//------------------------------//
// Book of Quarrel, Canto 3 
// Story: Fallen-Song 
// by Chicago Ted 
//------------------------------//

This storm had brought about a sandy gloom,
And Luna and the baker felt the rheum
Collect around the edges of their eyes.
They pushed on – this should not be their tomb,

Not so soon anyway. The sand-chokt skies
Above them swirl’d in a chaotic guise,
Yet ever on both stalwart ponies went,
Lest both of them lose their sight of their prize.

Should they give up right here? Had this storm meant
T’ abandon ev’ry shred of hope they’ve spent
To get this far? Since he was also blind,
Honeycomb stumbl’d – though this made a dent

N’ at all, for Luna pull’d him from his bind.
She told the baker, “You should quite well mind
The path in front of us. It shifts sans guess,
So stay close t’ me, lest I leave you behind!”

He took her wiser words to heart, no less
Without delay. Their pique they had t’ repress
As on and on the wretched sandstorm blew.
“Does this happen often?” “I would say yes,

But even I am not so sure. I do
Advise that you keep your mouth shut, lest you
Choke on the swirling sands around us all.”
This point well-founded she would not eschew.

Soon she found she could see through the shawl
Of her cloak, ’twixt the weft and warp. The squall
Would not relent, so useful this would be.
“O Princess Mine,” he said to her, “recall

When you would prance about your realm with glee.
Pray tell, what be your fondest memory?
Forsooth, there must be verdant fields so wide –
’Twas not sandchokt like this calamity!”

The princess thought on what she’d tell with pride –
So many countless stories. She just sigh’d
And skipt his inquiry. ’Twas not the place
For this dull folly. She maintain’d her stride

E’er onward, with the baker in her chase.
Without relenting, sand blew in his face,
Until he gaz’d up, saw what she had done,
And copied her. This left him not a trace

Of sand upon his face, and if the sun
Shone down upon them, they would simply shun
Its blinding glare. To be caught in a storm
Of swirling sand was certainly not fun,

But odd enough, it gave rest from the warm
O’ th’ overbearing sun. The dust did swarm
So unpredictably, and yet compar’d
To walking in the heat – which was the norm –

These winds, however strong they were, prepar’d
Them for th’ heat with their respite. Unimpar’d
Again, Honeycomb started after her again,
And praid that both of their lives would be spar’d

From th’ hazards o’ th’ storm, from whatever pain
It may bring them. Her magic she would train
Upon a problem, but at whate’er cost?
He reason’d, hence, why she would well abstain

From wanton usage. She would not bring frost
Where it could eas’ly melt, far too soon lost.
What wiles had she? This he could only think,
For asking her may only make her crost.

Still, Luna was truly not his sole link
To magic. Some years ago, he met a pink
Mage in his shop. She took a fancy at
The things he offer’d, then gave him a wink.

Alas, he had already marri’d that
Last spring, and he’d not marry her too. “Drat!”
She’d said, and left the shop sans further word.
He thought he’d ne’er see her ’gain– but begat

A longer feud than he at first inferr’d.
Not long after that incident, he heard
That she had moved into town. From there,
Her stops became more frequent. ’Twas awkward

For him at first, but as she pusht, he’d swear
That if she did not buy from him, he’d spare
Attention nary longer. This did not
Deter her in the slightest. Days were rare

When she did not show more than once. He’d spot
Her but outside, just looking in. She’d fought
With his wife, Cherry Wood, on several
Occasions. Soon she would leave, as she ought,

But always, as a rule, return’d, able
To slip in unexpectedly. That lull
Between the days he treasur’d well, for then
That mage would not annoy him out his skull.

It came t’ a head one average day, when
She came inside the shop at half past ten.
But this time, Cherry was awaiting her,
To her surprise. The mage tried t’ leave right then,

But Cherry mov’d in ways that seem’d a blur.
’Fore long, she understood how she did err
In coming back so often, promptly left,
And never once came back. Cherry’s anger

Would soon subside. “My kick does have some heft,”
She later told him. “She would not make theft
Of my dear husband. We two are fast bound,
So who was she to interrupt our weft?”

