Fallen-Song

by Chicago Ted


Book of Quarrel, Canto 6

The grains of sand that blew into her mane
Outnumber’d the stars, much to her disdain.
She wonder’d if, when she would wash it out,
She’d make her own wastes with what it’d contain.

Which was not t’ say o’ th’ baker, who about
Had just as much as she, if not, no doubt,
E’en more. Between the storm and th’ pitfalls deep,
They both were coated all the way, from snout

To tail, in that dust. They would have to steep
Themselv’s in water, where they’d find, to keep
Their fur clean and cool. As they went along,
The wind pict up, and blew to them a heap

Of sand. “At times I wonder just how wrong
My thoughts o’ th’ future are,” said Luna. “Long
Have I liv’d, yet some things still astound me.
I’m sure you, baker, know of that same song.”

“Indeed I do,” he said, “but I don’t flee
Fro’ th’ likelihood my instinct may yet see
Me right, and prove as such.” “I well can tell
Your point,” said she. “During my regal spree,

I saw so many ponies, most unwell
With grievances that I had to dispell.
Some were meant for my sister, so I’d send
Them out, and told t’ return when my moon fell

Below th’ horizon. A few, like your friend,
Your son, saw merit in the darken’d wend
To my court of night, t’ see if I could solve
Their things of trouble, see them to their end.

I truly tried, but your ills did involve
A deeply-seated poison. To resolve
It would need something anyone had not.
You might have seen how the tar did dissolve

My magical grip on the realm of thought
Between the dreams – so even if I sought
A cure for Shade’s Corruption, is it worth
The pain or the expense it would have wrought?”

“To end th’ affliction, I’d give up the mirth
O’ th’ moment, knowing fate would still give birth
To greater pleasures. Better far than t’ wait
For that eternity when plac’d in earth.

You would not know this true, what with your fate
Of life, alongside sister dear and great.
She raises up the sun, and you the moon –
Should you pass on, what awful things await,

And who should take your royal duties soon?
So much I worry for, despite that boon
That I need not do any of these things.
What next, I ask? The night to turn to noon

Before we wake?” “That is not true – such springs
Of light would never pass, for the moon brings
A shield to th’ sun perchance they ever pass
I’ th’ sky together. The night and day swings

From one to th’ other, yet they ne’er alas
Shall cross their ways. My moon will win th’ impasse,
There you have my word.” Thus the baker said,
“I do suppose I’ve never seen the grass

Be lit as well at night. But in my head
I’m still sown seeds of doubt – I duly dread
That something may go wrong still.” “Then allay
Your worries,” Luna said. “Sooner would thread

Hoist up a granite roof before the day
Would pierce my moon. Now if you’ll do away
With your hesitance, I do spy a place
To rest our hoov’s.” “I see it!” Sans delay,

They both took off at quite a breakneck pace –
With wind to blow the sand into her face,
The lunar princess then pull’d o’er her cloak
To hide her eyes fro’ th’ grains. “’Tis not a race!”

He call’d out t’ her. “I say this not as joke,
But as a warning too!” But then she spoke,
“If you recall from last time, we should haste
Before that place may turn to ash and smoke!”

As they ran on, Honeycomb could well taste
That sweet life-liquor, which was deep encaste
Beneath the ground. He’d need it sooner, too –
The running left him parched as he chaste

On to his goal. O what a splendid view
It was from where he ran – it was no slough,
But dotting trees meant water ran beneath
For them to tap into – that much he knew!

To his surprise, he found a grassy heath
I’ th’ shade o’ th’ trees – the water sure was ’neath
For them both to drink up – and when they stopt,
He spat the gather’d sand from out his teeth

And started digging at the ground. “I’d opt
To let some magic do that work.” He hopt
Aside and let her work. She felt it out
With her light, then, when her arcane flow flopt

About, she knew to dig there – then would spout
That liquor sweet of life. He stuck his snout
Into the spring and deeply drank. She roll’d
Her eyes and dug her own spring – in this drought,

She had to find all that she could. She’d scold
Him for his greed, but then she had that old
Urge to drink as well. He stuck his head up
And askt her, “How do you find these untold

