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// Stay a while and listen... 
// Story: Halvard and the Kindly Queen 
// by Venerable Ro 
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Evergreen was a hold of moderate size, situated in the southwestern reaches of Equestria where it watched a wide swath of deep forests and craggy hills, known for harboring all manner of unnatural occurrences. Creatures warped by aberrant magic, spirits of rock and bough awoken by passing chance, powerful materials and ingredients found nowhere else, all these things and more the wardens of Evergreen guarded, that no strange harm might pass them by into Equestria itself.

While small, the hold was also prosperous, after a fashion. Those things which were not outright dangerous were often quite valuable, pelts for the tanners, blossoms for the brewers, metals for the smiths, woods for the carpenters. It was a place where fortune could be found, if one was keen, and kept, if one was wary.

Now, humans have a certain reputation for being dour, at least by ebullient pony standards. But the hunters of Evergreen Hold came by that descriptor honestly. They were downright suspicious outside of their clifftop hold, always looking back and forth and up and down to check if they were being stalked by some forest-born creature.

Thus was it a great surprise when these supremely wary frontiersmen found that something had been creeping into the hold without their knowing!

No one had been harmed, or replaced, they'd been exceedingly careful to verify that, but people were reported having been seen in more than one place at once, by multiple reliable witnesses. Things were moved about, a book left in one place replaced (wrongly) on the shelf, a cookpot prepared for stew filled with tea, harvested potatoes reburied in the ground. Little nuisances such as might be caused by an over-helpful child.

So of course a great storm of paranoia gripped the hold, everyone going about with at least two companions, nighttime patrols roaming the streets, children shepherded carefully in their homes. No weaknesses, no opportunities allowed for tragedy or disaster to slip in.

And, the stirrings ceased. Seemingly between one breath and another, the hold was left unmolested, without so much as a barley leaf disturbed.

And, after another fortnight's careful watch, the Hold slowly relaxed back to its usual business. The intruder, whatever it might have been, was gone. Then, one day, something happened again. Bouquets of wildflowers appeared on every doorstep overnight, haphazardly collected and almost sheepishly presented.

Evidently, whatever was out there was not hostile, it had had ample opportunity before and now to cause harm. If it had wished the hold ill, there was very little they could do to prevent it. So with something of a collective grunt and shrug, the inhabitants chose to warily get on with life.

From then on Evergreen Hold played resigned hosts to unseen visitors, who the hunters eventually started to call "the kindly folk" after a pattern of well-intentioned mischief became evident. The kindly folk seemed to wish to be helpful, but they rarely seemed to entirely understand what "helpful" sould be. A woman might come home from market to find the house well-swept, but the furniture arranged according to some strange idea of "convenience" and all of the dust in the house collected tidily in a washtub.

They were also incurable matchmakers, constantly forging notes and leaving flowers in an effort to bring seemingly random folk together, once even impersonating both parties at different times so as to invite the both of them to a prepared picnic.

The wary hunters were aflame with curiosity, they knew every trick of camouflage the forest had ever produced, and they had their ways of detecting pony magic on the off chance that this was all the work of a surpassingly strange unicorn. But there was nothing, naught but an occasional flicker of movement in the corner of an eye, jesting teases more than anything else.

So the competition was on, the first man to sight one of the kindly folk and discover their methods would win considerable bragging rights in the local alehouse, not to mention the possibility of a very useful trick, if it should happen to be something that could be learned.

It was this excited bustle and confusion that greeted Halvard Path Seeker as he returned from speaking with the Moot.

He'd been gone for too long, more than a day spent beyond his beloved hills being too long by his estimation. Finding the generally dour hold bustling like an earth pony market garden almost had him wondering if he'd somehow walked into the wrong town.

Halvard was a well-known man amongst the holders of Evergreen, tall, handsome in a rough-carven way, and possessed of endless alehouse stories. As the master of the rangers in the region it had been his duty to give the report to the Moot at Raven's Roost, a month's journey in and of itself. It had been a productive meeting, and Raven's Roost was always a marvel to see, but it wasn't home. Now Halvard was finally home again, and it seemed home had a mystery for him to savor.

Hearing much from his kinfolk of these elusive guests, and arising the next day to find his doorstep buried in cheerful sunflowers, Halvard was taken with the mystery of it all. After the tedium of the Moot and the dust of the road, an adventure into his beloved woods seemed just the thing to refresh his spirits. So off he ventured in search of a thing that no man so far had been able to find.

High in the hills and deep in the forest, Halvard's steps at last brought him to a secluded forest glen. Taking a moment to rest from his wanderings, he'd just settled down against a tree when a voice spoke from just the other side. Low and measured, with a rich undercurrent of sly amusement.

"So you are one of the creatures my children have told me so much about. What brings you so deep into these hills? Not chasing after us I hope, it would be a shame to waste your time, you'll never catch, nor even see us."

