//------------------------------//
// Book of Surfeit, Canto 6 
// Story: Fallen-Song 
// by Chicago Ted 
//------------------------------//

And off and well away they went, their drive
Most unperturb’d. The stream they’d cut; they’d dive
And bob along the surface, as the air
Would carry them against the flow. “Survive

This trial,” said Luna, “and we’ll be right there
Before the day is out!” “What day? It’d care
Not,” said he, “when the sun would always shine.”
“You well know what I meant,” said Luna. “Where

We are right now, we’ll have to realign
Ourselv’s along. The river may be good and fine,
But don’t forget about our final goal.”
He nodded at this, train’d his eyes to dine

His gaze upon the stream ahead. His foal,
He would remember, sought out Luna’s toll
To try to save his life. In doing so,
He thrust them on a trip, he in the role

Of Luna’s guide, as best as he could show.
If only heat and drouth was the sole throe –
He praid for water; here it was in spad’s.
He’d even miss th’ initial winter snow!

He pictur’d back along the task, the trad’s
He made with many others, tales of raids
And love and more he heard, exchang’d f’ a place
To hide away, or a raft, which had aids

Of just the two aboard. At such a pace,
They would arrive before long, but the race
Would show them just how long the river’s stretch
Forsooth was. Even if they had a trace

Of luck, would it be right for them? That’d etch
Within his mind, until he askt, “If we catch
A break, where would it be?” “I cannot tell,”
The princess told him. “If we were to fetch

Such fortune, it would be atop.” “O well,
If you are certain you have not a spell
To speed it up – ” “I do not have that power.
The pegasi can change the weather, dwell

Amid its clouds – but not I at this hour.”
So he’d resolve his sight ahead to scour
The creek for anything that they could use.
So far, besides the skull, his luck grew dour

And minimal. But then, he would refuse
T’ relent to such a fate, when he could choose
To struggle on ’gainst impossible stake.
And Luna would as well – and so its ruse

Would never have effect. And then he spake,
“I see ahead an odd thing! A mistake?”
She ponder’d his words carefully, and then
She lookt up, just in time, to see a lake

Amid the river. Here, perhaps a fen
Existed – who could say? Regardless, when
They found it was most fortunate; she saw
A sandbar blocking them. Ahead, a glen

Would ferry them both, but she knew how raw
A deal that was; they’d stay where water’s law
Would keep them cool. She ponder’d what she ought
To do – and then it hit her mind: “Voilà!”

She said, “I’ll clear the way ahead!” The rot
Upon the craft might not withstand what wrought
The blockage, but she had her magic horn!
She lit it up, and dug away, and sought

An exit for them both. As though a thorn
Had fallen from her side, her power had torn
Through quite the block of wet, unstable sand.
Inside a minute, Luna would adorn

The lake with a fresh water-inlet, and
They could move on again at her command.
The sail was turn’d to th’ wind, and with a gust,
They took to future waters, just as plann’d.

He was amaz’d, yet she was quite nonplust
At such a sight of magic usage – just
Another trick she had to wield, he guest.
She was glad simply that it was not dust

She had to clear away; she thought it best
That she did not have t’ carry, such her rest
Would prove to be moot. Up ahead, they’d see
The river flowed straight, but th’ wind had prest

Against their sail – they’d travel backwards! She
Would furl the cloth, and, as if she would flee
The lake behind them, started kicking fast
Behind the raft. He’d only watch with glee

At such a speed that she swam at. “Avast!”
He call’d – “A field of columns!” To get past
The lot would take no small amount of luck.
He turn’d the sail onto its side, and last

He plac’d himself i’ th’ center. Then, she’d tuck
The raft through spaces tight, and swam amok
The stony columns – what did they provide?
He ponder’d to himself. And then it struck

Him – these were yet another trick, t’ deride
Their efforts on their journey shar’d. He sigh’d –
Why can’t it let them pass sans incident?
It seem’d to stretch forever, never wide

Enough in many places. Her vim spent,
She askt, “Pray, shall you take my place?” “I’ve meant
To help you how I can,” he said, “and so
I’ll do just that.” He slipt his rear half, leant

Against the raft, and when she left the flow,
He’d kick with measur’d care. She’d point to go,
Since he found himself blind amid the stones.
He did regret not t’ her the same to show.

