//------------------------------//
// Book of Surfeit, Canto 1 
// Story: Fallen-Song 
// by Chicago Ted 
//------------------------------//

“Was that your sister?” askt he. “What a sight
To see, if this be true!” But th’ one of night
Would say but nought, but fixt instead her eyes
Upon the yonder mountain-peak. Her fight

Was over not, but started, she’d realize,
And sure as th’ sun would shine high in the skies,
She’d see this task full through, and baker too –
No matter what, she’d seek a compromise

If what her sister said to her was true:
The promist path could only take one through.
She’d truly hate to break the baker’s heart,
But knew as well that, if indeed she knew

A second way, she would to her impart.
But no such word would come – she’d not get smart
And try a thing that’d seal them both within
This desolation. Magic is an art,

But some quandaries one can never win.
“My Liege,” the baker said, “what shall you spin
Together next? What tale fantastic shall
Enamor both of us?” Where to begin?

She thought. If only I could well recall
A thing to tide him over. Not at all;
I shan’t resort to such a bitter tale
Of boredom and of tedium. “Our fall

Must have left me without my thoughts. I fail
To conjure to you something worth the wail.
I must keep silent, for I’ve nought to say.”
“My Liege, still, whilst we go a’ th’ pace o’ th’ snail,

And whilst the sun shines on eternal day,
Not a thing you’d say brings me boredom. – Nay,
The things you’ve told indeed were fantastic,
So tell me some at all! We’re not halfway

To where we ought to go, and we’re not quick
T’ arrive there either.” Sudden winds would kick
The sand into their faces, forcing them
To tighten up. “O how I grow so sick

Of this clime. Tell me, does such dryness stem
From other places in our home?” She’d hem
And haw o’er th’ answer, ’fore she fin’lly said
“I’ve never seen a land with such mayhem.

’Tis foreign to me and Equestria.” Said
The baker, “How events like these have led
From Shade’s Corruption to this sandy waste
Is well beyond me, but I would not shed

A bead of sweat to see how we’ve displac’d.”
“And yet,” spake Luna, “I know one misplac’d
Pony who sought me in my nightly court.
Perhaps you’d like to hear still?” “With all haste!”

She went with this: “One lonely night, a sort
Of unknown law-mare came to me, t’ report
And too defend another. I knew well
What she intended; I saw them in court

At least once per month, whene’er they would tell
That I could see them anytime, to quell
Their grievances. Well, anyway, this mare
Was honest – to a fault. Her case’s knell

Came when she least foresaw it. Sans a care
She let slip that her client would not spare
Remorse. Why, I would side with sentiment
Unlike, and then with such a haughty air

Like hers, it only hurt her argument.
I breath’d my words to her: if he meant
The harm that he did, then he would be cast
T’ his end, so he’d not harm – but in th’ event

That he’d regret, and truly so, the last
Thing I would want to do is let him past
Through th’ pend of Styx. Instead, I sent him out
And spake directly to the mare. Steadfast

Was her will; resolute was she. No doubt
She had prepar’d for this eventual bout
Of sudden questioning intense from me.
I opened, ‘So, what’s this all about?

What did y’ intend to do? To set him free?
If this be so, then you have fail’d. If we
Are to reach an agreement, pray tell, why
Would you not withhold such a thing, to see

Your argument to fail at once?’ I’d spy
A gleam of madness deep within her eye.
She said, ‘O Princess Mine, I had have hope
That you’d accept my honest story, buy

What truths I’d offer, set him free. But nope,
I reckon you would not go down that slope.
I told you ev’rything you ought to know.’
‘And that,’ I told, ‘is where you have to cope

Wi’ th’ facts: at times, ’tis best if you’d not show
Your cards all at once; almost ’tis as though
You play a hoof. You have done that before;
To lay gold at stake for a good deal – no?’