With cautious courtesy, Halvard replied that he pursued nothing, save truth, for he'd recently returned home from a long journey and found his kinsmen all agog with stories of invisible pranksters.

This brought a proud laugh, such that which a master saves for his credulous student. "Invisible? No, not invisible, we hide in plain sight, they simply aren't looking hard enough."

This brought a sharper retort, for a man will always rise swifter to the defense of his friends than himself. There were many things in the forest and under the hills full of cunning and subtlety, but the men of Evergreen had learned all their tricks in time. What made this unseen speaker any different?

"Why, we are different because I am different. You say you've learned a hundred tricks? Then I've imagined a thousand. None but my children have ever glimpsed me, and none but my children ever shall."

"That's fine for you," allowed Halvard, "but it sounds terribly dreary to me. A life of hiding and spying? What joy or pride is there in such a life?"

"Spying he says! Here's a self-proclaimed hunter of beasts criticizing another for what he does every day! Or do you not spy on everything under branch and bole? As to hiding, I speak to you readily enough, you've only yourself to blame if your skills aren't up to the challenge."

And so it was and so it went, a dashing bout of repartee, until the sun drew low and Halvard stood to return home. Giving his name as was only polite, he was not particularly surprised when the mysterious voice declined to return the favor.

"My name is my own, it belongs to my children. You are certainly no child of mine, you've no claim on my name."

"Well I must call you something, and proper respect demands a proper means of address. I will call you simply ‘lady’ then, as every devoted mother and wise leader is."

A laugh was all the response he got, and as he rounded the tree there was nothing at all to find, not even so much as a blade of grass out of place. So Halvard journeyed back to his home and kin, there to tell a story of his latest venture, and to wonder to himself at this mysterious lady of the Kindly folk.

From then on Halvard found he had acquired a shadow. Whenever he went out into the forest on this or that bit of business it wouldn't be long at all before the elusive lady would make herself known. This usually took the form of a polite call out of the middle nowhere, a voice that always seemed to come from directly behind him. But sometimes there were pranks to be had, such as a shout of joyous welcome singing out, just as he was carefully stepping over an icy stream.

"Good morrow to thee, oh noble hunter! How fares the spying?"

"Wha-!"

*Splash*

"I see you have successfully ambushed the stream, truly the water stood no chance against your cunning."

In the beginning Halvard wondered if he'd found a nuisciense where he sought a mystery, but time revealed a cunning and well-traveled mind, one with tales and deeds to match his own. Whoever and whatever the Lady was, she'd lived a long life and had the stories to prove it, so as he went about the business of a ranger there was no shortage of conversation.

They rambled back and forth through the forests and over the hills, Halvard ever watchful for the slightest glimpse of his elusive companion, the Lady always speaking from some unseen angle. As the days went on they spoke of everything under the sun, for no matter the subject one or the other had either a familiarity or an opinion. They recounted days gone by, one-upped each other with feats of daring or cleverness, reminisced fondly of old companions now absent, and bragged of exotic locales visited.

Halvard taught the Lady chess, at first in a somewhat awkward fashion involving much turning about with eyes closed, and after losing to him with a fool's mate the lady vanished outright for a week. With his chessboard no less. Then, the board returned, sitting out by itself, a clear invitation. After a moment's consideration Halvard made a move and continued on his way. From then on the chessboard would pop up in the strangest places, always with a new move (by the black player of course) awaiting his response.

In turn the Lady taught him riddles as the Kindly Folk told them, spiraling stories of intrigue hinging on a single seemingly innocuous detail. Often the obvious answer was very much the wrong one, sometimes the answer was in the first sentence, sometimes the last, sometimes there was no answer at all as the "riddle" turned out to be an overly complicated joke in the end.

The years went by with riddles, conversation, careful wariness deepening to easy familiarity. In truth Halvard cared little about actually solving the "mystery" of the Lady's identity by this point, it had become something of a joke between them long ago. An old and threadbare argument to fall back on when other topics were temporarily exhausted. Though neither of them brought it up, both considered the other a very trustworthy friend.

Then one morning the sun failed to rise, and word came that disaster had struck far-off Everfree.

Every man that the hold had to spare made ready to depart with all possible haste. Halvard led his rangers north with a quiet promise from the Lady that the hold would be protected in his absence.

Of the running battle through the ravaged streets of Everfree City, the less said the better; though no strangers to sudden violence and death, no man who set foot in that cursed place came out the same. Halvard returned, in time, leading some of his kin in somber victory, and leaving more behind. Though he still told great tales of his deeds, and sang as boldly as ever, there was a quiet melancholy to him now that had not been there before.

Now when Halvard spoke with his friend on their journeys through the wood they would just as often speak of sacrifice and aching duty, of loss and sometimes regret. The Lady slipped closer those days it seemed, almost sounding close enough to touch sometimes, as if he could simply turn and see her.

