//------------------------------//
// The Deed of Benevolence 
// Story: The Six Deeds of Harmony 
// by Defoloce 
//------------------------------//


────THE DEED OF BENEVOLENCE────


ar up on high did there the griffins wright
Their eyries strong, a towered city vast
Of lonely ancient trees, each one apart
Within the bearest recall of an eye.

The Greifland was a wold of tall-grown grass,
Bespotted as it was with copses lush,
And those same colossi of tow’ring trees
A-piece held noble houses at their tops.

A deluge now beset it, batt’ring so
That even eyrie-trees could but adjure
For mercy as their roots were sopped in hate
And hateful waters loosing out the Earth.

The knight’s own heavy hooves were mired in,
His fetlocks saturate with Sky-born tears
As he was by-stood, stoic, in the rain.
Cadenza, Princess Love, was at his side.

Her horn glow’d strong in pleasant colours, such
To call up to a hostess far above.
The knight pawed strongly once, averting eyes,
But yielding to what wisdom touch’d Her mind.

The griffins there anon were come, in three,
Two tiercels with a matron at the van.
No words were spake, in stead the ponies brought
Themselves in humbleness to play the guest.

The matron lowed her head to Princess Love.
“I name us here hosts of Equestria,
But ere we so ascend, prithee forbear
Thy spells and spell-craft as a courtesy.”

Though hardy, both tiercels were made to bring
Their strength in fullest measure for the knight,
As he, well-thewed and girt so deep with steel,
Made steady burden for those born of wing.

With he a-loft, the matron gave attend
To fair Cadenza as they climbed the rain.
The clouds were never broke, not even as
They came at last unto the highest perch.

Before them was a tavern, modest-made,
Beyond it the great keep for their tree’s court.
The matron hied them in to dry their coats,
And on the sight of them the room was stirred.

The faces there of desp’rate gravity
Struck such to stay the knight from giving meet
Until his hostess bid them so to speak
Their own accounts of wherefore they had come.

“We name thee Morgenstern, O Love, for Thou
Art known to us.” The matron bow'd again.
“This stallion I perceive to be a friend
And so we Greife welcome him in turn.”

The princess, ever graceful, gave their meet.
“And Ingrid Freifrau von Grün be well met!
Mine aunts hath favour with thee and the clans
To east and south of here, as so recall’d.”

“May favour hold us, then, in what may come!
My niece Gerlinde plead out to the Sky
‘O ponies! sisters sure of Sun and Moon,
Burn off our tears which filleth lungs of life
In seeking thence to drown us in its rage!’
So They did answer us, and sent us love
And Love beside, with solitary knight.
‘Tis plain conceit Thou markst what vexeth us:
I’m baroness of greenery no more—
The verdure of our hunting-grounds be gone.
Know well an this persisteth, we will die,
My clan, die Grüne Kralle, must have meat,
And game must be allow’d to take its grass,
Yet all is flooded, and the earth be silt.
I see thee, knight, yet steel doth naught but draw
The lightning from a cruelty on high.
The sky and Sky alike be closed to us.”

The knight rose up his head. “Baroness wise,
Mine accolade was pass’d from Sky’s own hooves,
Mine armour from the smithies of the Earth.
Betwixt it both be us and Harmony.”

A mighty tiercel burst in from the rain
And shook the wat’ry lashes from his cloak.
“A goodly span of words, but words alone!
No keener lance than grief can pierce the heart.“

Cadenza made a curtsy to the door.
“My knight—Ernst, consort of the baroness,
The bravest of the western Luftrittern
Who served a people in a dire need.”

The griffin Ernst von Grün regarded him
With peerless value of those savvy eyes
So found in all his kin. His mien was light,
His feathers joyous ruff’d in levity.

“I’faith, I ken his look, a colt no more!
Thou wast the arming-squire of Brigandine,
And I recall thy service at his side
On long campaigning in the Grevyi Veldts.”

At this those so assembled gave a shout:
“A lied, herr pony! Give us now a song,
Or tales of winsome valour such we’d know
The met of what the Sky doth send to us!”

The boister’d griffin brought him close to breast,
His talons strong yet strongly genial,
A bond of comrades won in misery
And tasting bloodied bitter-sweetness strong.

“We Greife, though known more for war than peace,
Have Minnesängern cheered through all the world,
Our claws as given to the lute as spears!
Good Arnulf be a studied wright of song.”

The stallion thereupon began his tale;
The griffins for their part arrayed to heark,
The minstrel Arnulf giving company
To words with strings as rafters drummed from rain.

