"Ladies and Gentlemen, take my advice. Pull down your pants and slide on the ice." ~ Dr. Sidney Freedman, M*A*S*H S3 Ep5
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Shipfic between Garble and Bloomberg. With the tragic tag.
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It ends with fire.
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Garble looked upon the fallen timber; decades of rot along its thick trunk having finally claimed their target. For an apple tree, Bloomberg towered over the rest. Hundreds of years could do that to a tree, and while the outer bark showed promising, from the inside, it had succumbed to nature. Moisture lead to rot, and rot lead to weakness, and trees often rotted from their center outward.
Bloomberg was no exception.
Garble laid beside his fallen friend, companion... lover. He knew the enchantment he'd requested the big sun pony to use wouldn't hold up forever, but it still gave them more time than he'd ever hoped.
"Bloomberg, I just want you to remember... I love you."
Bloomberg the tree said nothing. It was a fucking tree.
"Now, I shall honor you with a pyre good enough for any dragon."
So Garble, with a mighty swipe of his massive wing, cut down an entire acre of young, virile apple trees ripe with fruit, and piling them around his fallen love. Once satisfied, he drew in a large breath, tears streaming down his face. Releasing the wave of fire and heat, those tears turned quickly to steam. He sat near the pile for hours, watching as all the wood burned (and some parts of Appleoosa, but they'd survive.)
The fire lived hot and strong for a week, and once Garble was content with the loss of his love, he took flight, knowing deep down that he'd never see his beloved Hunk Trunk again.
Meanwhile, Braeburn the 12th looked on with horror as his entire field of apple trees was pretty much gone. A single tear shed, knowing the heartache and loss of one's first wood love.
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Beautiful
I pay for more chapters of the-whittler.