Rests? Nothing catches my eye.” Like a pup,
He then return’d to th’ water. To gallop
That distance took a lot of force from him –
But just as she kept on, he’d not let up,

It seem’d. Again he wan’d – the flow grew slim
From his relentless lapping; from the brim
No water anymore would come. Forsooth,
He had his fill at least – he felt his vim

Return to him. The water gave him couth –
He felt like he was back again in youth.
The things that he could do! He’d not be beat
By older age again! “To tell the truth,

Perhaps we do need water in this heat.”
“I thought so.” Luna laught. “Else we would meet
Our ends too soon. That shall not pass – not when
Equestria waits, where water is replete

And other ponies, much more friendly.” “Then
Let’s keep on moving – who knows where a den
May be, where yet another clue could point
Us in the right direction.” “O amen,”

She said, “I wonder if we could appoint
Some further help on our quest. Thus far, joint
Work yields nought, not when others won’t assist –
Or perhaps not deserve us to anoint

Wi’ th’ fruits of our own labors. We insist
At least on some repentance – yet consist
Of just us two so far.” “Shall we take leave
Just yet? A further hint may yet exist

Beyond that hill there.” “O, do you believe
So?” “Look where I point.” She would disbelieve
His gesture, yet there was a darken’d hill –
But what’d paint it so? What would that achieve?

And if they go there, would it be for nil
Like all the others? Its dark’d give no chill
On the climb up there – th’ sun would roast them dry
Before they would arrive. Her magic skill

Of moving there at once may not apply
O’er such a distance. Regardless how nigh
They both may come, that hill would burn their frogs
Before she’d cast a suitable spell. “Why

Hesitate you?” askt he. “These dialogues
Do not distract you, nor the wind befogs
Your foresight, do they now?” “They don’t,” she said.
“Now come, I shall not wait a’ymore.” Like dogs,

They pusht on forward, valor in their head.
Behind, he saw the thing that they’d both dread –
A sandstorm, freshly brew’d. They hurried on;
Away from danger they both quickly fled.

That hill of blacken’d sand would seem a lawn
Compar’d to th’ turmoil of the storm anon.
More quickly than before, they ran away
And to the new prize, lest it soon be gone.

Ahead of them was constant light of day;
Behind, the thing that made the daylight stray.
As hot as th’ sun was, they would both prefer
To see that far ahead instead of gray

Mixt up i’ th’ air to make chaotic blur.
But Fortune smil’d upon them, as it were,
And that storm did not go beyond the grove
Where once they stopt. They slow’d their pace after

They saw th’ effects o’ th’ hill. At times they strove
For something to quell dangers whilst they rove
The land – they never thought to use the land
Itself! The hill they found had specks of mauve,

They soon saw, and what they thought to be sand
Was not – instead, it lookt like sheddings, and
’Twas not hard to find what being would make these –
“A changeling,” Luna said. “I never plann’d

To see some here. Their stories bring no glees.”
“How so?” He askt. “Their flying sounds like bees,
Hard to mistake yet; they normally talk
In voices shrill that would make you blood freeze.

I do say ‘normally,’ because they’ll shock
You with their changing magic – from a rock
To bear to pony, nothing’s out their reach.
They hide well in plain sight; they talk and walk

Much like the things they imitate. And each
One feasts on love from ponies. I beseech,
Do not let them near you within your home!”
The baker askt, “So why do you not teach

Us ponies of this threat? Those things may roam
Our streets and seem like us. Not e’en the chrome
Of moon may bare their true form to our eyes –
Pray tell, are they e’en found within a tome?”

“Soft,” Luna said, “for if you all realize
That they exist, then soon would spread the lies,
And then the hunt for changelings. I’ve seen those
Who were true ponies, yet they tore their ‘guise’

Away from them to find nought. The pain grows
As they inquire even more; painful throes
Wract through their nerves, which oft became a kill.
– And were there any changelings? Noöne knows!