Honeycomb was just grateful that she found
Some reason in this case. “Well, I was bound
To find out what she seekt. Why idly stand
While she diverted your attention?” ’Round

That time, she had her firstborn filly plann’d,
But that was for another time. The sand
By now had calm’d itself, and sunlight shone
Hard down upon them once again. He scann’d

Th’ horizon, but saw not where they were blown.
“Had we mist anything? The storm’d not shown
Us much.” She lookt around, and nary saw –
As far as she could tell, they were alone,

Abandon’d by such little hope. What flaw
Of character had they t’ end up i’ th’ maw
Of terror? Yet regardless, up she rose,
And gestured him along. “From out your jaw

Your promise flowed of salvation – those
Words you cannot retract.” “Indeed! Who knows
Where it may be? E’en I know not, so let
Us go.” Again he started on the throes,

Determin’d not t’ surrender to the sweat
Of his walk or his work or e’en the debt
He left his only son. And Luna knew
That much as well – if not her, then who’d set

Her moon each night? She hadn’t had a clue,
Which only drove her further to go through
With his otherwise insane plan. Forsooth,
What other hope had she? “I should think you

Have something left to tell, be it the truth
Or yet another tale of distant youth.”
But Luna shook her head. “’Tis neither of
These things. I do not mean to be uncouth,

But don’t you think your stops distract?” Above
Them, she saw sunlight bloct out by a dove
Aflight o’erhead. “’Tis high time, I would say,
T’ return to th’ ones we O so dearly love.

Have you a plan now, or shall we delay
E’en more?” “My Liege, e’en I don’t want to stay
In this drouth,” said he – wistfully, he sigh’d.
“Yet so far, we’ve found nary help at play:

That gryphon, Glister, he well truly tried –
There’re other ponies, there he had not lied;
Yet wicked Bonesaw had nought t’ offer us.”
“Yet that’s no reason t’ stop here,” she replied.

“For other ponies might survive here – thus,
We should not stop with just th’ one we find. Plus,
That thing you seek – nay, we seek – one may keep,
So we should persevere and stay our fuss.”

The baker walkt, awander in thoughts deep
Of how, as soon as he fell right asleep,
He wound up here, with Luna here as well.
The answer might demand a logic-leap,

But soon enough he’d have a sign to tell.
He soon detected quite a distinct smell –
As though he drew near somepony so coarse.
He pointed with his hoof. “Hark! here must dwell

Another one.” “Pray tell, what be the source?”
She askt. “I could sense him from here, of course.
Can you?” Then Luna senst the sharp pungence.
“By skies above, I can. Who is this horse?”

“I’ve nary an idea, but my sense
Of smell has not once fail’d me – whence
It came, there ever can be only more.
We should brace ourselv’s, though in his defense,

The waters we have seen are rare, meant for
Survival here on this oceanless shore.
To bathe is folly, this much we accept.”
“Yet even so,” said Luna, “I abhor

Offensiveness like this. I’ve rarely kept
Th’ attention of those who have never prept
Accordingly – and those that I do hear,
E’er after I have rarely fully slept.”

The baker held his laughter back – for fear
Of her rejection. “Is that what you fear?”
“Forsooth, nay,” Luna said. “I’ve stomacht worse
In my reign.” Then she beckon’d. “We are near

Some answers better, I would think – averse,
Are we?” “Nay, I just ponder how t’ immerse
Myself. Regardless – ” “Yes, of course, indeed.
Let us go trav’ling there. We shall converse

To take our minds off his foul scent – agreed?”
“Quite well.” Against their better sense, they’d heed
The smell to follow it to th’ origin;
No other option was, so this they’d need.

The further ’long they went, the urge to shun
Grew ever stronger. “I would imagine
You’ve met some ponies quite as foul as this,”
She said. “Of course, the princess of the sun

Has had her share as well. It gives bliss
That, were she t’ reject, she’d not be remiss
At all. If I were half as demanding,
I’d see far fewer. I’d soon greatly miss

The company that the ponies would bring 
With their own grievances.” She held a wing
Affront her face, which did nought t’ stop the draft.
“Hazard you any guess as to this thing?”

“I haven’t even one.” The baker laught
Aloud. “Although, perhaps I’m far too daft
To think of something by myself about
The possibilities.” With comfort aft,

They knew there was no going back, no doubt
As to their fates. As they drew close, her snout
Began to hinder her advancement. “O
For clear night skies! Is this the correct route?”