One evening, as Halvard sat alone in his home brooding before the fire, a familiar voice broke the silence. The Lady, it seemed, had decided to pay him a visit; a new level of daring, or perhaps trust, as he'd never known her to leave the deep forest before. She gleefully informed him that she did not intend to stay long, the trip was mainly to count coup as it were, to prove that she could get all the way into town and conceal herself within his very home undetected.

Then the storm rolled in.

A once-in-seven-years mage storm it was, battering the whole of the forested hills beyond the heavy stone walls of the hold. Only fools and madmen would go out in such, and the Lady, to Halvard's wry amusement, found herself quite stuck. Amusement or no, they were still friends, and while Halvard promised to hold on to this little error for as long as humanly possible, he offered her his own room for the night. The offer was graciously accepted, with the caveat that he must promise not to look in on her while she slumbered, for while she trusted him a promise would make for a firm reminder.

He readily agreed, and after a bit more conversation and a final jab or two at certain clever souls failing to look at the sky before going visiting, they both retired for the night. Halvard settled back in his armchair, and across the house the door to his room thunked shut. The storm raged on.

A while later Halvard was shaken from his doze by a loud crashing noise, the storm it seemed had hurled debris into his roof, specifically over the room where his guest was sleeping. While he had promised, concern for his guest's safety overrode his earlier commitment, and he approached the door. A sharp rapping knock was drowned out by the howl of the storm outside, the Lady it seemed, could sleep through anything.

So, holding a candle aloft, Halvard opened the door to check in on his slumbering guest.

Regrettably, Halvard had fought through the crisis of Long Night, had fought to get the populace out of Everfree City, and then fought to eradicate the monstrosities Nightmare left in her wake. There were things in the ruins of that city now, some of the worst in a way being swarms of huge demonic centipedes.

Thus, Halvard reacted, poorly, to the unexpected sight of black chitin glinting in his firelight.

Clacking, scuttling, screams, "No! Asger!" Blood, so much blood...

And Chrysalis, master empath that she is, was suddenly awoken by a mental shout of horrified disgust.

Halvard didn't know what he'd witnessed, but he recognized the despairing scream as ("Lady?") hurled itself across the room and through the window into the howling storm.

Halvard went after her of course, and a mighty hunter was Halvard. Chrysalis, in her grief, forgot her magic, forgot her flight, forgot her shape-changing, forgot all but a desire to flee. So flee she did, and Halvard ran after her, skilled enough to track through a blinding thunderstorm. And, behind him, woken by the clamor came his fellow rangers, though not at such a reckless pace, as the rain made the footing treacherous.

The rain slackened as they came to a rocky cliff-face, Chrysalis never wavered and went leaping from one outcropping to the next, seeming little more than a shadow. Finally, the clouds parted, and Halvard had his first true sight of the Changeling queen, bounding like a deer along the cliff side. Streaming emerald was her mane, and a dusky ebony her carapace, gleaming in the moonlight.

Halvard saw her and was amazed, he had never seen such grace.

Halvard saw her, and the master hunter's focus slipped, for just a moment, as he set foot on the next stone.

Chrysalis heard him, that golden sense of amazement, such as she'd never heard before.

Chrysalis heard him, and turned to look.

Chrysalis saw him, as he fell.

Aiet.

He fell, aiet. From the cliff he fell, to the hard ground below, no fear but a glimpse of surprise on his face.

Chrysalis screamed, aiet, for the second time that night.

Chrysalis screamed, and Chrysalis leapt, her wings drowned out the storm and her horn outshone the moon.

She leapt and caught him, just before they struck the ground, both injured, but both alive.

Halvard's kinsmen needed no great skill in tracking to catch up, they only needed to follow the shouting, a din of furious scolding fit to pin back any man's ears.

"Of all the irresponsible things! Running, on footing like this! A hunter of your age, and you go hopping about like a maddened toad, not even watching your footing! What would you have done if I wasn't here, eh? What would you do? You'd have DIED fool man! And then what would I have done?"

On and on the diatribe went, like every man's disappointed mother all at once, Halvard's kin honestly hesitated to approach and involve themselves in whatever he'd done to offend.

Entering the clearing proper they found Halvard, wincing, being supported by a dark ebony mare, as large as Celestia herself, though gnarled and slender. Instead of a coat of hair, her hide appeared sectioned, and seemed almost to be made of polished ebony. She spared them no more than a passing glance before returning her attention to Halvard, though before she could open her mouth to speak again he gave her a firm hug.

"I am very glad to finally meet you properly, though I wish it had been in better circumstances. I thank you for saving my life, and I hope you will forgive my error, and my breach of trust."

She merely hugged him back, joyful relief washing away any thought of recrimination.

Fin.