This, more than anything else, is quite the real
Cause why I do withhold their existence. Will
You change your ways, pursue them with just cause?
I doubt this ever would occur.” The hill

Awaited both of them. A step, a pause,
And Luna found that it was cool. It was
True relief for her; they’d have trouble none
To cross this patch and climb to where it draws

His sight. “Come forth then, let your will be done.
You’ve bought us this far, so don’t let our run
Be all for nought.” Honeycomb then, did set
Upon the darken’d ground, and found the sun

Had shone no heat upon it. He felt no sweat
Upon his brow; no reason, then, to fret
Of burning himself on the sand! He crost
As quickly as before, and did not let

Himself slow down – and soon enough, he lost
The lunar-princess in the dust. The cost
Of teleporting all that way, she found,
Was more than she could bear – she would exhaust

Her mana in that blink, and sans a sound
Belief to justify. Besides, the ground
Was perfectly fine, so she made her way
Uphill, behind the baker, who around

That time had made it to the top. A ray
Of sunlight toucht upon the ground; a stray
Gust of wind blew in front of them; the two
Then lookt for something that would soon display

A changeling. “What thing might stick out to you?”
She askt him. “That stone there – in the right view,
It should be dull.” A flash, and there she laid.
Her back was black as night; her belly blue,

As were her eyes; her legs were hallow’d, splaid
Along her sides. She weakly got up, staid
Upright, then fell to th’ ground. “I would not stoop
Down to her field,” warn’d Luna. “You? Afraid

Of something quite so hideous?” “A group
Is far more dangerous; a single troupe
Could infiltrate and then replace a town
Before they knew.” “She’s given up her dupe,”

Said he – which only made her further frown.
“Which does not mean the others will let down
The same themselv’s. We must take caution here
If we’re t’ approach – lest we both soon may drown

I’ th’ swarm that forms from an impending fear.”
The changeling panicked as they drew near,
And sought a way to hide from them – but no,
They’d not so easily be fool’d. “I hear

That changelings like that are not keen to show
Their ruse so soon,” he said. “What do you know
Of this?” “I would not be stunn’d,” she replied.
“A changeling’s fate is seal’d if one should blow

The cover. Even if again one tried,
It would not be quite th’ same. It’s why she’ll hide
Where’er she can now, since her guise is dim.
But nay, it’s not that she preserv’s her pride –

He thinks her coming fate has now turn’d grim.”
“If desperation’s so, then on a whim
Why did she show?” “I think it may be due
To magic limited – her stock grew slim,

And she no longer could maintain her view.
Observe his stance – she thinks she now is through,
But we’ll show her otherwise. Come along;
I’ll pull you out if danger should ensue.”

The baker told himself, “I must be strong
For my son, who awaits me still for long.
A changeling’s nary threat right now to me,
So there’s no fright – I pray I am not wrong!”

But Luna heard all that, and said, “But we
Are braver than you think – we will not flee
From dangers you imagine. – There she is still!”
She pointed with a hoof – and he could see

That that poor changeling did not send a chill
Along his spine, as it before had. “’Twill
Be fine for us,” conceded he at last.
’Twould be impossible for her to kill

Us both.” He still said nought to him – his past
Fears still kept him quiet. But she said, “Avast,
You who approach me. Tell me your purpose,
And I may spare and help, or stop you fast

Within your tracks.” “You should address both us
As Princess and as baker too – no fuss!
“I know no princess here, you pretender.”
“I’m genuine as they would come – and plus,

I’ve conquer’d dangers like you, as it were.
I’ll vanish us into a sandy blur
If you choose t’ attack us. We offer peace,
But know that peace can be revoked on th’ spur

O’ th’ moment. Do not test us, Changeling – cease
Your words; I know you cannot fight.” “Release
Me from your grip of sight at least – if not,
I’ll not regain my strength and vim.” “The grease

Of your words shall not work here. You cannot
Escape us now.” “So what plan you? What wrought
You such intent?” Honeycomb said, “But sit
And stay a while. My Liege is quite well-taught

O’ th’ nature of changelings, I’ll admit,
But she would not allow this fact to split
Us three apart.” The changeling spoke again:
“I still know not your purpose here – to wit,

Why you would spot and call me out. The pain
Of truer form is agony; to feign
A form that you desire more would bring
Relief as such.” “Our purpose here is plain,”

The princess said. “We seek a path, a thing,
T’ return t’ Equestria.” “A, and by aiding
You both on that, I would secure the same,
Correct?” “We shall soon see – I will not sing

Salvation for you just yet.” “What is this game
You play, then? And how do I win?” “My aim,
For me, is t’ hear how you came to this place.
Hold nothing back; you must have nary shame.”