‘But honest truth,’ she said, ‘I do adore;
I cannot find how one would e’er implore
To hide a fact fro’ th’ world. I wonder how
You could think ever saying any more

Than just the facts – ’ ’Twas far as I’d allow.
‘Enough!’ I said. ‘I order, leave me now.
You’ve done less for him than he could alone;
’Tis quite the feat, reneging on your vow –

In such a manner, too! How could you hone
Such adverse arts and skills? – This thought the throne
Shall ponder by itself; you are to leave
At once, before I summon guards.’ A moan

Of pure frustration, as if she’d believe
Not what I’ve just told her, and she would heave
Herself out the court halls. I later took
Some pity on her client, grant reprieve

For what he did – which, as it turn’d out, shook
Me deeply. He was a victim, mistook
For someone else. Well, how could he regret
What he did not? A tale for the lawbooks,

No doubt – I told him as such, then I let
Him walk free into my night. A’ th’ onset
Of day, and longer since, I’ve ponder’d deep
What would become of that mare, of that threat.”

She sigh’d, and chuckl’d to herself. “In sleep
I still seek her, but likely she’s i’ th’ deep,
Where I can never reach her anymore.”
She shook her head. “Her habits would beget

Her fate in coming time.” “I do implore,”
He askt, “what if we find her on this shore?”
She laught. “That would be shocking just to see
Her here. I wonder what she’d have in store

For us.” And other words would not fly free
From either mouth, as both would wander. Ye,
Though much could be told, neither of them spoke
To fill the silent void with vocal glee.

A gentle wind would stir the sand, to soak
E’en more into their furs, which would invoke
Some irritation from the princess. “Bah!”
She shook herself, to lose it. “What a joke

This land must be.” “And yet, its magic law
Does well to keep us rooted. Why, you saw
What it has done to six more – so I ask,
How much respect is that worth? – Et voilà,

You have no answer.” “Focus on our task,”
She shot back. “Let my silence be no mask
For my obtuseness. Hold on!” Up a limb
Went, stopping him from going forth. They’d bask

In blazing heat and blinding light – for him,
It felt like all time in an hour. A slim
Hoof pointed down, and then he saw what made
Her stop, along with him. Here was the rim

On th’ other side o’ th’ hill, and if he paid
Attention, he could note that this sand swaid
I’ th’ blowing wind. “Perhaps you’d like to glide
Down this hill?” Luna offer’d. He’d be staid

Not from this jollity – for first he’d ride
Down this slope, with her trailing at a stride
To match him just so. O indeed, what fun!
Th’ opposing wind forc’d both of them to hide

Their eyes from the oncoming sand. Their run
Soon reacht them at the base of the hill. Done
With gentle gliding, both of them stood tall
And took in their surroundings. This land’s sun

Would show a gentle glimmer. “Let’s not fall
For that particular trap,” Luna’d call.
“For we both know what’d happen if we did.”
“And each time,” said the baker, “we would crawl

Out from it just fine.” “Which does not make rid
O’ th’ danger,” Luna argu’d. “If we bid
Free from this harmony-forsaken place,
Then finding newer leads I must forbid.

Lest the so-call’d “friends” would decide to chase
Us to the goal. I hear them now: “Your Grace!
You must bring me; I know a safer way
To th’ top! But leave him here – his slower pace

Would drag you back, which would cause you delay
And possible loss. By my sister’s day,
Would you believe such drivel if they told
You to leave me here on my own?” “O, nay!

I’d never, not for any prize!” She roll’d
Her eyes at his theatrics, yet she’d hold
Her sanity – at least she could place trust
In him. “I’ve heard each vow; they’re all as old

As I have liv’d.” The baker seem’d nonplust –
And then his realization crost his dust-
Cak’d visage. “Naturally. Let us not wait
For trouble to find us alone – we must

Keep going, to that peak!” That shining bait
Would get no bite today, at any rate.
They started once more on their journey’s path,
Yet Luna wonder’d – what would be their fate

If it they’d not ignore – what’d be the wrath
They’d face? Another windy, sandy bath?
She shook her head – these fears’d not influence
At all, as long as she stuck to the path.

