’t mean you’re having it.”
Halt scowled at him. “Rude.”
Pritchard slipped the oakleaf off of his neck and let the silver chain drop into Halt’s hands. “You can play with it some more if you’d like. Without having to tug on my neck. But you’re not keeping it.”
“What if I trade you for it?” Halt asked hopefully. He crawled off of Pritchard’s lap onto the other side of his bed and picked up a small stuffed toy he had – a bear. He crawled back over to Pritchard, kneeling next to him and holding the bear out for the man to see. “I’ll give you Douglas.”
Pritchard raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? You’d trade Douglas for a shiny piece of metal?”
Halt nodded up and down multiple times.
“You got him for your first birthday. This necklace is not worth it. And you’d probably forget you even have it or get bored and it’ll end up down the side of your bed.”
Halt shook his head multiple times now. “No, I won’t,” he insisted. “I promise. I’ll take really good care of it and never lose it.” He held Douglas the Bear out closer to Pritchard, until the bear’s face was almost kissing Pritchard’s.
“My answer is no,” Pritchard said more firmly. “You’d regret it, even if you say you won’t. And I’d regret it. You’re not having it.”
Halt’s arms dropped to his lap as he looked down moodily. “You’re so mean,” he said. “I thought you loved me. I thought I was your favourite. You’re a liar!”
Pritchard rolled his eyes at the child. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. And stop trying to guilt me. It’s not going to work.”
Halt looked at him confused. “Damnit isn’t a swear.”
“It is when you’re five years old. Kids as young as you shouldn’t be saying words like that. Save it till you’re at least ten.”
“But that’s ages away! I want to swear now!”
Pritchard let out another laugh, chuckling low as he wrapped an arm around the boy. “You’ll be able to one day. Don’t worry.” Halt slumped into Pritchard’s side, letting the man support him. Pritchard felt Halt’s arm moving beneath his own in a way that suggested he was trying to be subtle.
“Get my oakleaf out of your pocket.”
Halt groaned. “Fine,” he drawled out and pushed the necklace back into Pritchard’s palm. Pritchard nodded at him, satisfied the little thief had listened. He noticed Halt’s still scowling face as he leaned heavily against his side again, arms crossed like he had seen the adults in his life do when they were mad or disappointed at him. Pritchard couldn’t help his lips turning upwards again.
“Hey kid? I’ll tell you what,” Pritchard started and Halt looked at him curiously, his scowl fading a bit. “When I die you can have it.” Halt looked shocked at that.
“I said you can have it when I die.”
“Are you going to die?” Halt’s eyes were big and wide.
“Well, not now. At least I hope not. But I will eventually. Everyone does. Don’t worry, it won’t be for a long time. But when it does, you can have it as one last gift from me.”
“But I don’t want you to die!” Halt cried out and hugged Pritchard tightly around the waist.
Pritchard smiled softly at the boy, touched at how much he meant to Halt. He placed his hand on Halt’s back and began to rub up and down in light circles. “It’s alright. That’s not something you or anyone needs to worry about right now. I’ll be fine. I’m just saying when it does happen, you get my oakleaf. Okay?”
Halt nodded into Pritchard’s clothes. “Okay.”
Halt looked at him more fiercely. “But you have to promise to not die soon!”
Pritchard grinned at him, making sure he could look into Halt’s eyes. “I promise.”
The body was heavy and cold in Halt’s arms. He was surprised his face wasn’t soaked and drenched with how much he had been crying. He wanted to scream, but he knew if he tried all that would come out would be some sort of choked cry. He could feel Arald’s presence practically hovering over him, despite the fact that the baron was a couple metres away. It still felt too close. Too suffocating.
He had to move his body. He had to get up and deal with all of this. He had to tell Crowley. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand for the fifth time in the last five minutes, not that it did much. He turned his head ever so slightly to face Arald, speaking quietly.
“Can you help me pick him up?” he asked, his voice so small and broken. Arald nodded silently and walked over. Arald got a hold of the legs while Halt got a grip under his arms and they both lifted. Halt didn’t know where they were going to take him, but he felt like he had to at least carry him somewhere rather than just leave him lying there in the blood stained grass.
It seemed Arald was having similar thoughts. “Should we move him right now?” he asked hesitantly. “Maybe we should set him down and just think for a bit.”
“I’m not leaving him here,” Halt replied and Arald hastily clarified.
“I’m not saying leave him here. But we should have a proper idea of where we’re going before we do anything. And it might be better to think while not holding him.”
The grass was slightly damp. Pritchard’s cloak was already wet with the dew on the grass. He didn’t really want to place him back down on the ground and get his cloak more dirty. Why was he worrying about that? His cloak was already drenched with blood, what damage could a bit of rain water do? After a few seconds of thinking, he nodded.
With slow and gentle movements, they placed the corpse back on the ground. Halt moved his fingers to brush the man’s white hair out of his face although he didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to make any difference. Arald stood behind Halt as the ranger knelt next to his mentor.
“We’ll have to take him back to the camp. The medics there will know what to do next. You know, to keep him… fresh.” Arald watched the man in front of him carefully as he said it, bracing himself for the possible explosive reaction at the poorly chosen word. But Halt didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge that he had heard him in any way. He continued. “Then we can think about how to take him back to Araluen, tell Crowley, and I’ll gather some men to come and check this place out and see if we can track Morgarath from here.”
There was still no reaction from Halt. He wasn’t listening. He could feel the build up of tears again just behind his eyes but this time he had enough self control in him to keep them back. He had cried too much already today. He knew Arald had said something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. Something about taking Pritchard back, something about Crowley, some mention of the word fresh? He should probably ask him to repeat himself.
He turned to do so, but something caught his eye. Something glimmering the grass, not too far from where Pritchard’s body had originally been. Something shiny. He ignored Arald for the time being and stood up, walking past him and towards the shiny thing. He sucked in a quick breath as he saw what it was.
The same silver pendant attached to the same silver chain, camouflaged in the long grass trying to hide from him. But he had found it. He quickly picked it up, feeling the cold metal in his hands as he held tightly to himself, vowing to never let it go. He flipped it over onto its back side. There was a line carved into it. Pritchard had once told him how that had gotten there.
“When I first got it I was so proud and wanted some way to mark it as mine. I was going to carve my name, but thought that would be too difficult, so I just settled for a P. But even that was too difficult. It was hard enough getting one line in that I just gave up.”
The same line with the same story. Pritchard had once told him he could have it when he died. Actually, he had reminded him of that a few times. Young Halt had always wanted to have it, but now that he did, he wished more than anything that he didn’t. Pritchard didn’t deserve this. In what world did he deserve to be murdered like that? None of them! The oakleaf shook in his fists as he became overcome with so many emotions he couldn’t tell them apart. Before he knew it, his knees buckled and he was on the ground again, breathing heavily as strong feelings washed over him. It turned out he didn’t have as much self control as he thought because the tears were falling again.
He heard Arald’s heavy footsteps coming up behind before the sound of the man also kneeling in the grass. A second later, he felt a big hand on his shoulder, holding him tightly. Halt made no move to shake him off, so Arald stayed, not saying anything with words, but his presence being enough.
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