The changeling laught – a weak laugh, ’fore her face
Contorted in a cough. “You two would grace
Me with your presence, tramp’ling on my lull
And solitude, for only me to trace

My life before? Your speech does pierce my skull,
But I must warn you, it amounts to null
What I might tell.” “We’ve heard the same before
We’ve met – their tales prove never to be dull,

So do not fear of being such a bore
Yourself. We truly want to hear some more.”
“At your insistence, baker – hear me out.”
She clear’d her throat. “I once stept through that door

Which led to th’ land of ponies. Without a doubt,
I knew I’d not be welcome here – a shout,
And I’d be trampl’d ’fore I pled my grief.
You see, I was exil’d fro’ th’ hive, about

Three years before, and I sought relief
From my starvation. It had felt so brief
Since I was cast away, without the love
That changelings feast upon. I was a thief

For longest time, to keep myself above
The grave, and only just. Y’ extend th’ olive
Branch, but you were the first – for nopony
Would dare to shelter, safeguard, someone of

The hive. ‘Well, you’re a monster, can’t you see?
Go lie with someone else now! – Run and flee
From my wrath, for I truly would not spare
A changeling like you! Go, away from me!’

I’ll understand not why they all would care
How I would feed from their love – I’d not dare
To drain them dry, unlike my Queen of old.
But they would not hear my words; they’d just glare

Until I set away from their homes. Such a cold
Form of their hospitality; so bold
They were to think them right to do such act.
I’ve sought out other changelings – I’ve been told

That they too were left to their fates. A pact
Between them made let ponies just exact
Their wrath upon them all at once. I must
Be by myself, until I find in fact

Refuge at last. I soon came on a trust –
I’d roam a mage of travel, though my rust
Of magic kept me from fame and success.
– Which was just as well; I’d not need the lust

That came with notoriety – unless
That was the thing I’ve always wanted. Yes!
I realize that in hindsight clear and true.
In any case, I soon found, I confess

A lover of potential by my view.
Alas, he would not see my offers through.
He would insist that he was married
To someone else – but that would not construe

Surrender, not so soon for me. Instead,
I doubl’d down on my aim – in his head
I’m sure he thought me mad, but all the same
I knew that he’d be mine. As my ‘love’ spread

Across his village, others soon became
Aware of my existence and my aim.
Among the lot was his apparent wife –
Who, nat’rally, did take offense and shame.

So after long, I came within her strife –
I’m simply grateful that she had no knife
Or otherwise I’d be left there to die.
No prey of mine was ever worth my life.”

“Now wait a moment,” said the baker, “why
Do you sound so familiar?” A sigh,
And she confest, “I think that one was you.
Your building stone, a thatched roof on high,

And gaily-color’d decor in my view.”
“O yes, that is my shop!” he cried. “And true,
You must have been that one annoying mage.”
“Indeed,” the changeling said. “You clearly knew

My voice too well. I deeply rue your rage,
But I starv’d, and your goods could not assuage
My ill. You knew me ’fore as Arcane Tome,
But my true name is Sark’e. Nary stage

Would welcome me at all, so I would roam
On stony land or soft-dissolving loam
To show the ponies what I can perform
Before their eyes. I could not move the chrome

O’ th’ moon, unlike you, but I’d change my form
To be like her – ” she pointed thus. “The norm
For changeling-magic is deception cold –
Be I alone, or in a massive swarm.

