TLetters From a Little Princess Monster
MLP: FiM
Adventure
Sad
Monster finds problems fitting in and getting used to her new world in Ponyville. To help adjust, she reaches out to Princess Luna who has many of the same problems now that she is recovering from being Nightmare Moon.
Alt. Universe
Celestia
Luna
Trixie
Main 6
CMCs
Georg · 420k words · 1,967 43 · 24k views

Letters arc complete and posting Monday with Chapter 10 of The Knight, The Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll too · 4:23am April 22nd

I have up to Chapter 99 complete in Letters From a Little Princess Monster, which is a little embarrassing since I *started* the arc in the middle of Covid season. It could have graduated from several universities in that time. Rather than tease bits out of it like I have before, I'm just going to go straight into my daily publishing routine and let you catch up on where I am on The Knight, The Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll while waiting. Enjoy!

Chapter Tracking

Chapter List of The Young Knight, the Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Letters Arc complete and Chapter 10 of Bridge Troll

Chapter 10
Break Time

It had taken quite a bit of work and still did not measure up to what Quartz considered a finished product, but it was a temporary way of moving things from one side of the ravine to the other without having them hand-carried across. Plus, it gave a good practical example of how the rope bridge would function when finished.

Each side of the ravine now featured a raw green tree trunk, dropped into a hole and braced so it could support a rope above the ravine. Then Quartz had hung a large pulley on the rope, attached a troll-sized bucket to it, and tied a rope to each end. It was by no means safe enough for Fetch to ride—in his opinion—and the knights likewise declined a trip across, but it made a convenient way to pass Broom-cooked meals over the gap so the knights on the other side of the ravine could chop down trees and level the ground without spending half their time making food. And Broom seemed to enjoy the additional work.

Work on the rope bridge had slowed to a halt over the last few days since they did not have enough rope or brass thimbles to do more than rough it out, and the planks for the flooring would have to be acquired from Nadare and their lumbermills. It all was dependent on Edward the Royal Engineer, and they had not heard back from the gnome yet, so Quartz had begun to rough out a few points on each side of the ravine by climbing up and down with a measuring tape and putting little bronze nails where each stone would eventually go.

It left Fetch underutilized, but Missus Triana said there was always work hiding somewhere if you just looked hard enough. So while Quartz was calculating and marking for the bridges, Fetch shouldered the scythe and brush saw to cut pathways into the thick grass and clumps of brush that surrounded their camp. At first, he merely struck out in whatever direction he pleased, but the meandering lines that resulted seemed unprofessional when compared to the troll’s meticulous work.

Cutting straight lines with the scythe was impossible, but inside a few days Fetch had organized paths stretching from the groves of fruit trees to the jumble of raspberries next to the upstream cliff edge, then into the deeper woods where the thick grass thinned due to the hardwood trees casting pleasant shade over a thick bed of leaves and walnut hulls.

The squirrels were numerous across the area, and fat with nature’s bounty. They made wonderful stewing, and gave Fetch practice with the elvish shortbow that King Tully had slipped into their supplies. The bow was so beautiful that he hated to shoot it, but if he ever was asked about it by the king, it would have been embarrassing to say he had left it in the ornate storage box.

Admittedly, carrying all the equipment at once was out of the question. Merely lugging the cut grass from his path-clearing would have kept him busy from dawn to dusk. Still, he never left the short bow behind, because there were still wild pigs out there somewhere, and several of the arrows had razor-sharp steel tips. It may not have been able to stop a charging boar, but might discourage an attack.

And thus he was completely unprepared for an attack of a completely different variety.

“Hi.”

It took a moment for Fetch to realize the figure who had dropped upside-down in front of him was Princess Tula. She was hanging from her knees on an oak tree branch that crossed his path, her bright green eyes sparkling in the sunshine in a way that made her mischievous smile… Well, it did things to his thinking that really were not sensible, and tangled his tongue into being nearly speechless, which was probably a good thing.

“Auiuh?” he managed.