“My sire was a miller, grinding meal,
My dam pressed grapes for vintners in the spring.
Apprenticeships I could ne’er brook for long,
For though I be of Earth, given its might,
All thought and wit of mine be bent to serve
The Sky, as now. In colthood did I page
For barons and for counts in Canterlot,
Appraising court and courtesy to take
The solemn audience of Sisters’ eyes.
As so the baroness’s consort spake,
A knightly pegasus, named Brigandine,
Did taketh me beneath his very wing
As he perceived some whit of quality
In how I plied my service. Low in birth,
Without a peerage, as my master had,
Sir Brigandine petition’d for my way
And I became his squire, in a trust.
The get of Earth be vigour, as ‘tis known,
To there hold up creation to the Sky
In tribute, not in offering, so it
Beeth my gift to give my gentle Crown.
We made campaigns, and we bore swords for Them.
Sir Brigandine! in valour wert thou slain,
Thy life gave up in gladness to the deer,
And sealing thence a friendship evergreen.
In proving out my might, I then was struck
With blade of silver first, the sword of Moon,
And then a blade of gold for Sister Sun,
And thereupon a knight was I be-come.
‘Twas brought to bear as well it might be brought,
And I confess to blood shed in Their names,
Of mine and those a-like. Oft battled I,
Gave score to wickèd ponies, jewel-hounds,
And to thy kinsfolk in our warring days,
I took them all, of wizardry or wing,
Or earth as mine. The dragon Kulurok,
Who blight’d out the southern continent,
Was full in measure paid upon my watch.
Our marshal, Poplar Ridge, did loose its soul,
But lo, the matter had my steady hoof.
Of late, this Love’s attend I’m meant to be,
Her fiat now hath seized me for Her own
And, plucking promises from wind as leaves,
She thralls my heart, bound to another one,
And hers to mine. I now quest for my worth,
And for thy Harmony restored to thee.”

The knight made bow, and seeping quietness
Unfurl’d itself in terse leaden regard
To how the sky, from Chaos dolorous,
Might there, in irony, mourn them to death.

The griffin-minstrel Arnulf took new song,
Restoring there a fragment of the soul
And inculcating hope to his surround.
The griffins turn’d back to their mead and wine.

Gerlinde was amongst them, cloak’d and girt,
Though none had mark’d her silent entrance there,
A beautied youth of feathers tinged with green
As ferns in sprout. She soft addressed the knight.

“So thou art come, sir knight, and Morgenstern,
Imparting strength to frustrate scarcity
In needful hours. I would help in this.”
The Princess Love saw there a fallen crest.

“Then treat with me, my fetching warrior!
So whither goes the fierce alacrity
I saw a-like in thine own uncle here?
In friendship is there magick, here to serve.”

The knight fell to Her side. “My maiden strong,
A prayer brings not the Sky, the hope in stead
Behind whate’er be utter’d. Rancour tests
Thee here, Benevolence its antidote.”

The baroness Ingrid clack’d once her beak.
“Knowst thou, O Morgenstern, what misgives us:
That magick be forfended heretofore
As Greife have no met in its conduct.”

Her consort Ernst was dulled by her. “I’faith,
What age of innocence could taketh us
In near days or in days that we could see?
The world be steel, and steel doth sway the world.
That magick and empyreal designs
Delivereth the low to Harmony
Be yet a yarn to us, Equestrian.“

Unwaver’d was the knight to Gerlinde:
“And yet thy prayer was magick in itself
To call to us, so prithee entertain
Our int’rest. Speak what steel resolveth not.”

The warrior held up a scaly claw.
“A beat, sir knight, and hearken to the rain.
It counts the sentence by its droplets cold,
Relenting not in its severity.”

The knight’s own ears gave heark as was he bid.
“How now that we divert? We linger here,
Though verily as thou hast mark’d to me
Unceasing rain would reign and rain on still.”

Gerlinde fondly look’d upon her peer.
“So japes hast thou! Our own joy wilteth long,
For those new furies keeping now a-loft
Be not die Grüne Kralle in their make.”

“Then truly we remove ourselves from that
Which hath the use of us! A Luftritter
Thou art, I so perceive, as uncle thine;
Let us away to what clan thou speak’st of.”

“Die Weiße Kralle  be our suzerain,
The Herzog there, named Selig, at its head.
Their people suffer ‘neath his raging lash.
He poureth hate upon the peace-like way.”