But I was exil’d – even as I told
The ponies this, they’d not believe their hold
Upon me had been shatter’d long before.
It matter’d not if I were paid in gold

Or fully ridicul’d and shown the door,
Th’ result was still the same – I could not score
The love of others. As time moved on,
I found the magic trickery a chore,

One I could not stand for much longer. Gone
Was my incentive, so one early dawn
I gave the practice up, went to th’ city
Of crystal ponies, and was shoct anon!

For this was changeling haven, so to see –
The love abounded, flowing widely, free
For me to take. I found myself in health
Restor’d, so then I had no cause to flee.

My false appearance gave me greater stealth
As I walkt through the streets. No larger wealth
Could e’er exist, not in the hives, nor in
Equestria. Then I met him, in poor health

But quite resplendent in their love. He’d been
In pain for quite some time, and would begin
To shuffle off soon into that hereaft.
He married some time ago. I’d win

All th’ same, if you taught anything.” He laught,
But then chokt on the sand in wayward draft.
“In any case, to my surprise so great,
She would soon leave him. I senst his love waft

Through th’ air, his unrequited love. Too late
’Twould be to save their bind, but I’d just wait
Until she left – and whilst she kept outside,
I’d enter, and would help him ease the weight

Of his affliction. I took him in stride,
And never once left his bedridden side
Until she would return. And in those hours
When she would rule the roost, I’d run and hide

In places yet unseen – amid flowers
I’ th’ garden, or aloft in the towers
O’ th’ square. A week of this, and soon she left
Him for good – I told him the time was ours

To do as we would please. He was bereft
Of love, for once, so I had t’ change with deft
Into his wife. He soon began t’ regain
His health, but then I notic’d quite the cleft

On his right side, along a bloody stain.
I askt him, ‘How did this come? Did you strain
Yourself too hard one day?’ He told me ‘Nay –
Although she said it was all in my brain,

I once was stabb’d there, in the light of day,
But out of sight of others. I would pray
For my relief, but she would give me none –
“The wound has heal’d,” she told me so, “don’t stay

In bed for such long time.”’ I lookt i’ th’ sun
To get a better view. ‘You’d soon be done
If I’d not interven’d. I wish you well –
But first, I should give my healing a run.’

I cast a life-rift, let my magic dwell
Upon his aging wound, until my spell
Would close it up, and sev’ral others ills
Were solv’d as well. ‘Why, I can’t even tell

That that wound ever happened. Your skills
As healer do not disappoint – it fills
Me with renewed hope. My life as debt
I swear to you.” How perfect! ’Fore my trills

Would give away my form, or I’d forget
Which look I must assume in public yet,
I took her place as his wife. She’d return
Not once again, to fortune mine – no threat

Of giving me away I could discern
Once that had past. I still kept taciturn
Around the house, so as not to disturb
The neighbors. Ev’ry night, as I would earn

The rest and prize, I’d feast on his superb
Love. I was careful quite not to perturb
His sleep. For sev’ral years I kept the ruse –
His love was cultivated like an herb,

So delicate and sweet, I’d not refuse
Another helping when I could – t’ reduce
The odds of him deducing my purpose,
Of course – I for one was above abuse

(Though this had caus’d my banishment). So thus,
I had to limit what I’d take from us.
And in the interim, I’d thought I’d found
A hive of mine own. Was it worth the fuss?

Well, I say yes – beneath the crystal ground,
’Twas hard to dig, but it was very sound.
With love abound in stores, I would gestate
A newer generation all around

The cavern I had made. At any rate,
I’d soon enough, but their combined weight
Would cause the ground to shift, and soon my plan
Was found out all too soon. It was too late

To keep my guise alive for them. I ran –
But not before I took him, for my clan
Would not survive without the other gone.
We hurried away, for about the span

O’ another week – once just another pawn,
But now a queen in her own right. Noöne
Could think that I could do it, yet I did –
Or truly tried, at least – I’ve readied spawn

F’ a conquest, but to my dismay, my bid
Was foil’d before it could begin. They rid
Of my newlaid brood, burnt them each and all,
Left not a trace. They’d soon enough forbid

My and his own return to th’ Crystal Hall,
Which stranded us amid a winter squall –
(I knew then why, in summer, we lay brood).
We soon would come upon a changeling-thrall

