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

They took in their surroundings, in a clime
Much cooler than before. She knew the rhyme,
And askt, “Do you sense quiet within the shade?
I heard nought earlier along our climb – ”

“I know as well,” the baker said. “We made
No trail within the sand as well. Its aid
Perplexes me, e’en now; let us not dwell
Upon what may cause such a thing.” He laid

In the shade a bit longer – just as well;
She ought to relax too, this she could tell.
Her pacing was so quick, for she would fear
That they’d arrive too late. E’en with a spell

To take them there, she reason’d that, o’er here,
With him, she would have comp’ny and its cheer,
And since he had no magic like her horn
Conveid, she may as well become his peer.

“I think that’s long enough.” His voice was borne
Upon a breath that lact fatigue. She’d sworn
That he would rest for longer, but forsooth,
He was again upon his hoov’s. “This thorn

Within your side does bother me, t’ speak th’ truth,
And though I lack the spirit of my youth,
I’m as determin’d firmly as before.”
Said Luna, “Surely you speak not from ruth,

For if you are, then it’d be more a chore.”
“I’m not,” he said. “In fact, I’ve more in store
To help us on the way.” “I hope you’re right,”
She said – and firmly took a step once more.

The shade was as close as they came to night,
And morning was around the bend in sight.
He would adjust his cloak, and she the same,
As they would tread into the burning light.

And burn’d it did, as though a wicked flame
Lict at their fur. But it still felt so tame
Compar’d to other horrors of the land.
Just from her head with ease, Luna could name

Another danger – like a storm of sand,
A lack of water for them to drink, and
The worst o’ th’ lot – the false-wrought imagery
Black Widow show’d to them, a lie so grand

She still could not forgive. Out there, she’d see
The sparkle of her wicked light; with glee
She thought them safe from trickery like hers,
And then return’d to th’ climb. “I think that we

Have not much more to go – my vision blurs,
But I can see the top from here.” The spurs
Within his words would urge her further on,
But she could not confirm his claim. The whirs

Of wind above would scatter clouds; the dawn
Would pierce the sky and cover too. This pawn
Before the clime so harsh could never hope
To make out where they ought to go. “’Tis gone

Now,” he confest. “And on this rocky slope,
We ought to mind our step – who knows the scope
Of damage on the road up to the top?”
She nodded grimly, in her mind to cope

With how she greatly misjudg’d such a drop
Before. The end was not a simple hop
Away, that much she clearly, fully knew,
But getting there took quite some time. She’d swap

Her place with nopony – lest they go through
The same the two had in their stead. Her view
Was clouded over with her mercy, yet
She saw her logic on th’ event was true.

But she would not give up, for such a debt
She owed to him she would never let
Lapse. “If it’s any comfort,” he would say,
“We’ll find the shade again, and we’ll not sweat

For longer much.” She saw his cheerful way:
The spiral shape o’ th’ path would never stray
From out the mountain – rather, it would pull
Them inward, making each loop shorter. They

Would find the solace in the shade; the lull
It gave to them would leave them very full
O’ th’ soothing cold. “And yet,” she would explain,
“Until we reach the top, it would prove dull

To wrap around the final place. Sane
We might be not when we arrive, in vain
Most likely.” “But do not lose hope!” he cried.
“How many more had tread this path? This bane

Is ours, but ours alone. Some may have tried,
But they’ve not made it, so let us have pride
On coming this far.” Luna nodded. “So
It seems,” she spake. “I hope you have not lied,

But then, there are no prints i’ th’ sand to show.
Perhaps you may be right.” The status quo
Of silence would not be disturb’d for quite
Some time, as they would venture on. “I slow –

I tire so suddenly,” he cried. “I wrack
My limbs for effort, yet they are but slack.
If such a steeper path means quicker climb,
Then I would choose the fairer road.” Th’ attack

Of her fatigue would sing her the same rhyme.
She struggl’d onward, even more, but time
Would prove her weak in any case – she fell
Upon her belly, having felt the crime

Inflicted on her form. O what to tell
Of their misfortune – neither moving well
Ahead, and held up here within the heat!
She rais’d her head, and let an earthly yell

Escape her throat in uttermost defeat.
“I give up,” she said. “There’s no way to cheat
Th’ inevitable. We’re stuck here for sure.”
“But I do not,” he argu’d. “I’m just beat

And starv’d for strength, ’tis all. The only cure
For this is rest, for just the time – just pure
Rest – ” “Even in the sun? Have you gone mad?”
“We’ve nowhere else to go, so we’ll endure

The elements for now, as we both had
Before.” Another word past not to add,
So Luna thought of how they could o’ercome
The obstacle. But ev’ry plan turn’d bad

For both of them – to name just a few, some
Involv’d her flight or magic, not a crumb
Of either to be sure, and others could
Be sour’d by something unforseen – how dumb!

But give her time enough, and Luna should
Yield something that would prove them rather good.
But nothing came to mind, no matter how
She prest herself to think – she never would

Conjure solutions viable. She’d bow
At last to such futility, and now,
She turn’d to her guide, askt “Have you a way
To conquer what should stand before my vow?”

In answering this question, he would say,
“Perhaps what we seek should itself display
When we speak of it. Think of how before
We pull’d two ponies out the wall. We’d stay

To hear their tales, then they would have in store
A thing to answer sev’ral questions, or
A pathway we’d not see in other case.
Think of the possibilities! What more

Could they provide?” “But here, within this place?”
She askt the baker. “I see nary trace
Of life within the wall. I rub it here,
And nothing happens. I should laugh!” Her face

Would start to laugh, but soon would stop, for near
Another voice erupted. “Never fear –
Forge Hammer has arriv’d!” And very soon
A crack appear’d within the rock. A sneer –

Nay, smile – would form upon a face. The noon
Did not disturb it, and a stallion hewn
From rock would stand before the roving two.
Before he spoke, the Keeper of the Moon

Would ask, “How did we find you here? My view
Must play some tricks on me.” “That much’s not true!”
He said, his voice so chipper. “I exist!”
He sounded like the jester they went through

Along the way. Said Luna, “I insist
That you not say a word if you assist.”
“As you command.” He sounded rather hurt.
“Belay her words,” the baker said. “Resist

Th’ authority – for now, at least. She’s curt
When tired, and we’ve been walking with effort
Enormous, both of us.” “So I can see –
And you two must have found where you exert

Much more than what you wish. You cannot flee
This challenge with your luck or trickery –
The hard way is the only way. I’d tell
You otherwise, but that would not put glee

On your face for much longer. Just as well –
I see you’ve fallen earlier; did you dwell
Upon a fork within the path?” “We’ve not seen such,”
She answer’d him. “’Twas rather just a spell

Of my misjudgment.” She laught. “Just a touch
Upon the rock – ” “Nay, that was far too much
To call it ‘just a touch!’ the baker cried.
“Ah, that will work as well – impatience’s clutch

Can spell your early doom. I would deride
Your efforts, but that’d not be nice.” He sigh’d.
“What shall I do, what shall I do? Perhaps
I’d cheer you up, but maybe someone tried

Before.” “Indeed, that is the case,” she said. “A lapse
Within her judgment kept us in her traps,
Which may have lost us time.” She shook her head.
“We shouldn’t have stopt – Minute Mirth well saps

Our vim before our eyes, and in its stead
Instills an artificial joy. I’d shed
It ’fore it poisons ev’ry part of life.”
“Ol’ Minute Mirth?” He laugh ’til he turn’d red.

“She never understood quite right that life
Is rife with conflict – be it with your wife,
Or mother, or a stranger, always know
That any time you will encounter strife.

I laugh in such a horrid face – to show
Your fear or anger, that’s what it seeks. So
Laugh! Laugh well, friend; ’tis how you can withstand
The troubles of the world, whatever throe

Comes for you.” “Yes,” she said, “we understand
As much, but that’s not helpt us much in sand
And heat and gloom.” “Perhaps the reason why
Is simple: you’ve not tried, have you two? And

Why not? What cost has it of you? The sky
Is infinite, as is the day so dry;
You’ve fac’d some hazards on th’ unbeaten path,
So why not find some jollity? Just try!”