Then Love look’d to the penetrating grey
And saw no ending but calamity.
“This rain be his, then. Chaos taketh him,
Yet whence his ire? Be all reason gone?“

The griffin-maiden of the Green Claw laugh’d.
“I dare not hope,” spake she, “for respite borne
To one whose froth of cruelty be now
The mantle of his subjects. Luftrittern
Be loyal to the Greife, not to him,
And marry! doth that matter kindle it.
Our wont of war be now a melting shoal
In rising waters as our Lieder turn
In stead to joys of loving and of wine,
And days pass’d soft in budding Harmony.
For him, he seeth might diminishèd,
A Föderation of simp’ring whelps
Without a taste for game or conquest held.”

The knight’s eyes shut to steal a moment’s thought.
“His desert in this torrent is nigh come,
His choler stirring more than low lament.
We must to him, ere all his clan be slain.“

Gerlinde found his humour buoyant, though
She took in fear this portent from the Earth.
“I hold to this no quick dubiety,
Yet I would have no battle in our lands.”

The knight did whinny, so denying it.
“Not he, rather the pure effects of what
He bringeth down upon the innocence
A-round him. Neigh, his home will come to earth.”

“So ‘tis for us,” spake Love, “but haste we need.
An my good knight hath drawn uneasiness
From tree and ground, then souls are on the block,
There to be rent an we keep idle here.”

Ingrid, then, and Ernst, did make attend
In due concern for what the knight had said.
The large tiercel look’d to his niece and brought
His spear to bear as he prepared to fly.

“Mein Nichte, rouse the Luftrittern to us!
An Earth bespeaks a peril to the tree
Of Selig Herzogs rule, we swift must act!”
She took his wisdom, bearing it out-doors.

“Bear me, my lord,” spake then the knight to him.
“I have not wings, but I would come along.
An thou wouldst bring me up before the duke,
Mayhap I could yet speak him down from wrath.”

“So might we all!” spake Ingrid, turning there.
“O Greife! an thou beest of mettle just
Then scatter thee and fly to all who’d hear
Of what befalls thy neighbours! To the sky!”

Cadenza nodded as they made depart.
“The Chaos quickens like an unborn foal,
And so would move to fasten on His will.
I’ll fly with thee, my knight, and tutor thee.”

The eyrie easy left the sight of all
Amongst the current of that heavy sky.
The knight, though stout, was lightly borne by Ernst,
Himself a griffin of a hardy make.

A-cross the heaving storm the knight could see
In muster threescore griffins on the wing;
Gerlinde, Ingrid, Arnulf and a host
Of bolden’d Green-Claw clansfolk flying strong.

“So cometh now the lesson,” Love did say.
“We bring us to an anger without steel
To meet it, as in measure with thy vow.
The griffins have no magicks of their own
And fierce reprove its practice in their lands.
I too am then beholden to an oath,
And sense mine own discomfort to withhold
Those sure and sure-like mainstays I command.
It grows our strength in searching shoots of leaves
Which spreadeth out and greeteth all the rain
‘Til they be drown’d. So must it be in love,
Antithesis of war, thy mastery.
A love is gentle, even in the squalls
Of passion and abandon buffeting;
Thou must not sink into a fury’s depth
And give thyself to zeäl in the strifes
Which call for temperance, and this thou knowst.
But know it for love too! An thou couldst speak
Upon a tempest, turning it to draughts
Without thy steel as thou art call’d to do,
Then be thou readied for a mare’s embrace,
For being steadiness in any storm.”

“Would not that I be passionless?” said he.
“It ever serves the mastery of self
To have a fury when a fury’s due
And mortal stoicism as one might.”

Cadenza’s gaze burn’d out in love to him,
A radiance no rain would hope to seal.
“Thy ken of pain be far, and test’d well;
The heights of joy in love may sterner prove.”

“Do mark her plea, my fellow,” then spake Ernst,
“That in’t be silver’d chains which could adorn
A lover’s neck, or weigh it, no less full
Of beauty in the act, save in thine eyes.”

He laugh’d and drank the rain-water of it.
“Joy to be fear’d? Then wherefore love commands
All those a-round me who glad give to it
In fullest measure, though they wilt from pain?”

“A fear that’s known is but anxiety
Which cometh then to pass or not to pass,
But look us now! the closing White-Claw tree
Be soon upon us, and I here depart.”

As Goddess Love and griffins sought the low
And common branches of the White-Claw’s tree,
The knight and Ernst were come unto the keep
Where Selig roosted, holding court for none.

“When all are saved, I will come back to thee,”
Said Ernst, the mightiest of Luftrittern.
“An thou art slain, may Sun commendeth thee
To what slow rest awaits the valourous.”