“Dad sent some people up to work on the rope bridge,” she continued as if being inverted and talking were things she did every day. “They’re talking with your troll right now, but that’s bore-ring, and some of them want to pick berries so I thought I’d go looking for you and your trail is about as obvious as it gets. Did you know that?”

“That was the intention,” he said quickly. “Paths.”

“That was a joke,” she said flatly.

“It was?” He managed to blink several times and look away. “Oh, yes. Very funny.”

“I don’t know why I came out here,” grumbled Tula. She grabbed the branch and twisted around, uncoiling from the tree until her soft green shoes touched the path. Then she straightened up and stretched, brushing her hands off while ignoring the cascade of pale hair draped across her face.

“To get away from your father and your guards?” asked Fetch before realizing what she had said. “Oh, wait.”

The princess stopped with one hand in her tangled hair, then continued to tuck it behind her head in a loose knot. Fetch could not help but notice her ears, elegantly pointed at the top and a definitive sign that she took after her elven mother more than her human father. It also helped keep him from looking into those dangerous eyes again.

“There’s around a hundred people coming,” she continued, “not counting the wagons. Edward had all the measurements so my father ordered the flooring cut from our favorite mill. Some of the people who crossed the original bridge were talking about all the wild berry patches and fruit trees in the area, so a few of my mother’s friends decided to ‘observe’ the bridge construction, and they invited some other friends, and of course there have to be guards—”

“Because there are wild pigs in the area,” finished Fetch. “I know.”

Tula looked at him like she had forgotten he existed until he spoke. Then she picked up several nearby sticks, turned, and looked at a fairly distant oak tree. With one smooth motion and a glitter of golden magic, she held an elvish bow at full draw, released the arrow, and watched as it sped across the intervening space and thunked into the tree trunk.

Then she held out another transformed arrow for him.

It was an obvious challenge, and Fetch did not want to… Well, there were a great number of things he did not want right now. Fumbling the bow while taking it off his back was one, although he managed to get it strung without tripping over his boots, and picked the arrow out of her pale hands, only to drop it briefly.

Ottao used to shout at him when he was practicing with a bow, as well as poke his ribs with a stick and say embarrassing things involving the target, things that should not be repeated in polite company. It was good practice for keeping his head while dark green eyes watched him draw back, take careful aim, and release.

Thankfully, he hit the tree. Not as close to center as Princess Tula, but if there were any tree-sized boars chasing him, they would have to limp.

“Not as bad as I expected,” said Tula. Then she opened her hands and her bow turned almost instantly back into a stick, which bounced on the ground.

“And all the elves can do that?” he asked, still fascinated by the way the arrows in the distant tree slowly turned back into their original form.

“About half of my relatives,” she admitted. “I can out-shoot all my brothers but Polarius. He uses a crossbow. Any pig that shows up today is going to be pork chops in short order. I see you’ve been using Father’s gift on the local squirrels.”

“These?” Fetch was caught unstringing his new bow, and took a moment to find the brace of squirrels on his belt, feeling horribly redundant since it was obvious just exactly what she was talking about. “I was going to try a boil and bake this evening, but… how many people are showing up again?”

“Around a hundred,” said Tula. She looked at the three dead squirrels. “They’ll have to take very small bites.”

* * *

Once Fetch made it back to the camp, he had to wonder at Princess Tula’s math skills. Far more than a hundred people were involved in the bridge-building process, which had spilled out into a collection of cooks, a group of parked wagons, at least a dozen half-armored knights on horseback, and a gnome merchant who had set up her tent quite close to the boulder-house and otherwise out of the way. Since Tula had vanished upon sighting the first Nadare knight, Fetch wandered over to the table where the young lady—and he was fairly certain from the size of her small tidy beard—was putting the finishing touches on a number of small widgets and gadgets.

The gnome looked up with a hopeful expression, which abruptly changed to some sort of startled, formal look of disapproval, then she looked away, took a breath, and turned back in his direction.