“I am afraid it is – look where that glow
Glints right at us. That must be where we go!”
Indeed, where his hoof pointed, Luna saw
A twinkle of some shiny thing to show.

’Twas still too far away for her to draw
A picture in her mind – and yet this flaw
Did not dissuade them from ending this part
Of their trip. Whether this be an outlaw

Or somepony more honorable or smart,
She dearly hopt they freely would impart
Some information new. Would her guide be
Well-guided for once? Would they get a chart

Of this unknown land? Could they be set free
Even? They just would have to go and see.
Each hoofstep brought to them a further pain
Unto their noses. “It seems folly t’ me,”

She told the baker. “This foul scent does strain
My patience.” She then cought. “In all my reign,
I’ve never had displeasure quite like now.
Not e’en the stables of guards, where they train,

Smell’d just as bad as this. – And you have vow’d
To follow this one?” “How can you allow
An unchect lead like this, O Princess Mine?
Forsooth, you need to tolerate a slough.”

She knew she had to follow this foul sign
Eventually. She hopt she’d find no swine
At least, so she bore the aroma well
As she and her companion went to th’ shine.

They weren’t far now, for that pungent smell
Was at its apex, she could clearly tell.
Her eyes water’d, yet she forced her sight
To look who here in misery would dwell.

At last, they found a single, lonely knight
Whose armor seemed to be fused tight
Upon his body, leaving his true look
Unknown to either of them. Yet despite

The earlier struggle, here they were not shook,
For here there was nought to shake them. She took
The first step towards him, and spoke, “Please excuse,
Sir Knight. We seek salvation.” Spoke the rook,

“‘Salvation’? Bah!” He spat. “How dare y’ accuse!
Why don’t you use your magic? I refuse
To help the both of you, for clearly you
Can manage well your eventual rescues!”

Both Luna and the baker balkt in rue –
Was this a warrior, or a pauper? Few
Had half the nerve as this one pony did –
And even then, there he sat and did stew,

As though he wisht he’d presently be rid
Of them, for bothering his peace. Amid
The stillness and the silence, the baker
Said, “We still need your help – this much we bid:

You might well see, under our cloaks, our fur
Is chokt with sand from that storm. Not to spur
You on, but we are trying to leave here –
Pray, could you manage that much for us, Sir?”

“And why ought I?” The knight’s words did strike fear
I’ th’ baker’s heart. He stood, which let him leer
O’er him. “I’ll tell you what you need to know:
I cannot, must not, help you – is that clear?”

Then Luna interven’d. “How dare you! So
You see yourself a knight – then pray tell, show
Your chivalry t’ me, Princess of the Moon –
That much you can do.” This did not work, though:

“The Princess of the Moon – it’d be too soon
If ever I saw her again. This noon
Eternal must be your enduring bane.
Your sister, of course, sings superior tune – ”

“Sir Knight!” said she. “You must have gone insane!
In all my years of my and sister’s reign,
We’ve never been so highly slander’d! Nay,
I should not hear those foul words e’er again!”

He said, “You must be jealous of the day –
How she receiv’s your praise. Don’t you think they
Prefer the brightness and the warmth of light?
My perfect judgment you can never sway –

How many would show up amid your night,
Your precious night? They fear that it would smite
Them as they go i’ th’ dark, so they avoid
The dark at ev’ry cost – so speaks this knight!”

And as he spoke, his scent flared, which annoy’d
The others both. No wonder he’s devoid
Of company, she thought, with this routine.
The knight, of course, seem’d himself less than joy’d.

“You now know of my curse. I’m never clean –
You eas’ly smell’d me ’fore you saw my sheen.
This armor’s seal’d me tight; I cannot leave
To bathe it out of my fur. In between

The edges’s something you’d not want to weave.”
“The rust?” Honeycomb askt. “I would believe
That – rusted armor’s most inflexible.
We’d free you, this we’d easily achieve,

But first, what be th’ extent of your rot? Full
Of it, I would imagine, up t’ your skull.
And second, if you’d curb your humors poor,
We’d find your smell and temper toler’ble.”

“I shall try this,” the knight said. “Furthermore,”
Said Luna, “Once we your freedom restore,
You’re not to go back on your word at all,
Lest we make your hardship now but a sore.”