“I give a good account in all I do,”
Said then the knight. “In this, the least of which
Be to assure no quarrel musters such
To thwart compassion pressing them to live.”

Then Ernst made off, the knight left there alone
A-top the keep, with walls of stone in sky,
Borne down throughout the colossus to Earth
Where claws of Chaos dug a ruin’s bed.

Duke Selig soon was found within his court,
His throne a mass of splinters, he himself
A vision of the haggard tithe the cruel
Take from themselves in playing out their wont.

No crown was borne, nor scepter in his claw,
And erstwhile alabaster feathers now
Seem’d there but pallid, voided of their life
As though a mourning lingered o’erlong.

His voice was but a croak, bent so by cries
Of blinding heat as all a-round was torn:
“My little pony, thou at last art come.
I scentèd thee ere any of my kind.”

“I’m on a mission for Benevolence,”
The knight did speak, “and so would I save thee,
O Selig, Herzog von Weiß, from thy self!
Whilst thou art wroth, this rain will not abate;
Anon, this tree, though mighty, will be fell’d.”

“So fell’d by softness, yea, I know it comes,
A softness of the earth and of the heart
Which will, in turn, fell all the Greifes hopes
To join it there. In wrath are we but made,
And, in its keeping, so we too are kept.
It conjures worth in ponies, too, though less;
Would so that Love have thee abandon it,
Thy self ingratiating to Her will?
Thou bearest armour, but no arms, forsooth,
So I should take thee for a knight of words
And cups alone, content to brag thy deeds
In old Wirtshäusern far removed from what
Would testeth thee to better ends. Hearken!
Mark me now well, O pony pretending,
Knight-bachelor with no standard to stain:
I will sup on thy meat ere I be dash’d
And thence, so bonded, walk grey Tartarus!”

“We quarrel, then!” announced the knight to him.
“I be without nobility or wings,
‘Tis sooth, but thy get of me be too light
And thou shalt find me more than trifling soon.”

The duke of White-Claws even circled him,
A-bristle with the lusty shade of war
And death brought nigh, a sense which few doth seek
And fewer still return to drink it more.

A griffin’s met is swiftness, but for all
Earth-ponies dwelleth there a dauntless strength,
Communion with the land and all which grows.
A single strike did move him not an inch.

“I wish no hurt to thee, Selig, my lord
And better. Prithee take Benevolence
Into thy heart and nurse it there so that
An easiness might soothe thy malcontent.”

He struck again, to score but armour’s face
And find a mountain in his company.
“A weakness, so it is, as thou wouldst have
Our mete the weaker for’t. I fear not death!”

“Nor I, but I have much yet to be done!”
The knight did speak, in offering a smile.
“Be it not so for thee? What duke be loved
For roughness and not for prosperities?”

“We are the Greife!” came his keening cry,
A shard of lightning crash’d without the room.
“We ken the taste of blood, and relish it!
An we descend to meekness, we would not.”

The duke struck out again, the knight unmoved,
Abstaining answers to each sure attack.
“That makes the third,” he said, “so wilt thou yield?
My time with thee is spent; this tree now falls.”

“Then it doth fall!” cried out the maddened duke.
“An Sky will not have me, then let the Earth!
Would I be blind? Die Grüne Kralle stole
Out from the rain those who would cling to life,
Expending there all else which pride would buy.
Then they do leave! This Chaos be not mine,
As thou would speak it, but of theirs in stead!
Tumult of wills, deny what maketh them,
Deny what dæmons they would foolish chase!
So go, Equestrian, impart to them,
With aid of all thy saucy unicorns,
The magick that we can not use ourselves
But must be bound to serve in friendship’s name.
Then I do die! a Greif is left behind
For spite, and this tree bury it with him.”

The keep was moved as, far below, the earth,
So sodden in the rain, at last gave out.
The roots for all their size could clutch to naught
Like silken sand through a great dragon’s-claw.

The knight hasten’d outside and took attend
Of Ernst and fair Cadenza, their task done.
He was brought up, his hooves quit of the stone
Just as the tree fell over, there to die.

Away the White-Claw lands, and through the rain
The heaving tree was still within their sight,
So large was it. It cast itself down slow
And not apace, as though it fell in dreams.

The earth could not be seen from where they flew
For all the rain, but lo! the crash was heard
By every griffin, even those abed,
And sounded like the ending of the world.

The turbid sky shot spears of sun onto
The Greifland all about, and such was joy
Ere seen by none who lived to recall it.
The tree of the Green Claw awoke to praise.