Who heard the news of crystal’s endless food
For me and all of them. I broke their mood
Informing them that this was not to be –
I’d been discover’d, rooted out, and shoo’d

Away from their home. This lot would soon see
That I be disciplin’d for my deeds. Three
Would carry me back to their home-hive, where
I was put to work in their hatchery –

A proud spy, now reduc’d to larval care!
You may now understand my bitter air,
If I still had one. One day, illness came,
And as the code said in this foreign lair,

I was suspected first of evil aim.
I pled my case, to no avail – their shame
For me was palpable; they’d not allow
To hear what I would say to shift the blame

To elsewhere in the hive. Despite my vow
To their cause, none of them could e’er see how
I could bring in the sickness to the hive
When I have never left it anyhow!

That left me little choice but leave – alive,
At least, but pray tell me, how little drive
Had I to keep on running? My love was
Taken from me as soon as we’d arrive,

So I could not bring him with me. Their laws
Were strict, despite their conspicuous flaws.
In any case, I was again alone,
In unknown and cruel land, which e’en now gnaws

I’ th’ back of my mind – changeling spy, turn’d drone,
Turn’d nomad once again. If I had known
My life would be insane like such, I’d turn
And leave the hive at once. As fate had shown

To me so many times, I’d have to earn
A better end for just myself – return
Was not an option anymore, not when
I’ve done so much deception, all to earn

The ire of my kind, notably my den.
After a long time, I stopped in a fen,
One damp still from the springtime rain.
I wonder’d still if I’d survive – and then

My final detriment: I saw my bane,
The bane of any changeling – ’twas insane!
A cockatrice had corner’d me, its stare
To petrify me where I stood. The pain

Of stillness was bad, but that stony glare
Would also mean we changelings could not dare
To shift our shape, as you know we are wont
To do – which meant us stuck in naked air

As our true selv’s. This nightmare would yet haunt
Me, even now, because this land would flaunt
The danger. I hid wherever I could,
Which always workt, but left me very gaunt

As I had nary access to that good
Sustenance call’d love. Changelings never stood
Its absence for too long – ’twas why we sought
To infiltrate the pony’s land – you would

Do th’ same, if you were I. You’ve seen the rot –
Those patches of my chitin you would trot
O’er to get here now litter this hillside.
Each piece that falls off me protects me not

Again.” “So I see,” Luna said. She sigh’d.
“Without our love, you cannot live. Inside
Yourself, you cannot make your own. How sad!
Our love is easy to sustain – you’ve tried

To steal that much away from us.” “Be glad
You’re terrible at this your task. So bad
You were, to gain it from me, back when you
Met me in my town,” said the baker. “Had

You been more subtle, you would soon accrue
Enough love for yourself to live a true
Long life. But nay! you had t’ annoy old me.
Look where that got you. If I knew your true

Identity – ” “’Twould be enough, I see,”
Said Luna. “We will listen to your plea,
And see if you are worthy of salvation.
If true, then you can well make our two three,

And see our way out with us – when we’re done,
We would help assimilate you as one
Of us. If false, if you should still deceive
Our trust and notion, we’ll show mercy none;

We’ll leave you here to suffer as you grieve
Your fortunes of long past. All you’d achieve
In such a case is our disdain, which will
Not work well for you, if you could believe.

– Do you accept?” “I do!” she said – a shrill
Voice piercing th’ air, at her excitement still.
“Though I must ask,” she added. “If I may,
With your permission, I shall use my skill

At shifting shape to demonstrate.” “I’d say
That much is within reason,” she said. “Pray
You do not tread too far – for we will know
If you would shift to lie, and then – ” “Okay!

I fully understand!” she said. “I’ll show
You what I mean. I’ll shift now rather slow;
You’ll presently see what I do.” In flash
Of fiery green, she would emerge as though

Th’ entire time she was another. Ash
Would litter th’ ground, beneath her. “O, my stash
Of magic has return’d.” “Thank me for that,”
Said Luna. “I’ll ensure that you don’t crash.”