“But how can we?” askt Luna. “We know th’ wrath
O’ th’ sandstorm – drenching us within a bath
Of blinding, choking sand.” “I have as well,”
Forge Hammer said. “And yet, the aftermath

Of such events does not perturb – no spell
Can harm me, least of all the place I dwell:
Within the steadfast stone above the ground.
Have you too felt such comfort? Come now, tell!”

“We’ve not,” Honeycomb said. “We’ve rather found
Its treachery before we reacht this mound –
But here, we’ve found sharp drops, a winding road,
And e’en a place behind the hill sans sound!”

“O that – of course!” he said. “In my abode,
I notice much the silence same. It show’d
That darkness also blocks out sound – ” “But how?”
“I wish I knew, but I accept the load

It bears upon me.” “So you seek not now?”
“I don’t – what diff’rence does it make? Endow
Me answer for that, why don’t you?” She peer’d
T’ Honeycomb, yet he shrugg’d and rais’d his brow

T’ respond. “Of course not – but don’t find it weird;
It makes no diff’rence – that’s the point!” He sneer’d,
And then continu’d, “Don’t you find it odd
That ev’rything must have a cause? Inher’d

This truth must be in all the ponies, broad
Across Equestria. Maybe you’d applaud
The mystery instead? It might benefit
You better than the answer you would prod

The dead for.” Spake the princess, “We’ll not quit
So soon, smith.” “Au contraire – that’s not quite it!
Instead, I do encourage you upon your quest –
But first, would you care for me t’ submit

My tale to you? If you hear, I’ll impress
You with the rest of my heart and mind – lest
You may go on sans word o’ th’ road ahead.
And who are you t’ ignore?” He truly prest

His words against their ears. “We three are dead,
So time is not important – ” “Yet instead,”
Said Luna, “we seek to be sav’d fro’ th’ end.
I’m sure you know how fast we have to head

For that to work.” “But ’fore you round the bend,”
He interrupted, “maybe you will spend
A moment longer, just for me to speak
My story.” “Yet another of this trend?”

She askt the baker in a whisper. “Seek
An out for this, if you are able. Th’ peak
Will not wait for all time.” “But why not hear
What he has got to say?” his voice as weak

Replied. “Perhaps there’s something over here
That we could use.” She sigh’d – perhaps her fear
Was true, that she could reason not with him.
Thus, she resign’d herself to sitting near

The blacksmith. “Very well!” Already grim
To her, he would begin. He stretcht a limb
And started, “Once, beyond this very land,
As I am sure you’d know, so full of vim

Unlike, I workt as someone simple, and
Found satisfaction in my work. So grand
I thought it t’ be, but you not spare no thought
In any other case – for you to stand

In labor ev’ryday, you’ll need it wrought
So pure and strong, and in the right shape – not
A simple task, forsooth! I was a smith
For shoes, and I would shoe whoever ought

To have them in the field. It is no myth
That lucky horseshoes do exist, and with
The proper work, they last for years to come.
Of course, its truthful use is block the pith

Within your hoof from turning stiff and numb.
Be you on earthy farmground, or on some
Floor wrought of marble – ” he would glance at her –
“A shoe does but one job, and not a crumb

Of one either. So now I did incur
Familiarity, and not a blur
Within your mind, I’ll tell you of a time
I met a rather stalwart stallion, fur

As black as mine. He never knew the rhyme
Of pain, and not because he had the time
T’ encounter harm – rather, he fac’d it all
And likely never notic’d. This such clime

Might not affect him, t’ tell the truth; the fall
Would not disturb his sleep; the sandy thrall
He’d handle as you two would simple fog.
In any case, he had poor luck befall

Him, when he tried to split a piny log;
He sought me out t’ reforge his shoe. My dog
Announc’d his coming, not that he had need,
The shaking of the ground from just a jog

Suffic’d. And when he came in, I’d take heed
Of what he wore already, to succeed
In shoeing him with just the right amount.
I askt if one had luck, and he agreed –

In fact, all four of them did. By my count,
They seem to have been reforg’d, on account
Of wear, so many times, they might not be
The same shoes he got the first time. I’d mount

His hoof upon the stool, and pried it free.
I took the shoe into the fire; on three
He stood for sev’ral minutes, since it took
Me rather long t’ reforge what he with glee