Along the way, he thought he saw some bones –
Another glance said otherwise. The moans
Of wind between the columns sent a shake
Along his spine – he thought of such unknowns

Who may have perisht here by pure mistake.
Before too long, his legs began to ache,
But he saw sunlight glint beyond the place.
“We’re nearly though the stony henge!” she spake.

He’d soon relax himself, and slow’d his pace.
Before long, he past through without a trace
Left on the wood. He climbed back aboard,
Reoriented th’ mast back in its place,

And loost the ropes that held the sail. It roar’d
With wind behind the two, and on they soar’d
With newfound speed. They held on rather tight
As they cut through the water like a sword.

About their luck, the Princess of the Night
Remarkt, “What fortune smiles upon with might!
We’ll see to our shar’d destination soon!”
He praid that she fortold the future right.

And so they went, as smoothly as a tune,
With winds behind their backs, beneath the noon
That’d last forevermore, to places yet
Unknown to them, to hazards that could prune

Them sans a second thought. Why they don’t fret
Was simple – even in th’ face of a threat,
They had each other; that was quite enough
To conquer anything that they had met

Before, and will meet since – no waters rough,
Nor winds amix with sand, nor other stuff
Shall stay their hoov’s along their journey key –
Its harden’d efforts only speak of sough.

’Twas not the first that Luna sailed – she
Remember’d th’ time that she went out to sea
With sister dear, t’ explore beyond the east.
They met the gryphons at their stone; their spree

Would take them to the land of fiery beast –
On their regalia somehow they’d not feast,
E’en though they needed not the ornaments.
But even greedy dragons were the least

Of all her worries on the trip – her sense
Would leave her in a storm; she too grew tense
At weather such as that. Yet they endur’d
I’ th’ end – perhaps it was the doing whence

Of seaponies she saw not. Whale-Road cur’d
Her of her ignorance of them, assur’d
Her of their pure intentions – maybe they
Should be much better known, if they’ve secur’d

The seas for pony sailors not to stray.
Perhaps she’d raise that point, upon the day
She would return, whenever that would come.
Ahead, she saw no danger – not yet, nay;

Another hazard may appear at some
Point in time she could not fortell. The scum
That built up on the edges of the craft
Nigh made her slip and fall – but with a hum

And magic, she would clean from fore to aft.
He did not notice – not at first. “The raft
By now seems tidier,” he fin’lly said.
He glanced, saw the deck scrubb’d clean – and laught

Aloud. “Perhaps it needed such a scrub – I’d dread
To lose you, either way – but look ahead!”
He pointed forward – water fell from high,
Which hinder’d progress. “Now we’ll have to tread

Upon dry land, and leave this here.” A sigh,
And he steer’d th’ craft to shore. She said, “By sky
Above, I won’t let us abandon th’ gift!
She too let it come to the stream-bank – why?

She grabb’d it by the corner; with a lift,
It was aloft. Her stronger wings would shift,
Prepar’d to fly. “You’ll have to find a trail
To th’ top yourself,” she told him. “Do not drift

In wind!” he called out to her. “The sail
May work against you, even now!” ’Twas frail,
This mast, but just a turn protected such
From stronger drafts of wind, and then she’d scale

The waterfall, bit by bit – this was much
Heavier than Honeycomb was – his touch
Might comfort her, t’ ensure he did not fall,
But here, it was a greater weight in clutch.

She checkt behind her, to the ground, and all
She could see was the endless sand. She’d stall
To try to spot her guide – and there was he,
Who found a cliffside path – he seem’d so small!

But then, she knew how high she was, to see
The world as such a tiny scale. Then she
Heard water falling quieter, and found
That she had reacht the top – with newfound glee

She also saw she beat him to this ground.
She set the raft down here, without a sound.
A moment later, there he was – the climb
Had taken longer than she thought. “Around

This place,” he said, “within a shorter time,
We should find shade fro’ th’ mountain. Such a clime
Is dark and cool, even without a stream.”
“I should agree,” said Luna. “See it prime

Cause to return to quest.” And with a gleam
Of hornlight, she would push the craft i’ th’ stream.
She quickly hopt aboard, and grabb’d her guide,
Before the wind took them both as a team.