And yet, to th’ baker, that sheen’s brilliance
Would only draw his eyes. Though his silence
Told Luna of his will, his eyes did not,
And soon she’d be aware of this. “At once,

Tell me if that sheen you saw is still sought,”
She would command. His attention was fraught
With something else, which answer’d her quite well.
She bloct him with a hoof; the baker caught

A glare from Princess Luna, ’fore he fell
Into the sand. “There was no need to yell,”
He stammer’d out. “I could hear you just fine.”
But Luna was not yet convinc’d. “Pray tell,

What did I tell you just now?” “That no fine
Light-glimmers should sway me, nor misalign
My trail.” Not quite precisely what I said,
But it will have to do. “The error’s mine,

I see that now; I was not clear i’ th’ head.”
But Luna sigh’d. “Perhaps if such a shred
Of curiosity cannot be thrown
Aside, we will see to our path ahead

Another time.” They both trudg’d on – alone
They’d soon be lost here, but this land has shown
That staying well together does them good.
A squint through brightness, and they saw a stone

House, standing by itself. The rotting wood
That made the roof and door, as they saw, could
Break in at any moment. And that sheen
That they both saw came from where th’ window stood.

’Twas this place, or uncharted land. Between
These choices two, they chose familiar scene.
The baker knoct upon the fragile door,
With utmost care, so it’d be left pristine.

A single mare would answer that, before
Too long. Her jaw would hang down to the floor
When she saw Princess Luna standing here.
“By skies above!” she cried. “Upon this shore

I’ve found the one who’s ruined my career!”
This sent her reeling back – a wicked sneer
Had plaid across her face. “O finally,
We meet again, O Princess Mine – a mere

Twelve years since you had once expelled me
From court. I say, you’ve made a mockery
Of me!” It seem’d she started telling her
Tale, all unbidden. “Hey! Before y’ agree

To speaking to us yet another slur,
I should ask you who you are.” “As it were,
I’m Tipt Scale – Law-Mare, at least, long ago.
Shall that remark suffice as your answer?”

“For now, it would,” the baker said. “Although
How would you recognize the Princess so?”
“Perhaps I must confess to you,” she said.
“When I said I’d be shoct if she would show

In this land, I well meant it. In my head,
Her visage is burnt. Only when I’m dead
Would I forget that Tipt Scale. ’Tis the same
Mare I had chastis’d in the stallion’s stead.”

“Indeed, O Princess Mine, you are to blame
For my descent to failure!” she’d exclaim.
“Your proclamation was made without fight,
And you still see yourself as right? – For shame!”

The baker shook his head – of course she might
Remember what she did, resent that night
That Luna show’d the error in her plan.
Small wonder, then, she chastise her on sight.

“She’s honest, yes, which is much better than
The lies of Glister,” said she. “’Cross the span
Of this land, now at last we meet a one
Who follows Harmony as best one can.”

“In any trial,” said the baker, “none
Is more important than to hear words spun
By both sides. Tipt Scale, will you kindly tell
Of what had happened, what you have done?”

“How honor’d I must be,” she said. “I fell
From grace, without a word. I’m just a shell
Of my past self. And now, I see, at last
I can speak what I know!” “No need to yell,”

He said. “We hear you all the same; your past
Can come to light now.” “My tale will contrast
With Luna’s testimony perfectly.
You’ll soon see who speaks the truth.” “Not so fast,”

Said Luna. “I know you can speak it free,
But do you know when not to speak it me?”
“We’ll soon find out.” The law-mare clear’d her throat,
And started off, “Even now, I still see

That torch-lit palace you call home. I’d note
A lack of guards that night, but never gloat
The fact. Within my tow, that stallion nam’d
One Falling-Night, who stood accus’d, as wrote,

Of promising clear nights – and others blam’d
Him for delivering nought as he aim’d
To do. But he made no such mighty vow,
That that was your purpose – or so he claim’d.

Regardless, as is my job, I’d allow
Him to appear within your court, endow
Him with your words, instead of your sister’s –
Perhaps his logic was but pathos. How

Could we win otherwise? The stars were blurs
That night – was that your doing? – which angers
The ones who were yet still accusing him. 
I sought you e’er thoroughly for answers,

Whilst spilling forth the facts, however slim
Their relevance may be. My mother’s hymn,
When I was growing up, was that a lie
Was not acceptable, e’en on a whim

I’d benefit from speaking not.” A sigh,
And Luna saw where she went wrong. “How sly
I could have been, but nay, my habits old
Had staid my hooves. I could never shy

Away from truth, no matter what’d unfold
If I said otherwise. The quiet is gold,
But I’d deprive myself too of that gift.
I do recall a time my mother’d scold

Me for a thing I never did – a rift
Betwixt us open’d up which caus’d a shift – ”
“You’re wand’ring,” Luna said. “Another tale
You start to tell. ’Tis nice, but please don’t drift

Away fro’ th’ matter.” “Yes, of course – it’d pale
In a comparison, no doubt. I’d quail – ”
A sterner look, and Tipt Scale then return’d
To her tale. “Anyway, I could not fail

Him in his case. And yet, I later learn’d
That he show’d no regret for what he earn’d
As a con-pony. I could not keep this
A secret, not where my task is concern’d.

