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// From the Sea, part two: The Summit of All Fears 
// Story: From the Sea 
// by ForeverFreest 
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As no one would heed him, and no hearth had holp him
So Silver was sent to go solely, and spurned
So fled he from out of the clans who had shunned him
Yet willed and avowed one day soon to've returned

Now heedless of obstacle, path, or direction
The youth yielded nothing, and hardly did halt
And never looked back, lest like Trot's wife of legend
He too should be shaped to a standard of salt

So galloped he on through the fields and the marshlands
And only in front did his gaze ever fall
And beggared his breath grew, and fewer his footsteps
Unaided by wing, through his strength plew a pall

At long last he came to the roots of a mountain
A remnant of giants, a shard of a throne
A kingdom of age past, a long-ruined splendor
The future that Silver had come to disown

When they came over the sea
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

For hours gazed he at the tower, which treeless
Had served as a sentry, surrounded to stand
And standing surrounded, had stayed still superior
In all ways majestic, above all the land

The mead-hall of giants, the conquest of heroes
Which through ages long past had stood at its base
The ring-room of elk and the playroom of eagles
Who soared round its heights with superlative grace

The bane of the ruthless invaders from outlands
It stood as a sentinel, barring the way
But unto those willing and strong and courageous
The monument toppled as it were of clay

For it was a magic time, when both immortals
And mortal magicians held runes carved by Wyrd
And often as not, held the runes unto leylines
Though not 'til the warlock was lengthy of beard

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

So as the colt stood by the sundering stonework
Awaiting the dawn which would bathe it in light
His soul, steeped in sorrow, soon sensed his surroundings
And Strength, all-pervading, filled Silver for flight

Aye, filled him with courage (though he was not lacking)
And heartened him hardily, set him for ought
It stripped him of sorrow, and quickened him quivering
No nervousness this, but a powerful drought

Which acted as ale, though it veiled not his vision
Not blindly to battle, but bravely, and bold
He clear coursed with confidence, caring, and careful
Ran reckless no more, though he faced the untold

And thusly imbued with the blessing of Fortune
He strode forth with sureness and faith in his quest
Empowered with energy, never ambition
For his selfish gain, he stood pure of the rest

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

So set he his mouncher, and folded his fliers
And straightway set out on his long journey up
His blood coursing now like magnificent magma
No food he required, nor soup needed sup

So never he harked to the hell-hail and howling
And whistling winds but as whispers did sound
His eyes fast' he forward, and fairly was flying
No freezing, no frailty he felt on the ground

Steep upward he soared; though on hoof, he was gliding
So safe was his soul and so healthy his heart
While fire of phoenix full flared from his lamp-lights
He smiled and ascended, and straight as a dart

And straight as a dart was he lifted by Whoadin,
Who graced him with wisdom and strength to rebuild
They say that the gods help those ponies with passion
So Silver was holp on his quest for a Guild

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

But this is a story (and natheless a true one)
And stories read best when the scroll is unfurled
So hie we from Silver, and make the map smaller
And fly o'er the land as with wings o'er the world

So passing through prairies and running through rivers
And trotting a bit through the marsh and the fields
At last we arrive at our story's beginning
The place—not the time—and see what it yields

So firstly we visit the unicorns' commons
Where they were constructing ballista and sword
For tall trebuchet they felled yew in the sapling
And vines and e'en fishgut they strung into cord

So all was in shambles, though strongly constructed
And Dvalin's Delight then in shame failed to shine
And almost all ponies forgot their old nature
And all of old Nature began to repine

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

But even in times when the world seems to crumble
And reason by fickle Dame Fortune is tossed
She never annihilates Order's firm foothold
And Harmony's cause is but veiled, never lost

For there was one unicorn, sprightly and cunning
Whose horn only served her to act as a lamp
A filly was she, and her magic uncrafted
But never for ought grew her young spirit damp

They called her Young Aurum, the daughter of Scefing,
Who ruled all the unicorns westly of Gryph
Who had now assembled and readied their mana
And waited and stood at the base of a cliff

For she was not like them, Young Aurum of Scefing,
And never she warred when the bloodmoon was full
She set out for peace, and for Harmony's Order
And ready and waiting the hate to annul.

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue