//------------------------------//
// Book of Harmony, Canto 5 
// Story: Fallen-Song 
// by Chicago Ted 
//------------------------------//

It was some time, she found, before she spied
A chance to wear the cloak – a breeze had pried
And cut the mountain air, and at her height,
For once, she found herself cold. She’d hide

Within that warmer cloak – O what a sight
And feel for once! The Keeper of the Night
Would never think that this land could be cold
In any place at all. And yet, this slight

Breeze did its work to hinder her. As bold
As she could be, she’d gotten ust to th’ old
Dry heat of that below. “I’m sure the sun
Would fix this newfound plight,” the princess told

Herself. The cold would dissipate – the fun
With it – and soon she felt its heat as one
Great weight. Again she’d doff her precious cloak.
She could not even sweat, so she was done

With ev’rything the land had t’ offer. Choke
Upon your own sand, Luna thought. A joke
You have become. You’ll not best me at all!
The land did not speak back. Perhaps she broke

Its curse? ’Twas far too early t’ make the call.
She put a wing out, let it feel the wall
Along her side, to cool off – but she’d need
To keep her balance chect, lest she would fall

Again. The last three times had such a speed
That she thought she broke something – but indeed,
If that happen’d first, Solar Rain did heal
Away – the next two times she had decreed

Herself unharm’d. Perhaps she brac’d for th’ real
Result each time. Regardless, she would seal
Her magic in her horn – besides the pain
On her back, magic also make her reel

With loads of pain within her head and brain.
The first thing she would do, once she’d abstain
Her death, would be t’ regain her mana, and
To make sure this would not occur again.

At least, to th’ extent Luna had just plann’d –
In any case, she’d still need leave this land.
That much would come within due time. For now,
She’d need keep walking upward, mind the sand

That could make her slip down, and not allow
That t’ happen here. She also would endow
Herself with just a peek at what she’d earn
In the end. And yet here, as if a vow

Unspoken would forbid her e’en to turn
Her head to get enough a glimpse t’ discern
Just how much further she would have to walk –
And even worse, the fog would shroud, she’d learn,

The ground below, from whence they came. She’d balk
At this, but then she did not want the rock
To give way to her flailing nerves. So she
Would shift her eyes, and pray that she’d not gawk

Below the edge. As far as she could see,
There was no bottom – just a foggy sea.
And too, she should not stray too far away
Fro’ th’ cliff-wall. Not much more she could decree.

She did not fear the height, and yet she’d sway
As though she’d caught in wind. She’d not display
Her fright, to make it sure, but she could tell
Just herself otherwise. There she’d not stay

By the edge of the cliff – she felt unwell
To linger there, not ready for her knell.
She shook the grim thoughts, wishing not t’ stay here.
She had to know, on such she should not dwell

If only just to drive away her fear.
– Besides, she was sure that the end was near.
She’d just have to keep climbing, ever on,
And she’d arrive before she knew. Such sheer

Amount of pressure will see me to th’ dawn,
She thought, before my chances become gone!
But still, I’m so sure that the path will draw
Too narrow e’en for me to pass – her brawn

Would shift her weight over the edge – she saw
A sight she knew too well, as though the law
O’ th’ land would dictate that the princess ought
To stop here. She’d squint, and from out her maw

Her breath would make the cliff’s face of rock – rot?
She lean’d in closer – yet alas, cannot
Detect the find again for her to see.
She trac’d it with her hoof, but still saw nought

Where she have indicated. So then, she
Would step back far away – and then, with glee,
She saw again – and ponder’d how to show.
“Perhaps a bit of generosity – ”

And lo, the word reveal’d the pony, so
That she could better see. One made of snow
Instead of stone appear’d before her true –
The cliff was not cract there, this she would know.

“How could ice form here? O I wish I knew
The answer!” “So I shall impart to you,”
The icy pony spoke. “’Tis rather cold,
Despite the sunny heat – the winds so few

Would serve to chill me. ’Tis a rather old
Trick we snow-makers use.” “I have been told
Of those tricks pegasi use in the clime
Back in Equestria – they are clever, bold,”

She said. “You use the weather in its rhyme.”
“Indeed,” the ice-one said. “Though, back in time,
We would have many other wiles besides.
Howe’er did you discover me? What crime

Have I committed?” “You’ve done nought – the tides
Of Life and Death have claim’d us both.” “What guides
Informed you of this?” She sounded scar’d.
“If you are dead, then all Equestria’s sides

Will surely fall in on themselv’s!” She shar’d
A look of sympathy. “If you’ve declar’d
A need for urgency, then know this much:
I’ve climbed up this far, and I have dar’d

T’ encounter dangers in the face. As such,
I’ve used them as strength’s source, insomuch
As I’ve been able. From what you might run,
I use instead experience’s touch.

Besides, Equestria dear has not yet spun
From out of our control. The moon and sun
My sister shall attend to, whilst I rise
From out the dust of death.” These words would stun

The lost snow-maker – then she would realize
That hope was never lost, not since the skies
Were well maintain’d by dear Celestia. “Thus
I should maintain composure. So your prize,

The tool you need, lies at the summit – plus,
You fear another pony just might muss
Your plans – is that correct?” Spake she, “Indeed –
And even though you cannot make me us,

Your help is valuable still.” “Do you need
A place to rest?” she askt the mare. “Or speed
To carry forth? Or something else I’d know
Not now?” Spake Luna, “Don’t take this as greed,

But I would like to go beyond, to go
To th’ peak above – ” she pointed thusly – “though
I can’t tell what a chore it is to walk.”
The pegasus lookt to the clouds. “The throe

Will take some time to solve – ” which forc’d a gawk –
“Because I’ll need t’ rebuild my form. This block
Has had a profound influence, so let
Us stay here in the meantime, let us talk

Of times before – of how you came, what debt
Besides you leave, and other things you fret
O’er.” “Have we that much time to lose?” “You do –
I cannot speed the process, or I’d sweat

Within the sun, and I’d dissolve into
My second death.” The princess sigh’d, her view
Impatient, but she’d settle on the ground
Before the crafter, all the same. “Too true

No one has come this way, much less has found
Me on the wall as ice. The sun might pound
My surface with all manner heat and sand,
But I resisted ev’rything, and sound

I would remain for all this time.” “So grand
Your words are – tell me, what have you done, and
Who are you?” “Ah! My name is Winterspice,
And I made countless snowflakes for the plann’d

Weather. In winter-tide, I think it nice
To let the earth below be cloact in ice
And snow, to let it heal from what they farm –
Were it not for this, it would pay the price

Eventually, and they’d do untold harm
Upon the ground, and in turn raise alarm
To both the other tribes.” “I know that tale,”
The princess said. “I also know my arm

Grows cold within the snow; without the ale
Kept in the stores, one would have lost his tail
To frost. O what a necessary ill
To keep our fertile ground. – And yet, sans fail,

The spring returns, and too, the farmers will
Return to th’ field for work.” “The winter’s chill
Does give respite, at least – nine months of work,
Three more of celebration,” spake she. “Still,

I understand that winter is your irk.”
“Nay, always I can see the logic o’ th’ murk
Of snow so cold, pure, and white,” Luna said.
“I just wish that three months is not its quirk.”

“In any case,” she said, “I’ll speak instead
About the things I’ve done before. I’ve led
A simple life – in other seasons, I
Would craft each snowflake, then watch them be spread

Throughout Equestria ev’ry winter, spy
The ponies getting ready, asking ‘Why?’
Each time the snow-clouds came. And ev’ry time
The clouds let loose my work, they’d always vie

For just a bit more time, and yet the clime
Must change, as it does ev’ry year. The rime
Should hang fro’ th’ rafters, and the snow should coat
The ground without distinction. Such a rhyme

Sing everlasting joy – I should not gloat,
But I can’t help admiring that my mote
Of snow – one I can point out easily –
Begins its task, at first i’ th’ air to float,

Before descending to the ground, then see
It mingle with the others – now tell me,
What other joys do winter bring? Pray tell!”
“As you have mention’d formerly,” said she,

“We’re granted our respite for us to dwell
Inside a fire-warm’d home. And too, the smell
Of cider, and the Warming of the Hearth
T’ inaugurate the winter’s frozen spell.

The foals would play I’ th’ snow, for what it’s worth –
I did that once upon a time. The earth
Is just as lively as the warmer days.”
“I’m glad I’d help you find some sense – the mirth

Of winter-tide is present f’ all to laze
Whilst th’ earth would heal for coming fruits and maize.
But why do I so ramble? I have more
To tell, about myself to boot.” And with this phrase,

The proper tale began. “I’ve said before
That I was just a snowmaker, a chore
That sounds so tedious, but I shall vow
The work is not as hard as in your core

You picture. Rather, each flake could allow
So many diff’rent patterns – soon I’d bow
To memory instead of cleverness.
That way, when they would land, they could allow

A smoother meshing. I’d ensure the mess
Had unseen order, and it workt – unless
They melted, as they all would, then they’d stick
Together in a sheet of slush. You’d guess

The coming of the spring by just how thick
The sheet became – my father taught the trick
To me when I was just a filly, and
I never once forgot. The clouds were slick

Enough when days grew long, that I’d not stand
Atop for very long, and so I’d land
Upon the ground, if wings would fail to pull
Me from the fall.” She stopt, turn’d back, and scann’d

Her form. “The wings take longer – th’ air is full
Of heat, and not of moisture. Rather dull.”
She turned back to her. “Regardless, I
Still cherisht winter-tide – e’en if my skull

Bears much misfortune, I would never lie
And say that anything about its sky
Could stand a change. I got my cutie mark
When I made my first flake.” She gave a sigh.

“How long ago it was e’er since the spark
That granted me my destiny. So stark
And manifest it was – of course I’d spice
The winter ev’ry tide. Such times were dark

When I stept in the snowmint – nothing nice
About the designs; they would simply slice
Thin flakes off just three master elements.
I show’d them my skill, praid they took advice –

But habit has a way of making dense
Their thinking. Things that they did just made sense,
No further rhyme nor reason. To insist
That I must change the work, for them t’ dispense

Their older method, this they would resist
For sev’ral winters more. I would assist
In cutting ’way the flakes, but I have plann’d
E’en then to implement what would assist

In spreading cheer so far and wide. I’d stand
Firm – they would too – and then I saw how grand
Their methods were: the quantity of snow
Was what had matter’d, not th’ appearance – and

I chang’d my strategy. I’d have to show
My innocence, but secretly I’d stow
Some spare molds, carve them out the way I wish,
Then slip them in the place. They’d never know

The diff’rence, not the way they work! A fish
Would spot the change much sooner! Feverish
I’d work the next morn, ’fore one would call me.
He held my snowwork out upon a dish.

‘Was this your doing?’ ‘Yes, it is!’ ‘But we
Do not want fancy work. You could not see
From our words – ’ then he threw the snow away,
And I watcht as the fruits of my snow spree

Would melt upon the floor. I shouted ‘Hey!
I workt upon those in the night!’ ‘But they
See such as wasted time. I truly dread
This moment, but I have to tell you – nay,

You cannot work here, now or ever.’ Dead
I felt inside – I’d need to work instead
By my lone self. I wanted to object,
But he would never hear. I hung my head

And left the place in shame – they would reject
The art that I offer’d? Let them neglect
Their work, then – I will craft them on my own.
I knew how their machines workt, sans defect,

And so I’d build a replica, and hone
My craft that way. In time, just one alone
Could make four dozen patterns, all alike
In beauty. Sev’ral more could fit i’ th’ zone,

But I’d not spare the work, for such a spike
In snow production made a harder strike
Upon my soul. Perhaps, I thought, I’d sell
My new design t’ a rival mint? ’Twas like

Revenge twofold – my grand designs would dwell
I’ th’ halls of history, and just as well,
They would regret their actions. But I’d not
Stoop t’ entertain th’ idea. I could tell

When something could and should be sold and bought,
And this was not it, not at all. I’ve fought
My thinking ev’ry step along the path,
And so I did decide – ” A random thought

Would interrupt her reverie. “The wrath
O’ th’ sun has fin’lly ceast – and too, this bath
Of ice has formed wings upon my back.
If you’ll allow?” She did – the aftermath

Left ice upon her barrel. Frost would track
Along some hidden groov’s, and she would wrack
Her mind as to the method. I can’t find
A cause, forsooth, she thought – there is a lack

Of thought to my – She stopt. Her eyes would bind
Upon her neck and see her form rescind
Into her. Amazingly, she’d done a task!
But what’d she do? Before the glare could blind

Her, Luna shut her eyes – but then she’d bask
Her with the prize – from out her icy cask,
She had produc’d a charm. Upon a strand
Of ice, she gave her it. “You need just ask – 

So long ago, I would have made it, grand
And straight away.” The strand would not melt, and
She felt its blessing cool. “So what became
Of your machine? You did leave there, unplann’d.”

“But I did not forget!” she said. “My game
Was shrewd, and generosity my aim.
Of course, a bit of luck would never harm
My plan, and so it would be quite the shame

If those machines would break. It took no charm,
But that would come to pass, and the alarm
Would spread throughout the town. I saw my chance,
And took it. I would offer to reärm

Their mint, no payment needed – plus, enhance
The final quality. They watcht it dance,
And saw the O-so-gorgeous flakes of snow.
They would agree at once. They would advance

Enough for me t’ retire, but I would show
A gesture of my charity. They’d know
Exactly how to carve out new designs,
And more, t’ replace them ev’ry year – and so

My plan would be achiev’d. I saw the signs
That I should build more – but they had the spines
To offer help at least, which I’d accept.
It took three summer months, which redefin’s

My patience, but the workers were adept
In piecing them together. I soon slept
In knowing that the snow next winter-tide
Would be the best Equestria’s seen. Except

They did not wish for me to go – they’ve tied
Me to th’ machines. I did not mind – inside
The mint was where I was suppost to be.
I merely gladden’d from the fact I’ve tried

And so succeeded in my destiny.
For many years and tides I’d always see
A semblance of joy from the ponies who
Would watch the snow drift down below. To me,

’Twas all th’ reward I’d need. But just a few
Would still mind having snowfall scatter through
The land. I am sure, Princess, you’d desire
A summer for all time, but try that view:

If only summer were, then soon the fire
Of life beneath the ground would shrivel. Dire
The farming will become – ” “I know as much,”
The princess said. “But still, we would admire

The snow when winter comes, insomuch
As ’tmeans three months of rest. Your touch
Of frost is also gorgeous by its right,
And I would strive t’ enjoy the winter, such

That I would halt my duties. E’en the night
Cannot stay me within the castle.” Luna’s might
Gave greater weight to ev’ry thing she said.
She reminist of blue fur in the white

Drift of snow, how her sister would instead
Blend in, as though she wasn’t there. Her head
Would soon lose this idyllic foalhood scene
When Winterspice would clear her throat. “A shred

Of thought to let you ponder: in the mesne,”
She would continue telling, “I have seen
The reservoir of water, meant for snow.
It was suppost to gather in between

The storms, so water pure would use and show
In snowfall. This one year, they had to slow
Production, since a valve had sprung a leak.
They had to fix the problem, even though

The equinox would start. After a week
The issue seem’d to be repair’d. I’d peek
And see the patching-work was quite enough.
At least, I praid that was the case. Too meek

To ask about, I’d focus on the stuff
That I was taskt for – yet I could not snuff
Suspicions that the leak was still at large.
A thought I would conjure, and then rebuff

Before I spoke aloud. One day, a barge
That carried in the rainbows, would discharge
Into the foundry. Stray wind set it loose,
And it would crash. The foremare soon took charge

In keeping out the flood. I’d then deduce
The reservoir was in grave danger. Juice
Would hit the patcht-up leak in a large wave,
And in a second undid one week’s use.

I grabb’d the foremare, since I ought to save
The one in charge. Call it dumb, call it brave,
But I knew what I had to do, yet still
I knew this was my iridescent grave.

I open’d up my eyes, and felt the shrill
Amount of sunlight, much more than the mill
Would let shine through. No clouds here, only sand
As far as my own eyes could see. The thrill

Was wholly over in the instant, and
I could not find another soul, as plann’d.
And worse, my form was made of purest frost,
A thing that’d melt within the heat. I’d band

Together with whatever soul was lost
As well, but none of them knew me. The cost
Of dying in the mint was far too high
T’ sustain, but I knew that I did exhaust

All other options. High within the sky,
I saw a mountain – this same mountain. Why?
I cannot say, but I would ask a drake;
I would say else, but I would never lie.

He somehow knew about the place. He spake,
‘If you would leave me be, I’m glad to take
You to the place.’ I could not see such cause
But I’d agree. He’d take me up, and make

Haste to the base. Inside the hour, a pause,
And he would land. I’d have to climb it – ’twas
A longer journey, one I’m sure you’d know.
I would insist he’d take, as per th’ land’s laws,

A thing of mine as payment. He would show
Refusal at my offering, as though
What I had had no value. Then I saw
The use in heeding this – I’d likely stow

The things I’d need from out his sight. The law
O’ th’ land did not forbid, I found. I’d thaw
Out more i’ th’ sun, but I would stand to watch
The drake in flying off away in awe.

The climb was longer than I thought; the swatch
Of color blended to just one. A notch
Along the side would help me not at all
In keeping track how high I was; no splotch

Of color other than the gray o’ th’ wall
And tan of sand, and blue of sky so tall.
I wonder’d where I’d stop, and then I found
A rocky clearing here. A stone would fall

So far, I could not see it land; the ground
Was far too far away, nor would a sound
Erupt from whence it went. The wall of stone
Would beckon me t’ approach, and all around

I could not find another. All alone,
And with a lack of options, I would hone
My focus, and press right into the cliff.
I was surpris’d how quick it gave. It’d shown

That here was my place, and no place else. If
I tried ten paces back, I would be stiff;
If ten ahead, the same. So I would melt
Myself into a part o’ th’ wall. A wiff

Of wind or sand or heat had never dealt
Ill state, so I’d remain. In time, I felt
Secur’d upon the cliffface, not to move
An inch in any way beyond what spelt

My home. I fell within idyllic groove,
And did not register the time. It’d prove
Surprising, seeing you of anyone
To come into this land. It would behoove

You to decypher how you did th’ action.”
“’Tis rather complicated, but a son
Would burst into my court, demand I save
His father moribund. Another run

Into his dreams reveal’d he was a slave
To Shade’s Corruption. Rather brave
Of him t’ realize I could assist. I’d fail,
And we’d both pass away. Into the grave

We’ve gone, and we would wander through the hail
Of dust and heat so dry. We would assail
Some other beings on our path, but they would not
Provide much in the way of help. Our tale

Now brought us to the mountain, where we’ve sought
A way t’ revive ourselv’s. It is not bought
Or sold, it must be rightly earn’d. And yet,
Before we came, I never would have thought

That it would claim the baker. I’d not let
It be, but no way – ” “You must be upset!”
Said Winterspice. “Indeed, I was for time.
But then, I did recall, because such debt,

I could pluck him out before the chime,
And he again could sing the living rhyme.”
“I’m sure I’ll help you,” Winterspice said. “Be
Not stubborn now – perhaps a bit more rime?”