“Agreed as well,” said he. “I shall not stall:
What do you wish to know? Do make the call,
And I’ll tell ev’rything I know on it.”
“To start,” the baker said, “when we did fall

Into this land, we did not seek to quit –
Instead, we sought a way to make a slit
Between this world and th’ other, whence we came.
Pray tell, and pray that you shall not emit,

Where do we need to go? What is our aim?
Is even there a place that you can name?
E’en just a rumor is quite well enough!”
“Prying’s your nature,” said the knight. “A shame,

Then, that I’ve nary to offer you. Bluff
All you’d like, but my answer’s far too rough
For you to find use. That is all I’ve got
To tell you – now, shall you remove my scuff?”

“Perhaps we may,” said Luna, “but you ought
To stay here anyway. E’en though it’s hot,
I’m sure you’ve got a tale for us – how had
You come to this place? You’ve certainly fought

Hard and long, as your armor shows. Be glad
You fought for th’ princesses.” “You must be mad!
That’s not who I am. I’ve rusted from th’ lack
Of proper combat. Look at how I’m clad,

If you do not remember. On my back
You’d find a widening and rusted crack
Along my spine. You see it there, don’t you?
It leaves me open to a rear attack.”

“I can see,” Luna said, “but very few
In enemies are found here.” “If that’s true,”
Said he, “forsooth, then all the reason more
To pull my plates away, so you can view

My truer self.” “If you shall not go t’ war,
Then let us help you out of prison your.”
That said, her magic hover’d o’er the plate
That cover’d his back. With a grunt, she tore

It off – and soon regretted; th’ smell she’d hate
Came wafting through so strongly. “I must wait
A moment, kindly if you please,” she said.
Honeycomb buried his nose i’ th’ sand t’ wait.

She lookt upon his skin, which was rubb’d red
From prolong’d use of armor. “Go ahead,”
The knight commanded, “please, continue on –
I promise, my fetor will improve instead

Of worsen.” “If you say so.” This would spawn
E’en more offensiveness from him – forgone
Were untold days or even years. It staid
And lingered until his plates were gone.

And when at last the knight to them displaid
His naked form, they noted dully-graid
Fur, and a cutie mark of plates of steel.
Remarkably, nought on him had decaid.

He stood, and to them further did reveal
The ravages of idleness were real.
His muscles, long the pride o’ a Royal Guard,
Had wither’d o’er time, yet he still could feel

Relief at last. “I’ve promist you a shard
Of mine own life. Forsooth, I am no bard,
But gather here, and I shall tell of my
Time as a royal knight. This tale is marr’d

With anger and frustration. By the sky,
’Twas not all from a battle, but from my
Own faults. I never could tolerate where
My stallions commonly stood idly by,

With mindless chatter filling time. I’d stare
Ahead with fortitude, but they’d not care
At all about their charges. More than once,
I’d have t’ remind them how they all would fare

If they should fail.” “But why no abeyance?”
Askt Luna. “Surely you could stand th’ absence
O’ austerity, e’en but for a moment.
’Tis not all honor and duty. Patience!

My guards are rotated, but not for stunt,
But to ensure they’re not plact in the front
For far too long. Fatigue is something rough –
I’m sorry, Knight, but I have to be blunt:

You drove yourself too hard. – And don’t you bluff;
I can tell it by th’ imprints in your fluff
You’ve been on duty for such a long shift –
For anypony, that would be too tough.”

Said he, “I’ve been left here but just to drift
Sans aim for unknown time. I’m not as swift
As I once was, that I will say as much,
But please, I beg, spare me your pittance-gift.

If anything, I’ve been too soft – as such,
Whatever punishment you insomuch
Believe I do deserve, I shall accept.
If I shall never know another’s touch,

Then so be it; if promises unkept,
Then that as well, and if I soon be swept
Away i’ th’ wind, I bear that on my own.”
“That is quite noble,” Luna said, “except:

The things you’re proud of, that is what y’ atone –
Your discipline is yours and yours alone;
Nopony else is quite as strict as you.
Can you not once enjoy the life that’s sewn

Around you?” The knight said, “I never knew
At all of respite, from what I well view
As dangerous. That’s why I never rest
At all – you never know if you’d be through

Before your time.” He clear’d his throat. “At best,
A threat is not worth the time I have prest,
And then at worst, it only prov’s me right –
Which never happen’d, as you might have guest.”