I let that fatal fact slip past – the bliss
Of speaking right came over me, t’ dismiss
My fears. But they came back in greater force,
When you spake right to me. I was remiss,

Apparently, when I spoke thus. Of course,
I could not see your logic, when so coarse
Your speaking was to me. As Princess Mine,
You’d ev’ry right, but I was not a horse

To be so taken lightly.” “O you whine
E’en now, for speaking much without a sign
Of thought,” said Luna. “But here’s some advice
You needed long before: if you’d resign

Before you took this case, you’d leave a nice
Legacy right behind. Shall I say it twice?
I hope you understand what I’ve told you.”
The law-mare shook with anger, as if ice

Had crept along her spine. “You take the view
That truth alone prevails. Have you a clue
That maybe that works not all times? Perhaps
You ought t’ ignore your mother, see right through

Her shortsightedness, and decide sans lapse
In judgment how t’ proceed.” “Your speaking slap
Me ’cross the face – ” “As it ought, O law-mare.
Did you not heed what I had said? What scraps

Of wisdom do you know?” “I did not care
For what you said, and if I rightly dare,
I would accuse you of misconduct.” “What!”
“Indeed, My Liege, such accusation’s rare,

But rightly wrought e’en so. If you would shut
Your mouth and listen, you would see merit
In purest honesty – to be so blunt –
That nothing leav’s room for immediate – ”

“Which does not change the fact that your client
Would have far’d better if you were absent
From court that night!” she thunder’d. The walls shook
With her voice, threatening to break th’ ancient

Hut. Then again the baker spoke up. “Look –
It seems perhaps you, Tipt Scale, well mistook
The Princess’s intent with malice, so
You took her words as disapproval.” “Took

Her words as – I would never!” What a blow
To her façade! “I realize long ago
I may have err’d, but what else could I do
When Princess Luna disapprov’d?” “You know

I stand before you, yes?” The law-mare knew
She had no further answer for her view
To uphold. Thus, she sigh’d, and spoke again.
“I only speak the truth, but e’en so, you

Discourage me from doing so. This pain
Has blinded me for so long; to contain
My rage consum’d my life and time, and thus
I’m left without the things I need t’ sustain

My mission.” “Honesty is quite the plus,
But only in some moderation. Fuss
O’er nought; if only you had seen the wrong
In your words and acts, you’d not be anxious

Right now.” A crimson hue had crept along
The law-mare’s cheeks – a flaming heat so strong
Reminded her of her humility:
It seems her mother’s words would not belong

In setting where it benefited she
To hold the truth back from her. So angry
She was at herself now; she could have won
If she had kept her mouth shut. “I soon will see

You leave,” she told the princess, “but I’ve one
Request remaining: if my fault’s not done,
Then I wish to come and amend my loss.”
“I do regret, but that amounts to none;

This tirade you have wrought can never cross
You to Equestria back, for from the doss
We both have come, and cannot bring a third
Along with us – for, I ask, what chaos

Could that cause to our home?” Such harsh word
Was felt by e’en the baker – as she heard,
There was no hope, redemption, left for her.
Despair came o’er her, as her vision blurr’d

From fresh-sprung tears. “So,” said she, “as it were,
I’m stuck here evermore. What an answer
To my sins of before. I now regret
It fully, far too late.” A hoof would stir

To indicate the door. “You cannot get
Much more from me. I’ll never pay my debt
Enough, but solitude is penance right
For me. I would not see this as a threat,

But invitation rather, so you’d fight
Your further way to where both of you might
Want to be.” Then she spoke not e’er again,
And Luna took the cue to leave her sight.

