Arriving from Another Road

Slowly a foolish and blinding sort of pride had come into her; generous yet selfish; egotistical yet not vain. In her centuries as the single sovereign she had forgotten the true value of working alongside others; had forgotten the strength inherent in faith and reliance; had forgotten the courage needed to sometimes trust in and surrender to those that one loves. An essential lesson in the magic of friendship, sadly lost to disuse.

I sat down this weekend to do some writing and for no reason at all I wrote something different. About 4,000 words of something different. Maybe "no reason" is a bit strong; everything is built from its own infinitely cascading root causes, no matter how far or foggily they reach back; it just came about this time that I had no particular interest for these thoughts until I suddenly did, at the precise moment I sat down. These thoughts have been something I would occasional ponder over in small bits during the most idle of times between all the usual concerns of life. Whims/fate/ordinary shenanigans just decided it was important now I guess.

At that critical moment, Prideheart, a high ranking unicorn stallion of the Royal Guard, defied the Princess's orders and emerged from hiding, the only pony in all of the Royal Guard to do so. Like the Princess he was staunchly unwilling to see even a single pony harmed. It was not within him to allow such a travesty.

It may wind up being nothing in the end. That happens a lot with me as far as writing goes, though none of them are misfires. It's just that in matters such as this I do as I do until I don't. I guess the only thing that makes it unusual here is that I've entered this unspoken pact with those of you who are politely offering me your minds and eyes, wherein it is understood that I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing but we provide each other with our best efforts. I put forward what I can with the current story I have been presenting you with on a timetable not defined by its specificity but by its commitment; I have rarely written things of such length but I keep a part of myself aside to work on it anyway out of a true respect for our mutual respect; I go beyond myself in this area of writing, not as a means or measure of talent (because I am not talented,) but because your presence alone has convinced it is worth it in this instance to try. And you... well, your place in the pact is often only ever your silent and invisible participation in this exchange; that you allow your humanity to feel something, solely through the act of someone else producing an art and presenting it to you; and in the instances when you do participate with feedback you show your honesty nobly, which I appreciate.

What I am trying to say is: I cannot make promises of speed with regards to Necessary Love... because I never have been able to! This whimsical side-pursuit of mine may or may not slow it down; I cannot tell. For now worry not. Even though I wrote this other thing I still scribbled down two and a half thousand words for chapter 18. More importantly, one thing that hasn't changed is the nature of our pact: on my honor I still have the commitment to create that story and show it to you. That has not diminished.

Before all who were present the Sun Princess humbly confessed to her complete culpability in what had occurred, sincerely apologized to the valiant pony who had shouldered the cost of her failure, pardoned entirely his violation of her wrongly given order to stay hidden, and awarded to him a rightly earned Medal of the Valorous Heart; an honor of recognition given to any of the Royal Guard who are injured in the line of duty.

But this is the part where I think I should allow rationality to have its say.

It is improbable that Necessary Love won't be affected in time. True that Melancholy Days was twice the length of What Separates but yet written in the about the same amount of time. However that hardly means I can charge along easily with two stories, heedless of the danger to the threads in my mind. I mean... maybe I can? The 'I never knew I could!' is a bit of a cliché plot device but it isn't devoid completely of truth. I'm just experienced enough to know how stupid it is to bank on it, and more significantly to me that indulging a fearful sense of blindness may intrude on the fun I seek to have by even trying these stories.

I tell you this now because I think it's fair to apologize. Now, one can say, and I know in general I have always maintained, that these things like online stories are "not important" in the grand scheme of life. You can find many tales on this site, no doubt many better than mine, and it seems almost absurd to treat this author/reader relationship of ours with some kind of truly heartfelt respect. In that light one would insist my apology is no more than a formality; a social dance to conform to polite expectations.

But I don't think so. I think some things can have value because we choose to give them value. And I want this to have value. This... untouchable, and not completely describable little thing between you and I. It is the safe position to say none of this truly matters. But... is it so bad? So bad that, for just a little bit, when I am on here posting, or you are on one of my pages reading, that in that short window of time in our lives, we can believe in a truly human connection between us? Not because we want to produce inside some feeling, validation or otherwise. And not in some wild hope that it will be essential to the future in some random way. But just because... it can be a true thing if we believe it? Just because it can be true right now? And for this thing, right now can be enough?