“We’ll know the place, and with you at my side,
We will succeed!” she vow’d – and yet, inside,
She tender’d ling’ring doubts about the prize,
Old doubts that she meant to forget. – She sigh’d.

This time, he did not mind the noise. “By skies
Above,” he said to her, “I must advise
Some measur’d caution, as we come upon
Our destination.” Luna nodded. “Wise

Of you to mention.” Their attention drawn
Ahead, they tried to see if anyone
Would try to block their progress on the trip.
But nothing could be seen here. With a yawn,

She thought she’d fall asleep at last – a drip
Of water by her ear would wake. She’d whip
Her head up, just in time for them to view
A sight they most desir’d. Her heart would skip –

The mountain loom’d o’er them, the princess blue
And baker gray – no longer was it true
That it was further off – they fin’lly came
Where trav’ling did intend to lead them to.

“We’ll need t’ abandon this soon, for our aim
Lies vertical,” said Luna. “What a shame,”
He said – “I rather lik’d to flow with ease
Along these waters.” “Well, she made no claim

That we need maintain this – ’twas just to please
Us, make the journey easier.” A breeze
So gentle wafted by – a signal clear
For her to run aground. They had to seize

The chance, for up ahead they’d clearly hear
The roar of waters falling. “’Twould appear
’Tis necessary to advance on land,”
He would surmise. “Let’s set off over here.”

The stream grew shallow where he pointed, and
She steer’d in that direction. This wet sand
Would grind against the bottom of the craft,
And hold it fast against the wind. She scann’d

Th’ horizon – not a thing to see, not aft,
Nor fore – and all they had then was that raft.
“In which way should we move?” he would inquire.
“I think up to where we hear th’ roaring draft.”

She lookt around the corner – it’d require
Great effort if she lifted the raft higher.
They’d have to go on hoof, from here on out –
But still, she was grateful for help from prior.

“If you see shelter, tell me – I’ve no doubt
We’ll need it soon,” he said. “I sense a bout
Of sand to mix with wind approaching us.”
“But even so, we should seek out a route

That takes us up the mountain – quite the fuss
For me to take flight, to take both of us
Upon my wings. I’d tire before we’re done!”
She shut her maw, with nothing more t’ discuss.

Besides the stream and cliff, and sand and sun
Of course, they could not find a bastion – none
Existed here, so far as they could tell;
They had nothing for hope, not even one.

“Have you some fortune good?” “I’ve none; we’ve fell
Into a blinder part, it seems – oh well,”
She said. She squinted closely at the cliff
To see if she could spot a path. A spell

Could craft one instantly, but only if
It took just one to th’ top. It was not stiff
Enough for both of them, but e’en with wings,
’Twas quite a long way up. She caught a whiff

Of something musty near. “What sort of things
Might make that odor?” she would ask. “No springs
We’ve found and known smell half as foul as this.”
“We’ll look around here, and see what that brings,”

He told her, adding, “Let’s hope we don’t miss
The obvious.” She’d look high, not t’ dismiss
What could lie beyond them, and he’d look low,
To see if they stept in something. Th’ princess

Did not have luck here, but he did – a slow
Walk would reveal a pit next to the flow,
Perhaps to trap the water someplace here.
Perhaps a pony liv’d here? Who would know?

Without a word, he gestur’d her to near
The place. “So!” she said. “It would appear
That we’re at last in greater luck. We’ll ask
About a path along the cliff, to steer

Us on the proper way.” The sand would bask
Atop a wooden door, which, like a mask,
Disguis’d its true intentions. She would brush
Away the dust, and once she did that task,

She rapt upon the door. She felt a rush
Of nerv’s course through her, then there was the blush
Upon her visage – what if she’d trespass
A force she’d not invite? With careful hush,

He told her, “I don’t think it’d come to pass,
Whatever dangers you conjure, amass.”
“I hope you are correct,” she would return.
Before long, this door open’d up – alas,