“What oddities we’ve seen, what tales of pain
We’ve heard,” the baker would remark. “Abstain
From further talk,” said Luna. “We shall go
To th’ mountain; pray we never ascertain

Another pony in our sight.” Although
The law-mare was still fresh, he mustn’t show
Reluctance, not so soon again, when last
He did, they ended up in quite a throe

Of pathos. Shaking his head, he would cast
His cloak’s hood off, to show himself the vast
Expanse ahead of them. That mountain-peak
Was so far off, and yet they’ve travel’d fast

Across the rolling hills of sand, to seek
A glimmer slight of hope. No sight so weak
As other glints can stray him from his way
Again, that much he told himself. A week

Before, with Shade’s Corruption, such delay
Would cause him to collapse. Until that day
By chance he met the Princess of the Moon,
He thought he’d never scramble, get away

From symptoms such as those – but now, as soon
As he met her, he felt alive again, in tune
Wi’ th’ world around him. In he deeply breath’d,
And took in fresher air sans sand which strewn

Across the vastness. Luna, seem’d reliev’d
That he had sense, e’en with his head unsheath’d
From his cloak, which expos’d him to the air
Where sunlight brightly shone, and hot sand wreath’d

Around their faces, but he did not care
About this nuisance. As the two would fare
Along this leg of their long-winded quest,
He wonder’d – just who would they meet, whose lair

Would they encounter next? At the behest
O’ th’ princess of the moon, he would not test
Those ponies for their motives, for the lot
Could not accompany them at all – lest

They would claim it for themselv’s, as they ought
To do. Her sister’s words to him had taught
Of doubt, but not despair – a dose of doubt
To see past lies that they might tell. He thought

The worst one was the gryphon – from his snout
His words were empty as his maw, and out
In the air his speech all meant even less.
How lucky they both were, to get a route

From him, one they could well rely – unless
It too was wrong. Still, Glister could impress
Another with his tale fantastic yet,
E’en if it was false. If he had to guess,

The part about the gryphons’ wartime debt
Could not be possible – they would not let
A war break out, if they could well avoid,
And did avoid at ev’ry cost and fret.

Besid’s, he could know not a time deploy’d
The Royal Guard t’ defend. He had enjoy’d
A time of peace within his village quaint;
There was not threat that it would be destroy’d

At all. He too assum’d that she’d acquaint
Herself with peace as well. Without restraint,
It’d be a diff’rent story for them all.
She’d embrace peace, but noöne was a saint

Those days, it seem’d. Within that marble hall
She’d sit, or sister would, to hear the call
Of cyclic day and night to come and go,
And to hear grievances that would appall

A lesser pony than them. “Would you know
Another law-mare like her? Could you show
How crazy it could get?” “You wish to see
What I am put through, ’fore daylight would show

I’ th’ morn?” “Indeed!” the baker said with glee.
“Forsooth, not ev’ry pony can walk free,
Unlike that stallion Tipt Scale tried t’ defend.
Tell me those from the law they could not flee.”

“Perhaps I shall, if only to contend
That not all that I do has such good end.
This tale concerns a pony I once saw
Accus’d of murder – sans way to amend

His crime. He bragged so, to shock and awe.
According to the letter of the law,
I took it as confession, and told him
That he stood on thin ice. His fatal flaw

Came not long after. O, his face grew grim
When he saw chances of his life were slim.
Eventually, I sentenc’d him to die –
’Tis not a thing I hand down on a whim,

Mind you. We strung him up when sun was high,
And there he dangl’d from the top o’ th’ sky.
The dead can never be brought back to life,
But he’ll rest with regret he can’t deny.”

“Amazing,” said Honeycomb. “Not well rife
With fight within him, was there?” “That old strife
To live and not to die could not be found
Within him, nay. Not one bit – E’en his wife

Could not detect the fire that is abound
In all of us.” “As he rots in the ground,
I stand e’er grateful for your services,
E’en if they’re carried out without a sound.”