“You’ve done just as well,” Luna told the knight.
“But my companion here, Honeycomb, might
Still want to hear your tale, as you have vow’d.”
The baker said, “Your story might be quite

An epic, or a crumb. You need not shroud
A detail from us, we are not a crowd.
Whatever things you’ve done before you came
To this land, you just need to speak aloud.”

The knight then sigh’d. “If you insist. My name
Is Vambrace; you might not know, for no fame
Has ever crost my path, and ev’rything
I’ve told that I’ve achiv’d you may well shame.

This goes back to when I first was aiming
For the position as a guard for th’ King
Of Crystal. Soon I’d get precisely that,
But soon I’d also run into that thing

We both call sloth. The Crystals had grown fat
With complacence. I had to fix this, stat;
The best way t’ do this, when their greatest threat
In all their hist’ry was a simple rat,

I found, was to discipline the lot – get
Them to stand at attention, never let
A day go by without a routine check
For anything suspicious that I’d bet

Would spell the end o’ th’ Crystals, not a speck
Unseen. And still they think they have a peck
Of time for them to rest. I strove to drive
This from their minds, with sudden drills on deck

Or even further time i’ th’ brig, to strive
Them to try better. They felt I’d deprive
Them of a thing they’d cherish most, but nay,
I wanted them t’ ensure they’d be alive

To defend if a danger came one day.
And yet with all my safeguards, they would say
I’ve gone o’erboard. How could I convince them
If they themselves are indeed okay

Wi’ th’ current state o’ affairs? This sloth would stem
One day, as I had fear’d, into a phlegm
Of shade that spread throughout the crystal-land.
We had no further choice, but to condemn

Those places lost t’ infection. We would stand
On th’ street, awatch for further danger, and
Sans warning, get the order to retreat.
In hindsight, ’twas not like these hills of sand,

Bakt in perpetual sunlight and high heat.
But to return, the illness soon did meet
The King and his kin. As before, I stood
And stoppt the pony whom I thought replete

With ill. As strict and alert as I could
Have been, he somehow too fell ill. I should
Have seen it coming, yet there I have fail’d.
I had no choice but to leave him for good.

O how remorseful I was since! I’ve bail’d
On my charge. My subordinates had pal’d
When they saw how distraught I was, for fear
Of what I’d do to them – which soon prevail’d

Into despair throughout the guard. Their cheer,
Which I had thoroughly despis’d so clear,
Was superseded by an ambient gloom.
I would be glad, but somehow ’twas not near

The satisfaction I’d expect. No room
For petty things? That was what I’d assume.
Regardless, I an’ th’ other Guards would take
Responsibility for our king’s doom.

It was not easy to do this – forsake
Him in his time of need, but we were spake
T’ avoid the ill ourselv’s. The others well
Understood what we had t’ do. A break

At that time’d spell disaster. Despair fell
Upon us; soon that sickness had befell
Me. When that happen’d, I’d but one option:
I had to leave my guard post, and go dwell

Among the ills.” She thought that he was done,
Yet he continued. “That place was barren
But for the dirt and dust and other stuff –
And yes, those throngs of ponies ill were fun.

To live as royal knight itself was tough,
But that compared not to just how rough
The ponies were to one another there.
But soon, the fates thought I had had enough,

And one day, here I woke, and on my hair
Was shining armor steel, which was my lair
For all this time. And yes, I could still move,
But that condition would not last fore’er:

The paint did not do well wi’ th’ sand. It’d prove
In fact to strip away it, to remove
Whatever indication I once had
As Knight of Crystal.  Thus, it would behoove

Me to remove it when I could. Too bad
For me, for it held on fast. I was clad
In useless armor, difficult t’ extract –
Why, I’m surpris’d it’s not driven me mad!

I’ve been like that forever since. In fact,
You’ve been the first I’ve met. Comp’ny I’ve lact
For countless days, especially since this day
Does never end. This pointless artifact

You graciously remov’d from my – ” “Okay,
I think we’re all caught up,” said Luna. “Say,
Do you know how much grief you have caused
In your time as a guard? All work, no play,

It’s nary wonder why they had no shred
Of pity for you. Get this through your head:
Know when to draw arms, and when t’ stay your bite.
So many times I’ve seen my guards wind dead

Because they did not heed my words. You might
Be shoct, but you were far too harsh, Sir Knight!
I’d be asham’d, most deeply so asham’d,
Were you to serve i’ th’ castle guard o’ th’ night.