No danger would appear – her fears would earn
Her something she’d expect not – a cavern
Beneath, where this one hermit liv’d alone.
His harden’d, weather’d gaze could eas’ly burn

A hole through both their souls. Luna went prone
To get a better look at this unknown
One. “Who are you?” she askt, her voice so light,
Yet his mood darken’d further, much t’ her own

Fright. “I am Hideaway.” – O what a fright
Would deeply chill the Princess of the Night!
“I have to ask, how did you find this place?
I wish for no disturbance, yet you might

Find me and bother, much to your disgrace.”
“We do apologize,” said Luna, “but in case
You’ve not seen such, you are the only soul
We could ask for help here.” “What be your chase?”

He askt in turn. “Not ev’ryone can stroll
Though this desolation without a goal.”
“Indeed,” Honeycomb said. “We ought to climb
The mountain – that one there – and that’s the whole.”

The hermit nodded. “If that be your rhyme,”
He spake, “then I must disappoint: the time
It takes is endless – many’ve tried, to fail
In ev’ry instance. Surely such a clime

Deters the two of you.” “But we’re not frail!
We’ve seen such dangers where you’d hide in veil
Of sand and sun. A mountain scar’s us not.”
“But if you may,” he said, “I have a tale

That could dissuade you from your task.” “’Tis hot
Out here, in any case – this place is fraught
With clime that’d dry a lake immediately.”
The hermit sigh’d, and let them in. “I ought

To keep you out my door, but I can see
A storm upon th’ horizon. – Stay with me,
Then, if for just that time.” “We’re grateful so,”
Said Luna, “for your hospitality.”

The place was barren, nary much to show
In way of furniture – this status quo
Reflected his nomadic living way.
She would not question anything here, though.

Off to the side, she noted where she may
Obtain some water, if she needed. – Nay,
She did not feel within her throat her thirst.
As winds blew, she knew they were here to stay

For quite some time, considering the worst
That happen’d to her in the storm. This curst
Land knew no mercy, that much t’ her was clear.
“I shall begin,” he told the two, “but first,

I ask, how did you come this way? I fear
You two are quite misplac’d – it would appear
That e’en a princess quite like you, to come
This way, does bode ill for your home, my dear.”

“That thought is quite irrelevant, a crumb
To what you vowed to tell to us.” “Some
Are so insistent in this day and age.”
He lied in front of them. “I’ll not be mum

In e’en the slightest detail, but this sage
Must tell you: what I shall speak may enrage
The both of you.” Said she, “We’ve heard far worse
Along our travels, if that can assuage.”

“This tell of the origin of my curse –
At least, I think – I always was averse
To others’ company, and even now, amid
What should be nothing, through what I traverse,

I still find others bothersome. I bid
Farewell to one, t’ encounter more. I did
Whatever I could to dissuade, but no,
They all prov’d ineffective. So I hid

In places myriad, but they would know
Each time where I had gone. This social throe
Had plagued me in the land that I call home;
But e’en in exile, I can never stow

Myself away, from out of sight – I’d roam
This land forever, to seek out, to comb
The sands for safer haven, but in each
Occasion, I’d’ve fail’d. But this bad tome

Is not what you wish t’ hear – so I shall teach
The origin o’ th’ same. This tale shall reach
Back countless years, by my own reckoning.
I once liv’d by myself beside a beach,

And spend my days t’ illuminate the thing,
The shifting tides, the schooners in passing –
But you might think, ‘Why not display your yen
To passers-by?’ ’Tis simple – it would bring

A load of trouble to my way – and then
I’d have to relocate away. Once, when
I did not check my back, a pony came
And saw my work. She found me in my den,

And askt me of my work. I knew her game –
She wanted something more, but nay, her claim
Was that she wanted to display my art
In public. I refus’d, but just the same

She would return the morning next, to start
Negotiations, as if I’d impart
My work for better offers. I would not,
But she’d not hear refusal from my part.

Eventually, her visiting had wrought
Th’ attention of the others, which had brought
More focus onto me, much to my dismay.
It got to th’ point when I had t’ do as ought.