“I hear their voices!” said Cadenza then.
“A sound prodigious, lilting to the Sky!”
The knight was brought unto the tavern same
Which shelter’d them in times of need removed.

All through the Green-Claw tree, in hamlets quaint
And cities great beside, the griffins sang
In kinship, feathers green and white a-like,
In celebration of Benevolence.

One shy of revelry, the knight would fain
Have taken up the quest once more, but he
Was made to stay a night by Princess Love
And take in his share of their gratitude.

“A kindness begets kindnesses in turn,”
Said She, “and this be thy reward; accept!
A fire’s lit—let us go dry our coats
And dance with precious friends who call to us!”

The boasts of good Sir Ernst were idle not:
A griffin-song could lift a heavy heart
And leave it there, but still the knight did sigh.
The fire offered naught to warm his mood.

“Mein Kamerad,” Gerlinde said to him,
“I hold thy task complete beyond all hope!
Thou here hast brought all glory to thy Crown
And mark this well: the Greife shan’t forget.”

“Would not that we forget, but I regret,”
The knight said to the griffin and to Love.
“The duke is slain, and I could not beseech
Him strongly ere he quarrel’d unto me.”

Gerlinde nodded, setting down her draught.
“‘Tis sooth that Selig Herzog will be mourn’d,
For none among us doubt the love he had
For land and people. Chaos took his mind.”

Cadenza bow'd her head and shut her eyes.
“Unhappy Chaos, it!” she soft did say.
“Am I a goddess full, or am I false?
To mend’s beyond the power of the Sky?”

The knight did speak. “In all these matters here,
For each of them, a mortal pray’d to Sky,
And Sky sent me, a mortal, answering.
I be Love’s student, yet Love learneth too.”

“O Morgenstern!” cried out Gerlinde then.
“Thou didst appear but in the recent skies!
Thou art not with a ritter as his guide,
But rather as his friend, so do I think!”

The knight put one large hoof upon Her wing.
“This quest be for my worthiness and thine.
Be not the goddess here, in stead the friend,
And we will both be greater for these deeds.”

Gerlinde gave a squawk. “Now fie to that!
This treacle wearies me. The time’s for wine!
I be the maiden who call’d up to Sky
And now Thine Aunts tell me to take a dance!”

The knight could not escape his callers then:
Tiercels who cuff’d him, hens who danced with him,
And Princess Love, his words of kindness set
In Her immortal heart, there to remain.

“O ritter!” said good Ingrid when she could,
“An thou wert but a Greif, an accolade
I’d give to thee, an order, as deserved.
I envy well thy mistresses, the Sky.”

“I’faith!” cried Ernst, “if Sun and Moon doth not
Make thee a noble, let me hear of it!
Would they know then the Greifvolks righteousness!“
The knight bow’d to them, showing up his thanks.

“My lady, Countess Ingrid, may this be
The lantern lighting friendship for our kinds,
That Harmony would stay for ever here,
Paid as it was on thine, in blood and hearths.
My lord Sir Ernst, I relish not the thought
Of thee as enemy, for thou art strong
As one of mine to carry me so far!
I am thy pony, now and ever more.“

The Luftrittern and other griffins brave
Who brought their fellows out from creeping doom
Made merry all the night, yet with the dawn
Came much solemnity and labouring.

The knight, beset with aches caught from the drink,
Was slow to rouse; Cadenza suffer’d not.
“Ah, mortals with their wine!” She laugh’d to him.
“I fret on goddesshood a little less.”

“I’faith? Then dost Thou too fret on my witness here
Of coarse and wanton acts Her Highness took
With aid of griffin-beer? Shall I recount?”
Though well it pain’d him, he did have his laugh.

“A payment, there, for Anchormeet, that face!
That count was mine, and now ‘tis gave to Thee!
O princess, wert Thou ever ladyship,
Becoming of a seat in Canterlot.”

She smiled to him, glad of his lighten’d heart.
“My soul be lift'd, knight, for conduct thine.
Becomest more the pony she would have
And less the pony thou hast erewhile been.”

Around them as they left the tavern hall
The myriad of White-Claw griffin-folk
Did true lament the loss of their home-tree,
But gave thanks for their lives, which had been spared.

The Countess Ingrid gave escort to ground,
Still nearly just a fen in its new make.
The ponies waved good-bye and bore out south
Into the forest-land of Cervinox.

There Chaos faltered more, perceiving loss,
But shatt’ring not misfortune’s hold on them.
The greatest test for one now lay ahead,
The fate there for the other as its prize.