“Sorry, sir.” The gnome’s head bobbed, making the tight ball of braids on the back of her head wobble slightly, but she did not meet his eyes. “It’s just that I saw you and the princess in the tavern, and I didn’t think you’d approve of my kind. I get that frequently,” she admitted.

Fetch really did not understand at first, or even at second. He had only seen the young lady briefly and from behind in the taproom while she had been meeting with a dwarf and a gnome. At the time, he had considered the possibility that they were her parents but had given the matter little thought since then. He had actually been thinking far more of Princess Tula, even though he would not admit that out loud. Mixed parentage had certainly not been a problem in the Royal Family.

The young gnome certainly did not look like anything anybody would disapprove of. He was no judge of gnomish beauty, but her squareish features and general facial shape did not exactly match against the few gnomes Fetch had seen pass through his home village. Then again, Fetch was kind of an odd duck in the pond at home anyway.

“What’s not to approve of?” he asked instead. “My name is Fetch. And you are?”

“Antikythera,” she said, letting the five syllables roll off her tongue in a practiced way that left Fetch longing for the beautiful language of his home village. It made him respond in kind without thinking, which only earned him a puzzled look in return. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Eastern. Were you interested in any of my goods?”

“Oh, yes. You certainly do fine work. May I examine that?” Fetch added, pointing to her table at a shining brass swan of some sort.

“Certainly.” She fumbled with the metal device while passing it over. “It’s just I thought… Well, you saw me mum and da, and… Well, they’s a bit shunned at home for what they is. On account my da is from there, and ma is a Doununderer.”

Fetch considered it for a moment. “I can see why having a gnome and a dwarf as parents would upset the elders of the Iron Mountain, but that’s no reason to be ashamed.”

“Oh, it’s not the Iron Mountain clans that’re upset,” she admitted in a rush. “They have some sort of odd romantic notions about their relationship. It’s just that Da’s family had a nice young dwarf picked out for him, and they disowned him when they found out about Ma. And then my mum’s family threw a fit because of his family throwing a fit and—” she let out a long-suffering sigh “—my parents plan on letting both families settle down before trying any reconciliation.”

It was worth some more thought, and Fetch really could not concentrate on looking at the intricate brass swan without asking. “How long has it been?”

“Thirty years this winter.” She fidgeted with a pair of slim pliers in her thick-fingered hands. “You don’t think the young lady who had been picked for Da is still waiting, do you?”

“I… would hope she has gone on to other things by now,” admitted Fetch reluctantly. Since it was a good way to change conversation topics, he added, “Did you know Quartz is building his bridge to attract a mate?”

“Really?” The gnome’s downcast eyes lifted at the news, and she gave the ravine a good, long look before launching into a series of detailed questions, most of which Fetch had no really informed answers for, but he tried his best. After all, Quartz most likely did not have a need for any kind of lifting mechanism to allow ships to pass by in the river below, or an automated device to count the number of passing wagons and bill accordingly.

As the discussion went on, Fetch learned that gnomes and dwarves both had rituals that involved making things for prospective mates. He really could not compare that against his experiences back home. His village had been old enough that all the buildings were established, so nobody had to make a forge for the blacksmith like Antikythera’s parents had done for each other, first as separate gifts, then merged together into a larger and more capable smithy when it seemed appropriate.

That certainly would not work for trolls and bridges.

It was a relief to talk about something other than Quartz’s ongoing task, but Antikythera was just as devoted to her favorite projects involving little brass latches and hinges. Fetch had made a set of hinges once at the village blacksmith’s forge, and even when they turned out lopsided and squeaked when he put them on his attic door, they still were his hinges and a point of pride. Nothing squeaked on the gnome’s toys and tools unless it was supposed to squeak, or in the case of the brass goose, make a rather honk-ish noise. In fact they were so fascinating and delicate that Fetch almost did not notice when he felt a feminine presence behind him, although Antikythera’s rapid look up over his shoulder helped.