So many priceless works were lost that day,
But that to me was just the price to pay
For solitude. They’d not get even one,
I ascertain’d as such. I mov’d away

In nightfall, so they’d have their nightly fun
Without the realization there were none
T’ obtain from me. And when they came next morn,
I did not leave a trace beneath the sun.

I set up home within the forest, which had borne
A beauty of its own. I would not scorn
The scenery – I chose t’ illuminate
As I had just before. I would adorn

The sapling with the glimmers of the late
Sun setting, enamel creeks in ice, create
The clearings in the summer to be dry.
In time, I grew to love the place, but fate

Had other plans for me. A rainstorm – why? –
Destroy’d the forest pure. I would apply
The changes in my newer paintings, but
The canopy was clear’d enough to spy

Me in my nat’ral studio. My hut
Soon drew a hiking crowd, which wore a rut
Along the forest ground. I’d chase them off,
But th’ damage had been done. So I ask, what

Was I suppost to do?” He stopt to cough,
And reach for th’ spout, and cur’d it with a quaff
Of water. “I would have to run again,”
He follow’d shortly. “I would have to doff

My newfound home – you could imagine pain
Like mine then was unbearable, such bane
A second time should not be underwent.
But it prov’d necessary – do not blame

Me for my action; rather, blame those bent
On interacting with me, when I meant
My solitude.” He sigh’d. “Again I mov’d
T’ another place. I praid their efforts spent,

And for some time it seem’d to work. Remov’d
From forest to the desert, this improv’d
My works substantially. I learn’d the sand
Had mulititudes of colors, which had prov’d

To be so hard to replicate right, and
My dozen first tries came out fruitless. Land
Was not meant to be speckl’d like this, yet
I was a horse possest; I would not stand

For any flaw on canvas to be set.
In time, I thought to reproduce sans fret
My works from on the seaside, with the skill
I had attain’d from painting deserts – wet

That sand was not, and yet th’ idea still
Applied the same. I found a barren hill
And would apply imagination there.
The seas would flow from out my eyes, and spill

Behind it ’cross the bone-dry landscape. Bare
It would be not; the schooners that would fare
Across the way would too sail on the sea
That I’ve conjur’d. I plotted each with care,

And on the hilltop, I could clearly see
The shoreline litter’d with the treasures, free
Fro’ th’ waters that I’ve laid beyond. Before
Too long had past, it was completed. Three

Weeks, in the spite of desert heat – e’en more
And it would be unworkable, a chore
I’d not do willingly – would yield a prize
That I thought futile: newly-conjur’d shore,

Sprung from the drouth, as seen by my own eyes.
I knew such power had no effect – skies
Above, I would not have it other ways –
But in the back of mind, I’d soon realize

That I would have to mobilize – these days
Were lonely, just the way I like, but laze
Would stay my hoov’s, and one day, per my fear,
They found me once again. The same old craze

Would start again; ’twas if they could not hear
That I did not wish for fame. They’d endear
Themselv’s on all the works that I have ‘lost,’
And wisht that I could make again. By sheer

Coincidence, they found what they’d accost
Me for the rest of my life – that I’ve tost
Much lesser pieces did concern them not;
They wanted this one, no matter the cost.

I tried to turn away each offer, but it brought
E’en more, as had before, like I spoke nought
Of selling. Then, as Luna’s moon reached
Its peak, they all left. Had they lost the plot?

I ponder’d to myself. Suddenly, dread
Set in, as if they all had plann’d ahead.
I checkt in each place where I may have kept
My work – beneath the rug, beneath the bed,

But it could not be found. My thinking leapt
Between two possibilities – except
One would win out – that they had turn’d to thiev’s!
Of course they would! If I would not accept

Their offers, they’d use talking that deceiv’s
My watch – O for what trickery achiev’s
Such end. If just the one would leave me be,
Then so be it; I’ll not make more on leav’s

Of canvas for them. Yet I was not free
From their grasp, not just yet – I’d have to flee
Away from my third home. I settl’d on
A city far away, where they’d not see

Me in a crowd. I would become their pawn,
Adopt their accent and their ways, and gone
I would be, ’mid the sea of others too.
I only wish I knew what that would spawn:

Within ennui, one day I would walk through
The doors into an art museum, view
Its works, as many others had. And there I saw
Inside the rearmost chamber, all too true,