Would damage shortly after. He forsook
My sound advice t’ replace, and sounded shook
At e’en the thought. I askt him, ‘Why do you
Insist on ancient shoes?’ And by the book

He would respond, ‘I’ve taken up the view
That nothing bad can happen with that shoe.
I ask you, forge it strong, and once again
It will safeguard me from the world.’ So few

Have ever otherwise spoke, but I’d not feign
My int’rest, not at all. I knew their pain
Of losing something they so love; their joy
Was all that matter’d, second e’en to th’ same

Job that I did for them. I did enjoy
To spread my cheer, and as a smith, my ploy
Was perfectly plaid – I ne’er had a one
Who’d enter, get shoed, and become annoy’d

By what I do – they too would like my fun,
But obligations fro’ th’ farm made them run
Out soon as I would finish. – What a shame!
If only they could stay when I was done –

But then, I’d not shoe quite so many. Th’ game
Continues, ever-onward, ev’ry aim
Alike: to serve the betterment of all.
But I would add a bit of wit so lame

Into the mix. I said to him, ‘The fall
O’ th’ leaf approaches – can you hear the call?’
He would respond not. I would try once more:
‘Already I could sense the coming squall

Of winter – ’ He would stop me there: ‘This chore
Took long enough; shall you reforge all four,
Or need I take your place?’ This took me back.
I’d not been spoken to like that before.

‘Good sir,’ I would ask, ‘do you truly lack
A lick of joy within your soul?’ The crack
Of his voice would appear to me with ease.
I must have prodded something that would wrack

His psyche. Spake he, ‘’Mongst the piny trees,
I’d work to cut the strongest down, not tease
The bark so I’d release its sticky sap.
These shoes you forge all protect me from these

And other dangers in the wood. No map
Could guide you out, if you’re caught in its trap
Of memory. I’ll always know the way
By how my shoes are shap’d. They aren’t scrap,

If such thoughts entered in your mind. Nay,
They are what keep me grounded here today.
I’m thankful for the luck they surely bring –
So once again I ask: will you allay

My founded fears, or shall I ever sing
My grief?’ I sigh’d, and started on his thing.
A bit of steel welded what threaten’d to
Split down the middle. One shoe, fresh as spring,

I’d hammer back onto his hoof. Then two,
Then three, then four, the total that he knew.
He firmly bow’d his head, and then he’d leave,
With ten gold bits upon my anvil too.

The urgency with which he left did weave
A bit of curiosity. That eve,
When all the others had retired to their bed,
I went into the woods, so I’d retrieve

An answer. In this forest fraught with dread,
I had so many horrors in my head
About what lurkt within, from out my sight.
To my relief, I would find none. Instead,

I would not find anything, to my fright –
I wandered lost in the dead of night!
I sought the stars above, to navigate
My way back to my smithing shop – the light

Within the sky shone not, at any rate.
I tried to find the pine-stumps, then head straight
To th’ village – but the first part I found hard
With ev’rything untoucht. I would await

My fate within the forest, as the starr’d
Sky taunted me with lack of light – soon marr’d
By th’ ever-sweeter morning light at last!
Still I was lost, but I could see the yard

With clarity the night withheld. So fast
The lumberjacks return’d to work, ammast
Together where they were the day before.
Of course, they crost where they cut in the past,

So they would find me at some point, and more,
Show me the way back to the village. Sure,
That’s what I wisht would happen, but my thought
Was false, and fate had something else in store.

Another pine tree fell, and soon they brought
The chains to drag the log. These chains were wrought
In iron so hard, e’en I could never craft
A stronger link. I thought them perfect – ought

I to hitch on for a ride back, like a raft
Adrift amid the river.” Suddenly he laught.
“Of course, that never workt out quite that way.
Instead, that same log fell where I, the daft

Smith, stood. I fail’d to hear, and would delay
My movements for too long – which is to say – ”
“Yes, we quite get it,” Luna told. “You would die
Beneath its weight.” “Exactly – they would slay

The one who made their shoes to work – and why?
They never would expect me standing nigh.
My curiosity would make me fall
Into th’ eternal sleep, and they might try