“Pardon me, Ma’am,” he started, moving to one side. “I didn’t mean to block the table but—”

Princess Tula most certainly had her mother’s dangerous eyes, even if she was slightly shorter than Queen Vivia. It most certainly did not help unscramble Fetch’s mind as he found himself nearly nose-to-nose with Nadare’s Most Illustrious Serene Ruler, Queen of the Eastern Forests and Plains, who had insisted that she be simply called Vivia when he had last seen her at a greater distance.

“Good morn, Fetch,” she said quietly and with just the hint of a smile. “Have you seen my daughter around here?”

“Which one?” he managed. “I mean Your Majesty. Her Highness was… I mean… She shot a tree,” he finished, frantically wanting to kneel but far too close to the Royal Skirts to make the attempt with any kind of dignity.

“I’m sure she’ll show up,” said Queen Vivia, patting Fetch on the arm. “Miss Argyros, would you mind watching Nomor for a few minutes while I borrow this young man? I promise, I’ll bring him right back. Thank you.”

With that, Fetch found himself led away in the direction of the ravine while elven royalty held his elbow, something he had never expected before, but he was adding to his collection. In short order, he found himself on the edge of the precipitous dropoff, pointing out where the rope bridge was going to be anchored and the skeletal outlines of the stone bridge to follow, laid out across the far side in little metal nails that glittered in the noontime sun.

“I see your winch over there,” she said, waving one thin-fingered hand, “but how are people supposed to get to the bottom of the riverbed to work? I don’t see any ladders.”

“Err,” managed Fetch. “Mostly it will be Quartz working down there. He climbs. And carries me,” he added, even though Fetch had not really gotten a good look at the riverbed since his arrival.

“Seems terribly inconvenient,” said the queen, who then stepped forward into the open chasm with Fetch making one frantic grab for her elbow. To his surprise, a long drop and sudden stop was not the result, but in fact he nearly tripped over the thick vines which had coiled around his feet on their way to extend a short distance away from the vertical stone wall. He continued to hold onto the queen as they walked downward, with the thick vines both following and leading their path. The way an intertwined staircase literally grew up as they stepped down had to be elvish magic, and it was not until they reached the wet gravel bed of the river that Fetch realized he still had a firm grasp on the queen’s elbow.

“Beg pardon, Your Majesty,” he blurted out, somewhat trapped between the wall of the ravine and an escape out into the riverbed by the physical presence of the smiling queen in his path. One finger at a time, he released his grip, and the queen slowly shook her head while watching.

“This way please, young man.” She stepped out into the gurgling water, which was only ankle-deep in the places where she walked with her skirts held up. Fetch suspected more elvish cheating because he kept floundering up to his knees as he attempted to follow, and once almost dropped into a significant hole that looked to be deeper than his head.

“Do try to keep up.” Queen Vivia proceeded to the far granite wall as vines and flowers sprouted at her touch, creating another twisting staircase that attached itself to the stone just as firmly as the first. “My husband speaks well of you. He sees the brighter side of everyone. Then again, he has been instrumental in maintaining the peace among a dozen kingdoms. The ursurper has thrown everything out of balance. Your troll and his bridge is only a minor factor in the larger picture.”

“It should make life better for many people,” said Fetch, trying to stand up for his employer. “Well, except for the ferrymen in Three Rivers, but I would think their traffic will actually pick up as more people use the bridge.”

“Practical.” The queen paused a moment to spin a thick vine into a more secure location against the granite. “By the way, Alan is dropping by a little later,” she added, still looking away from him. “He’s bringing a bunch of thimbles from Forselt for whatever reason Edward had requested them. I’m afraid the actual details of the construction is beyond me.”

“Oh, good,” said Fetch, glad of the distraction. It had taken him just a moment to connect the name with Prince Svenson, but he continued climbing without a pause until the two of them were safe on the other side of the ravine. “This is easier than having Quartz carry me. And less embarrassing.”

