Disclaimer: John Flanagan create the world of Ranger's Apprentice. This chapter covers half of his story The Hibernian, which can be found in Book 11. Any dialogue has been taken from the book.

After a few days ride, Halt finally reached the outskirts of Gorlan fief. He chose to stop at midday at a small inn near the border.

He'd ordered his meal and was sitting quietly in a corner, sipping a cup of well-sweetened coffee, when the gang of soldiers entered. They were pretty noisy and pushed their weight around, intimidating the tavern keeper and his serving girl, though they didn't see Halt in the shadows. Soon they became drunk, but as they weren't being violent he didn't intervene. The real trouble started when the Ranger came in.

Halt's eyes flicked to the door as it opened. He saw the Ranger's eyes take in his surroundings and felt a jolt of excitement. Here was his first encounter, not counting Pritchard, with an Araluen Ranger. The man was surprisingly young – probably only about twenty-three. He had a mop of sand-red hair, which was slightly tousled after riding.

The Hibernian watched the scene play out, realising it would be dangerous to take too active a role. He stayed almost motionless as the soldiers bullied the Ranger into accepting an ale but when they began mocking the serving girl, Glyniss, he unobtrusively nocked an arrow and rose, softly stepping a few paces from the table he'd been sitting at. He could see that the red-haired Ranger was getting angry – and that wasn't a good thing.

"Why, you pipsqueak! I'll break you in half!" The lead soldier swung a wild punch.

Halt sighed. The Ranger had freed the girl but was now set upon by the gang. He realised he'd have to do something soon. The soldiers had tied the man's hands and one was holding a dagger to his face.

"Now what shall we do with you, King's Ranger?" he said. "I think we might just cut your nose off. That'll teach you not to stick it in our business."

Halt curled his fingers around the bowstring, waiting for the right moment. He couldn't resist a little drama.

"What do you think, boys?" the soldier was saying.

"I think you should turn him loose."

Halt felt little but growing contempt for the man in front of him. He was supposed to be a soldier – instead he was aggressive, cruel and over-fond of drink. No-one in my father's army would be allowed to behave like that, especially not an officer, Halt thought. He wasn't certain that that the man was an officer but it was probable judging by his attitude with his fellows. Affairs moved swiftly on, leaving the soldiers out of action for a while and Halt free to make the acquaintance of the ginger Ranger. He felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of meeting a man who was part of the legendary corps he had dreamt of joining, but hid it behind a blank façade.

Even so, it was difficult to remember not to reveal his true identity – the Ranger seemed completely trustworthy. He kicked himself when he almost revealed his surname. Most Araluens might not have heard of the Hibernian prince but as an official, the Ranger probably would.

The Ranger – whose name was Crowley – was easy to get on with. The danger they had shared a few minutes ago had gone a long way to making them friends. Halt hoped for a chance to travel with him, but didn't want to seem too keen. He was glad when Crowley gave him an opening, making it sound as though visiting Morgarath with him wasn't an unprecedented decision.

The two men set out after Crowley had eaten. Their captives rode ahead, tethered to a lead rope, occasionally whining. Halt and Crowley both enjoyed the opportunity to dominate them.

Halt revelled in teasing his new companion. He'd spent little time with friends of his own age – Ferris hardly counted – and he was amazed at how easy it was to joking with Crowley. He knew he'd have to part ways with Crowley eventually, as the Ranger was returning to Hogarth fief, which was too remote for Halt's purposes, and found himself dreading it. Perhaps it was for the best, though. He was becoming careless, having to cover a slip where he almost revealed his home town. He changed mid-word to Droghela, but worried about his limited knowledge of the place.

On the following day, Castle Gorlan came into view.

A.N. Happy Easter! Sorry for taking ages. I know this chapter's shorter but I decided to split the events of The Hibernian and I wanted to get another chapter up. Please review!