T’ revive me, without much success. For all
They’ve done, I could not hear the living’s call.
’Twas just a simple blink, and then I’d see
The wasteland that you see as well. Your shawl

Protects you from the sand, but as for me,
I only had my forging-skill and glee.
I hop’d that someone out here would assist
A wand’ring soul like I, so I could flee

This fate so horrible. The land’d insist
That I would suffer – yet I would persist
In face of brutal sandstorms, burning heat,
And sun that shone forever long – the list

Goes on, you get the point.” “We’d even meet
The same ourselv’s,” Honeycomb said. “We’d cheat
Them just the same.” “Indeed – and soon I’d find
This mountain where we stand. O what a treat

The river was!” “The very same behind!”
Said Princess Luna. “It had well align’d
Us on the uphill path.” “And too,” he said,
“The sweetness of the water was too kind

In keeping us alive on th’ trip ahead.”
“In any case, it led me here. O’erhead,
Its peak was shrouded in a cloudy haze,
Yet something of it pull’d me. I’d tread

The trail for just an hour, and in my haze
I thought I found a cavern. O my days!
Perhaps I’d rest here, just an hour or two.
And yet, a moment past before my gaze

Would find you standing here – the Princess Blue,
And baker gray – I’m guessing you are through
Upon your way to th’ top. If we may pair?”
“We think you shouldn’t,” Luna caution’d. “Too,

I’m sure you cannot leave from out that lair.”
“O nonsense! Just watch this!” And out from there
He took a step, and saw that his form would dissolve.
He would retreat, but it would not repair.

“I see your point,” he would admit. “I’ll solve
This riddle when I can, and then resolve
To join you up ahead.” “Perhaps you can’t,”
Said Luna. “Even so! – I’ll not absolve

My own responsibility. I might enchant
Myself t’ withstand the elements, or plant
A charm within me, carry out the task.”
“But that’s unnecessary, even scant.

Nay, we will handle this ourselv’s. Just bask
Within the rock, and we might well unmask
The prize to you eventually.” “I hope
You are right – fare ye well!” Into the cask

Of stone he would recede, until the slope
Was smooth again. “I will say this – to cope
In such a hostile place is quite the skill
Indeed, and I am thankful for his rope.”

She pointed on ahead. “And yet we still
Have such a long way, so let us instill
Some concentration on the forward path.”
He nodded silently, and up the hill

They would traverse. “Of ev’ry wrath
Equestria has, I never thought a bath
Of wood would be so gruesome,” he would speak.
“Indeed,” she said, “I’m sure the aftermath

Was grisly. Let’s not speak of this, nor peek
Within the past.” “I do not wish to seek
A scene upsetting.” – and he spoke no more.
They would ascend, but still the mountain peak

Remain’d so firmly out of sight. They’d bore
Of the climb, yet they knew that such a chore
Prov’d necessary if they were to be
Alive again. As they went, the trail wore

Thin in some places. “Be in front of me,”
She would insist. “I’ th’ fall, I’ll pull you free.”
He nodded his assent, and would walk on.
She carefully would step where he had – she

Would take no chance, unlike last time. The pawn
Should break the stone first – if he need, she’d spawn
A grip around his middle, then she’d set
Him on the firmer ground again. Then gone

Was the light, bringing forth the shade, to let
Them cool – and cool they did, when they could get.
The princess sigh’d in her newfound relief,
As did the baker, letting forth his sweat.

But their relief did not mean stopping – brief
Their pause was, ’fore they advanc’d. In chief,
The mountain top was still so far away,
That they’d arriv’d not was beyond belief.

Along the path, she reminist, we’d say
A few words t’ those who beckon’d us to stay
For just a moment – then we’d hear their tale
Of life before they died. Try as they may,

They can’t return with us. And now we’d fail
The gryphon, Glister, back along the trail.
And now, I must regret our sacred vow –
Unless a second answer would avail

Itself, he simply would be left to bow
Before the wasteland’s harsher clime. And now,
He would dissolve soon as his memory
Would leave him – maybe if I would endow

Him longer life with my mind, he could see
Until the end of time itself, and flee
What we cannot avoid. The same applied
To all we’ve met so far, so far as we

Can tell. The dragon, Tângroen – well, I’ve tried
My hoof at reason, yet we were inside
His cave, so he would never entertain
An argument of logic. Then she sigh’d –

No matter what, we two could never deign
To make them three. By choice, or this land’s reign,
That plot has e’er been foil’d, so we did not
Bring yet another with us in this plane.