“I suppose it is safer than traveling across in the bucket.” The queen turned to regard the three Nadare knights, who had lowered themselves to one knee. “And rise, good sirs. I am on your soil, or at least for the next few days.”

“That’s… I don’t understand,” said Fetch out of reflex and without really realizing the subject of his words.

“You will.” On that cryptic note, Queen Vivia turned her attention to the Nadre knights and their ongoing projects, in particular the beginnings of a small stable and barracks. She seemed to be quite knowledgeable about both the military camp construction and the longer-term impact of travelers, along with several clever quips about previous military engagements that probably occurred long before any of the humans had been born.

She was walking back down the vine-staircase before directing any more words at Fetch, and those came in a rather startling fashion.

“Did Sigmund say anything about having a bolthole in case the usurper decides to invade his lands?”

It was probably the most private way she could speak with Fetch about things others should not know since there was nobody else within immediate eyesight other than a few children who were investigating the upper steps of the vine-stairs on the other side of the river.

“Yes,” said Fetch with a growing sense of realization. “And in case the bridge fails, they now have an alternate way of crossing the river, as well as several of their loyal knights securing this side.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” said the queen dismissively over her shoulder. “The rope bridge will be up by the time we depart. And Nomor will cross relatively unnoticed.”

“So he can pass along information to King Sigmund,” said Fetch. “I understand.” Then after a moment he added, “And I won’t tell anybody. Although I should have been smart enough to let that go without saying, I suppose.”

“Far too many misconceptions occur because one party or another just presume,” stated the queen. “My daughter presumes we are being too protective of her, and don’t try to tell me she has not visited. She’s at that troublesome age where she thinks everything we do is just to annoy her.”

“Missus Triana always called it ‘feeling your oats’ and gave me more work to do around the village.”

The queen reached the bottom of the twisted vine staircase and began to delicately work her way across the river on the stepping stones. It took a certain amount of concentration, so it explained her relative quiet demeanor, at least until she reached the other side and looked up at a descending hummingbird.

Only it was not really a bird.

It was difficult to focus on the tiny creature, who seemed blurred around the edges and moving far too rapidly to track. Fascinated by the sight, Fetch could do little more than watch as it chirped to the elven queen, then turned to look at him briefly before flitting straight up the nearby rock face of the crevice until it was impossible to see. He was so lost in thought that he did not notice the queen resuming her climb until she was most of the way to the top, and had to hurry to catch up.

“That was a pixie, I presume?” he asked once he reached the top of the viney staircase and Queen Vivia helped him over the last step with one powerful long-fingered hand.

“Exactly.” She gave him a sincere green-eyed look much like her daughter had looked at Fetch. “Not many humans can see them.”

“I… um… Don’t they get chilly in the winter?” he asked instead, because it had looked as if the tiny creature was wearing clothes, but one kerchief could probably have dressed a dozen of them and still had enough cloth left to blow his nose.

The queen had a very elf-like laugh, high and delicate as a glass goblet. “They hibernate,” she explained, “although some of them take a few drams of wine along for the winter. I suspect several of them will be frolicing about your new home now that it is inhabited again. You should consider planting some flowers. Bright and colorful. The Wizard liked his flowerbeds, and since you are acting as caretaker of his home while he is away, I will see about getting you some seeds.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Fetch reflexively while his mind was still wrestling with his ears. “There were some abandoned beehives in the woods. I’m sure whatever bees survived will appreciate the gesture as well.”

Since Fetch was feeling a bit more adjusted to having royalty within arm’s reach, he could notice the way people surged away from their path, giving little nods of the head to Queen Vivia and acting like her escort was invisible as they walked along. Now that he knew what to look for, there were more than a few delicate features and pointed ears in the crowd of busy people, and since the Kingdom of Nadare had been around well over a century, there had been a lot of time for the two races to mingle.

After all, the king and queen made a positive example. Well, this king and the previous two.