I love that I live. I love that I feel.

So, to carry through... I apologize. I am sorry if Necessary Love receives any sort of negative impact from this little journey aside.

And it wasn't enough.

Whatever of her genuine feelings that actually managed to enter his ears was blocked out from heartfelt acknowledgment by his pain. It just wasn't enough! It wasn't enough for the all the lives that she had endangered!

In that very moment, driven by all the chaos swirling inside him, he made an angry decision.

If you're familiar enough with what I've already posted on the site than you've likely picked up by now that this alternate writing is part of a Drypony sidestory (and specifically, what is already written and presented in snippets here is an account of Prideheart's tragedy.) The Drypony setup always had room for more. And I've thought a lot, both seriously and whimsically, on those many 'more's over the past year. We'll see if this particular 'more' bears worthy fruit, and if you like what I've done so far then hopefully you'll like this too.

Whereas the unofficially named "James is a Human Dude in Equestria and Maybe He Talks with Twilight About Friendship and Stuff, I Dunno" series is a very intentional attempt to reach out into the ether and clasp things about people, drawing those ideas and concepts and thoughts and feelings back into the story (and the narratives are just fanfiction wrappings for those thoughts, really,) this sidestory would be different. It would be a tale to tell a tale, and then we see what ethereal things get attracted to it. In this way, relative at least to my skill as an author, we may in fact see something stronger, better, and more exciting! I'll have more focus on telling something good because I want it to be good. One foot here has been stepped into a place that is outside of myself; a move which in the future I hope will have proved bold.

And it should be a short story. The literature concept of a short story, that is; not a story that is literally short. Please, Lord Jesus in Heaven, let it be a short story. Cause it is blowing my mind that Necessary Love is closing in on the same length as Melancholy Days and it still has a healthy chunk more to go. Why do I love having all these words? Why do I love it so?

The passion in them had cooled and they could not anymore abandon their new lives for his sake. And he, though a broken hero after his ordeal, still valued protecting others above all else. He in turn did not at that time have the wherewithal to abandon them, despite his own wishes.

And so the months became years, and the torches of camp became the lanterns of home.

So, thank you for reading my explanation, and anticipation, and apology. And enjoy this little peek that I've interspersed here.

In my little author-bio card it reads, "Amateur, hobby writer." And in another blogpost I have professed that there is a very significant way in which I am not actually a writer: the passion is not there for me and I do it all for fun. It always has been true. I tried very hard at one point in my life to be passionate about it. That came to an end not because I failed but because I realized I was numb. All the hard work, all the straining to pour myself into it produced nothing of value to me. On the other hand, wheeling free and having fun brought such joy.

But now I think that... then again... I was only just a kid back then. High school. And you know... I even wrote a line where James tells Princess Celestia that, "I've still learned and experienced new things even after becoming a grown adult, and I've known even older people who've kept up the same."

I don't know if this sidestory is the thing to change what I wrote in my author-bio card. But there are many changes that come about because of a million little disconnected things, and we don't even realize the change has happened until its over.

Holy shit. I might be a writer. It might have all just sauntered down a path I never could have possibly predicted.

Shown forgiveness and understanding by the Princess's pupil, even in the face of the Dryponies' rage and aggression, the wayward ponies grew the very bravery of heart they needed to pass along the same forgiveness to Princess Celestia for her role in the fall of their hero four hundred years ago. At long last Harmony was restored. The great rift which had been caused by foolish pride, noble sacrifice, and evil dragon fire, finally closed up and was healed.

For most of Equestria anyway.

For some very few ponies... mystery, and pain, remained.

The trail of a broken hero was not the same path the Dryponies had walked. As he had eventually discovered himself... the founder had always been separate from them.

Thank you all so much for being you and reading what exists because I am me. To me it is a profound thing; something that I can weep over. I love you. Choose to make things significant. You have that power.