The painting I had made! I stood in awe
And took in what their greed had done. The law
Might well protect me from such perversion,
But that would meant to ruin mask. My jaw

Would have to stay shut – and yet, they would stun
Me with their commentary. ‘This is one
I’d love to hang within my home!’ ‘I so
Desire to know who painted this!’ ‘This sun

Shin’s forth just like the outside – who would know
How one could capture with sheer care, to show
It on the canvas – ’ ’Twas all that I heard
Before I had to leave, lest I would throw

My guise away by chance. It had occur’d
To me some later time that, if I blurr’d
The rays that went into the water, then
I may have ruin’d the work, and it’d not stirr’d

Their prying. So they likt my work – but when
My solitude is on the line, their yen
Would not be satisfied. I had to hide
My talents, lest they find me in my den

And force my hoof along a canvas wide,
To make them more and more – ” And then he sigh’d,
Reliev’d, it seem’d, that he did not need face
Such verity. And then, spake Luna’s guide,

“Why not refuse? I’m sure you could with grace,
And they’d have t’ accept.” “Were you in my place,”
Said Hideaway, “you would be driven mad
By offers for their buy. In any case,

I do not wish my fate upon you. Had
You been there, you would understand – be glad
For peace and solitude – My Liege, I’d see
How lonely court can be, but don’t be sad;

Far better ’tis to see to nought – to me,
At least.” “I may judge you on that – for we
Have many we call company,” she spake.
“But is that all you have to tell?” said he.

“What happen’d to your work? Did you forsake
It at some point?” He rais’d a hoof. “I’ll take
A moment to complete, and you shall hear.”
He clear’d his throat. “That painting made me ache

For home, but home to me was never near.
I soon resolv’d to let no more appear
Within my lifetime. Then one day, I woke
To see that out beyond my door, a queer

Sight took hold – you saw it yourselv’s, no joke!
Nought but sand far as I could see! I’d poke
My side, but I did not rouse from my sleep.
It seem’d a fitting fate, for that paintstroke

That would complete my work that I’d not keep
Was done in such a clime. ’Twould not be cheap
To replicate in any likely way.
But all that sand would bother me. I’d sweep

For half the day, and by the end, you’d say
That I’d not done a thing. By end of day
I gave up on the prospect, and would dwell
As if a nomad, in this clime to stay.

Much to my chagrin, they would never well
Stay far away from me. I’d know the smell
Of them approaching, looking for some loot.
If only I could learn a useful spell

To deprecate their efforts like a brute.
Of course, it would not resolve the dispute,
So ev’ry time they found me, I would need
To move away from there, which would refute

Their efforts – for a time, each time. They’d heed
My actions not, in finding me with speed
Again. You two are just the latest. Now,
Have you any demands?” He would then read

Their faces, trying, ascertaining how
They could have found him here by chance. “Allow
An explanation,” Luna spake, as though
He could see in his mind. But he’d not bow

To her inquiry. “If you’ve nought to show,
Then why do you come this way? I don’t know
A pathway to the mountain top.” “Then we’ve
Nought more to say,” spake she. “Then get out! Go!

And bother me not e’er again!” They’d leave
With ev’ry bit of haste, though they’d not thieve
A thing from him. No matter what, they would
Respect his wishes. What could they achieve

Without assistance? “O, this is not good,”
Honeycomb said – and pointed, where they stood
Would soon be overwhelm’d in storm and sand.
The princess nodded gravely, understood

That something ill-wrought was upon them, and
They should prepare f’ whatever it had plann’d
For them. They pulled their cloaks overhead,
And cover’d up their faces, such this land

Could do no harm to them – it might instead
Bring sharper rocks, in order to shred
Their precious cloths ’til they were just a rag
Upon their hide. Th’ idea brought her dread,

Just thinking of such cruel fate would nag
Her in the back of mind. And like a flag
Aflutter in the gusting wind, her cloak
Would threaten to fly off. She made it snag

Upon her hoof, to make it stay. It broke,
The sandstorm, rather soon, which made them soak
In all its fury. Luna, sans word, pled
That this calamity’d not make them croak.