The princess nodded, but the bays was his,
She felt, but spoke aloud not. This would quiz
Him for a moment, ’fore he turn’d right back
To th’ path ahead. He focused, for his

Salvation laid somewhere before him. Crack!
His lower spine had stiffen’d up, and slack
Had set it firmly in its aching place.
A single twist, and the relief would wrack

The rest of his form. He kept on a pace
So quick yet steady, taking out the space
Betwixt him and the mountain. Before long,
He’d reach it – he just knew it! On that chase –

“Perhaps,” she would interrupt, “you’re not wrong
About perspectives. What would go along
The inside of his mind? I wish I’d look
Before I sentenc’d him – it must belong

To someplace dark and evil, long forsook
By pony-magic. Seeing that once shook
Me to my core; I’d rather not again
Observe or e’en experience what may cook

Within such twisted dreams. But then, his brain
May not be swaid – how could I tell? The pain
Of never knowing burns so hot in me.
O well, what’s done is done; I’ll never gain

The satisfaction of an answer.” “See?
Th’ acceptance of th’ inevitable’s key
T’ tranquility. I can accept a loss
When no way other can present to see.”

“’Tis easy f’ you to say,” she said. “Across
My land and reign, I’ve seen the verdant moss
Of time creep ’round the marble figurines – 
That peat of time will eat away at th’ gloss

Of once was new. I’ve seen the countless scenes
Unfold like this – each time, nopony cleans
Th’ resulting decay, ’til it falls to time
At last. I pray you never have the means

To see those things yourself, to know the rhyme
Of coming ruin you can’t stop. The rime
In memory will set the scenes in stone,
So you will always know them in their prime,

Which only makes the loss you bear alone
That much worse.” “Memory is truly prone
T’ encasing better thoughts, so here is one:
As th’ bodies turn from flesh and fur to bone,

It gives rise to new life. Never done,
Not in finality, but death has spun
The world that we have come to know and love.
Weep not for th’ lost, their struggles’ won,

But cherish th’ precious gifts from on above.”
“That does ease me,” said Luna, “to know of
Those things they leave for us, both big and small,
And here and further, from the peaceful dove

To th’ crops that the earth-ponies harvest, all
Has been descended from that protocol.
It pains us all at first, but later yields
The treasures bountiful for each to haul.

Each second autumn moon, out in the fields
One finds the tireless farmers – one who wields
The scythe, another baskets, t’ separate
The grain from chaff – whilst clouded-o’er sky shields

Them from the coming cold.” “I’d truly hate
To interrupt, O Princess Mine – ” Too late
For further word – another storm of sand
Was baring down on them. “O how I hate

These things to happen!” Luna cried out, and
She pull’d her cloak back o’er her head. The land
Had turn’d to chaos once again; the walk
Slow’d to a crawl, and slower still t’ a stand.

“Can you see in this?” call’d she. What a shock
When no reply came to her! Simple talk
Would never work here; she would greatly need
Her magic – tap in the cerebral lock,

And send her words into his mind – he’d heed
Her words so clearly. Once she did the deed,
She found him bounding over through a gust
Of sand, and stuck by her side, as agreed.

She would assure the both of them the dust
Would settle soon, and pray that this land must
Not cause another storm like this again.
Of course, such musings she could never trust

To come to fruition. She should refrain
From pointless prayers, lest the land abstain
From peace for them and all the others too.
’Twas though the land heard. How could she explain

Another way? The sand had bloct her view
O’ th’ path; she hopt that they’d not go askew
Of their eventual destination, for
What troubles could they happen by? A hue

Of red above show’d th’ sun, and nothing more
Could e’er be seen. She duct her head, before
A wayward stone could strike her in the head.
It mist the baker. She could not ignore

These dangers anymore – she could be dead
Without a further warning. She had pled
Aloud, almost, to no suppos’d avail.
She carefully made her way up ahead,

And watcht with leery eyes, so without fail
They’d dodge such sim’lar dangers. Hail –
Nay, larger stones came flying forth, to prove
The capabilities o’ th’ storm. Her veil

Prov’d ineffective ’gainst. She’d not remove,
However, as it did protect their move
Through sand ablow within the wind – unless
More pressing matters came upon t’ disprove,

Then she would risk her eyes for her head, yes.
But dangers these did not present – no stress
O’er the imagin’d hazards; they’d go on
All th’ same. In his mind, Luna would confess

That she fear’d for her life – though sudden yawn
Would force him to dismiss her claim. Begone!
She thought, though he could clearly hear her yell.
We’ve travel’d who knows how long we’ve been gone,

But we shall nonetheless move forth. To quell
Her lethargy, she let the stone shrapnel
Strike her ’long her body. It forc’d her wake –
It’d help her travel forth, and help her well.