You ought to thank the stars that you’re not fam’d
Much further than the Crystal-Lands. You’re blam’d
For ev’rything wrong in that time of ill –
And rightly so; there was a phlegm, you claim’d,

And in my wisdom, I know the cause is real:
Exhaustion! You workt those guards in a drill
That never ended once – how dare you think
Yourself a Crystal Knight! You have the skill

To take on any foe, but not to drink
The same ’neath th’ table – know which is the wink
Of that desire, or something more malign.
To wit, that now explains why you would stink!”

“I would not trust you around my shop’s sign,”
The baker interjected. “You’d be fine
If you as Royal Knight chose to step down.
By skies above, as sure as sun does shine,

You’d never once be welcome in my town.
Your martial tendencies have caus’d the frown
Upon their faces – and ours too, I’ll add.
Your mindset has made you to us renown

A sinister one, and you think we’re glad
You made those changes in your ranks? – ’tis bad!
And you were spirited here, as it were,
Awander lonely as a lost nomad!

Come, Princess Mine, we’ll leave him here t’ suffer
His consequences for the remainder
Of time. What do you say?” “I must agree,”
Said Luna. “Your deeds caus’d us such anger

That we cannot just set you bad knight free.”
With nary word, poor Vambrace could well see
Them trot away in anger. What defeat!
Why, he could eas’ly have made these two three,

But nay, he had t’ open his mouth, replete
With sorrow-causing muck. If he could eat,
An endless feast of crow awaited him
In choking sand and armor-warping heat.

On th’ other hoof, they were full up to th’ brim
With this land’s nonsense. Their patience grew slim
For their salvation, yet they again were foil’d.
Their own luck, as such, was now e’en more grim.

To save that knight – he may as well have boil’d
Away inside his armor, while they toil’d
Without his help. They were willing t’ assist;
It would have gone well, if he had not roil’d

Them both. As they went, they both did resist
A broken quiet. Sans talk, they did insist
That Vambrace ought to be left in the dust,
Seek out another, and perhaps enlist

That pony in their journey, if they must,
But this would take no small amount of trust.
So far, between three beings, they have found nought
In th’ way of help on their quest – which was just

As well; they journey heav’ly had been fraught
With such misfortune. Are we, Luna thought,
In the wrong place? Is ev’rypony so?
These questions may have answers she would not

Like to hear, so she dar’d not ask to know.
And as their journey started to grow slow,
She lookt up to see but a single cloud
Adrift i’ th’ wind. She was charm’d to follow,

But kept by her companion’s side. Endow’d
By his guide, she saw hope – he must be proud
At least to have hope in desolation,
And thus he’d lead her back home, as he vow’d.

Unlike before, no storm had bloct the sun
From beating down on them. They could well shun
Its light and heat with their cloaks, which cover’d
Them head to hoof. Their trip had just begun,

So Luna could tell, and they both were spurr’d
By their salvation. Be it worth the word
They’ve had with strangers ’long the winding way?
Despite who they found, they still lact a third

To walk with them. Just for respite she’d pray
From blazing heat and the forever day;
She wonder’d how the baker could stand this –
He sounded not the least bit fatigued. Nay,

In fact, he was more chipper than e’er; bliss
Had taken stranglehold of him. She’d miss
Those times back in Equestria, where she would
Walk freely in the Everfree. A hiss,

And she felt a much cooler breeze. So good
It felt upon her parched skin, it should
Have given pause. Yet verily she went
Along without a stop. She eas’ly could

Ask him if he needed pause for him t’ vent.
He never raised a concern – which meant
He either seal’d his vitriol in tight,
Or truly he had nought – he was content.

Honeycomb was no Princess of the Night,
Unlike her, Luna. Even so, despite
His meager status, he show’d fortitude
That even she thought was borne from a might

Unknown to her and most before. She view’d
The serendipitous trait as not rude,
But firm demeanor, unlike Vambrace’s.
She realiz’d this would highly be valued.