It would have been an odd thing for a human, but living as long as they did, the elven queen must have needed a husband to maintain balance with the mixed population. They seemed to work quite well together, with interleafed strengths and weaknesses that made them stronger. And the people of their kingdom followed them quite well, much like Fetch found himself following along behind the queen while she returned to the gnome’s table full of clever gadgets and toys.

“Oh! Your Majesty.” Antikythera abruptly stood up from where she had been talking with Nomor over a complicated clock with too many hands. “Beg pardon. We lost track of time.”

It did Fetch’s heart good to see a smile on the dwarf’s wrinkled face, and the queen must have noticed also, because she extended a quelling hand palm-down to get Nomor and Antikythera to sit back down. “No, you two stay here until the rope bridge has been strung. I must be returning before everybody begins to ask me what they should be doing, and that would certainly end in disaster. Edward will do a far better job overseeing our contribution to Quartz’s project without me there to bump his elbow.”

“Missus Triana always said you can only have one cook in the kitchen,” said Fetch almost out of reflex. “Two means burnt biscuits.”

“Oh, heavens,” exclaimed the queen, holding one long-fingered hand to her lips. “We certainly don’t want that. Please take care of our guest in our absence, young miss.” Queen Vivia pressed something into Antikythera’s hand and moved onward, meeting several armored knights and retainers before being swept into a crowd and becoming lost from sight. It was so fascinating to see her switch effortlessly from personable and chatty with Fetch to sliding back into her reigning role amidst a number of subordinates who did not look comfortable at all being away from their comfortable homes and stone corridors.

He must have been watching the queen and thinking longer than he expected, because when he looked down, Nomor and Antikythera were examining a small wind-up mechanical animal and paying him no attention. It was probably for the best because Fetch could not think of anything to say, or at least anything worth disrupting their ongoing conversation in Dark that he was only catching occasional words.

Instead, Fetch wandered over to check the progress of the ropes being brought in and laid out under Dent’s and Quartz’s watchful eyes, then when he determined he was more of an impediment than an improvement to their process, visited with the small groups of housewives and children who were headed out into the surrounding area to look for berries and fruit. At least there he had useful input, since Fetch had found far more productive trees than he expected in the vicinity while out exploring, and the townspeople had brought many, many baskets for collecting.

The Wizard’s wife must have loved fruit trees. Although they were not ripe yet, several peach and plum trees lurked around the periphery of the area, with ripening cherries and several variants of harvestable apples closer to the house. They all showed signs of neglect from several years of the family’s absence, but there was a small tree-fort woven into the upper branches of one apple tree that reminded him about the children and their ongoing fate.

If Fetch were the hero he had read about in several books, he could gallop his trusty steed into King Seiki’s castle, rescue the magical family, and return them to their home. Then again, the wife was a princess of Plock and the rightful heir, so the ordinary hero routine would be more complicated since they were imprisoned in their home. Besides the obvious lack of any hero-type qualities in Fetch, the traditional reward for a hero rescuing royalty was the hand of the daughter in marriage, and if he had counted years correctly, that particular princess was not even ten yet, and her brother only a year or two younger.

“Halfpenny for your thoughts.”

Fetch looked up abruptly, only to see Tula’s green eyes sparkling with mischief. She had a stack of woven wicker baskets tucked under one arm and her hooded cloak draped to conceal most of her face from casual observation.

“Still ducking your babysitters, Your—”

“Tula,” said the princess very quietly. “Come on. Let’s get scarce before somebody notices.”

At first, Fetch was going to ignore the troublesome young lady, but with as little as he was getting done around the construction site, he had to do something.

“I’ll grab some more baskets and the scythe. We can cut a path to a grove of walnut trees that I hadn’t gotten to yet, and get some collecting of last year’s falls done while your guards are busy. Are you sure they won’t… be worried?”

“I think they’d be more worried if I didn’t try sneaking off. Here, let me take that.” Tula scooped the bow and quiver off Fetch’s shoulder. “In case we see any pigs,” she added.

It made for a far more pleasant afternoon than Fetch expected, picking up walnuts and adding a few more squirrels for the pot. And the company was… nice.

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