What’s more, the cursed land is also fraught
With dangers of its own – the winds had wrought
The storms of sand, although they are beneath
Us now, and far away, but we, too, fought

The heat and sun eternal. In my sheath
Of heavy cloth, I could avoid the teeth
Of daytime – but my guide would suffer true.
Her heart would weigh her down within the wreath

Of night-blue fur, and further threaten’d to
Stay her steps. He would see her falter too,
And ask, “My Liege, what weighs you down again?
Perhaps the sight that stretches out from you?”

“’Tis not,” she answer’d. “Rather, ’tis the pain
Of memory – of those who would disdain
Our harmony; how, if they could accept
What binds us all, they never could retain

My judgment.” “Hearing their words’ poison crept
Into your head does trouble me. I’ve kept
My own complaints t’ myself, but now I speak
In worry. Do not help them, just accept

That they are lost to harmony. The peak
Awaits us, don’t forget the thing we seek
In any case.” And he would move – the sun
Awaited on the other side; a shriek

Of sudden pain alerted her sans fun
About the change in light and shade. She spun
Her head, and saw that he had stept within
A rather hot patch of sand. Never one

To stand by idly, patience worn so thin,
She took him up upon his back. A grin
Would spread across her face, to show to him
That this was nary trouble, as ’t had been

For her before, that he need not feel grim.
With him held fast, she stretched out her limb
And set it down upon the ground. The heat
Sear’d through her hoof, but she, with vim

Untold and unforeseen, would further beat
The sand down with each step. The land would treat
Them with no mercy, but she did not care –
They had a task to do, and they’d not meet

An obstacle they could not cross. The air
Was dry, and sunlight bright, but over there,
The promise of that liquor sweet would call
To her – and too, she thought, I’d also spare

Some for my guide. Against the stony wall,
She laid him there; he felt no pain at all.
Then she would dig away a’ th’ sandy ground,
But this time, found no water. She’d appall

At such discovery, that she had found
Nought to endure the climate. She would pound
The trail in her frustration, but soon stopt
Herself from going further, lest she drown’d

In pain from falling of the edge. She hopt
The baker on her back, then she would opt
To keep on moving. Yonder there, the shade
Would help them cool, and as the light had dropt

Away, the intervening darkness laid
Across her vision. Soon the baker weigh’d
A lot upon her – forthwith, she would set
Him on the ground. The coolness it displaid

To him would comfort him – it would beget
A calm reaction, one of stretching. Yet
Despite the previous pain, he was still keen
On emanating from the shade. She’d fret

For his own health; however, he’d the sheen
O’ th’ wonder of the youth right in between
His irises. He seem’d impatient, too –
Even without an utterance, and e’en

Without a gesture, he was clearly through
With halt and go sans end. He would accrue
The energy to take the lead, before
The Princess of the Moon. And soon, into

The light once more he went, as if the chore
Bore no pain on his back. The sandy floor
Did not inflict pain on him once again –
Perhaps the scorching heat could never soar

As high as they had gone, or maybe th’ pain
Was much reduc’d, as callouses would reign
Upon the skin. Whatever it may be,
The curses of this land would not sustain

As much where they were. Nothing here to flee
From, nor, forsooth, nothing to help them see
Their final end – so hopeless it would seem
To her, with not a wile or trick that she

Could use to help her pierce the dreamy seam,
Nor any detour she could see, nor stream
Of water even to relieve their thirst –
And yet, with such dismay, she could not scream,

Lest she could cause an avalanche – the worst
Case she could conjure in her mind. At first,
All hope had seemed to be ever lost –
But he would speak, and then she felt the burst

Of hope from deep within: “You feel you’ve glost
O’er something you should not, and that the cost
Was much too great. Rather, I am right here –
I’m all you need, and nought more to accost!”