“You’ve done enough t’ assist me.” “Do not flee
From my assistance!” Winterspice begg’d. “See
The generosity that I’d provide.
I could continue making charms, to see

The mountain top ahead!” But Luna sigh’d.
“I’m thankful for the help, but by my side
You cannot stay. This journey is my own,
And furthermore, the path is never wide

Enough for two – just me alone would hone
My side along the cliff. I am alone,
And I have ought t’ remain so. Do not fret;
You’ve done enough – your charity has shown

The way ahead.” Said Winterspice, “My debt
Might not be paid at all – ” “Perhaps you’d get
The meaning of your act if you’d allow
Yourself t’ accept the same unto you.” “Yet

I have done not enough!” “You have – endow
Yourself with this our comfort.” She would bow
And walk away, and pull’d her cloak o’er soon.
She had some questions for herself. First, how

Could she deny the mare of what she’d swoon?
She would recall the clerk, his lost skull hewn
From bone and carv’d stone. She would follow not
Within his selfless steps, lest she’d attune

Herself to needless sacrifice. I ought
To leave her there, she thought. And if she sought
The same herself? I doubt she would require –
From what I had divin’d, her willing thought

Was that she merely was content, not dire
To leave the place. Besides, she know the higher
One went, the further she would need descend
T’ return t’ where she belonged. She’d admire

The will, but such cannot let her amend
The vow. Though, she thought, it’d truly rend
My heart to leave her there. And thought I must
Advance without her, how can I defend

My actions? Endless guilt betide me! Dust
Would claim her surely, but it is not just!
But even so, I must go on. Her head
Would lose this thinking when she felt the thrust

Of hot wind on her horn. She squinted, pled
That sun would not blind her – but there instead
Was that ice-charm that Winterspice gave. Th’ stem
Wrapt neatly ’round her neck, as though the thread

Did ev’ry bit of its work. What a gem
And magic it was! By her diadem,
She’d regret Winterspice was not her peer
Upon this journey. Then she felt some phlegm –

She clear’d her throat, since dust so fine’d adhere
Within. I too wish water would spring near,
Thought Luna, but the matter is, I find
No place at this height where it could be clear.

No need to fret, of course, within her mind.
No matter how much does get lodg’d, in kind
I cannot die before my time. I know
This very well – she glanced right behind,

But found no single soul, not one to slow.
Her egress much at very least. She’d show
Herself along the spiral path, and she
Resumed walking forward – and although

She needn’t, she steadied her eyes to see
A source to drink from. Nothing flowing free
For certain, but that would not halt her hunt.
A certain height would truly kill a tree,

So looking verdantly, from out the front,
Would make her miss the obvious. A grunt
Of effort told her of a steeper path,
One where she’d have to execute a stunt

To overcome. And yet, she fear’d the wrath
Upon her skull that magic brought, the bath
Of pain because she lackt the mana to
Draw from. She still forgot the aftermath,

And drew a pulse to hoist herself. She knew
The toll it took upon her, so she threw
A hoof before herself, and with a stark
Grasp, not of magic, she would pull in lieu.

She wanted water even more – a spark
Descended from her horn. She would remark,
“That may be the last time I ought to wield
My magic – Flight is likely still, I hark?”

It may not be – the thinner air had seal’d
Them to her sides. The thought had so appeal’d
To her, that Luna all the same would try.
She thrust them out, but they she could not wield.

She realized, So though I cannot fly,
I’ll see this journey to the end. “– And I
Cannot wait for such end myself!” she spake
Aloud. And just like that, she’d look to th’ sky

And saw clouds, eternal as th’ day. It’d ache
Her eyes to stare, but she knew it’d not take
Much longer to arrive. She just hop’d that
She had the fortitude not to forsake

Her vow to him and all Equestria. Flat
The cliffside trail became, which had begat
Some comfort for her – truly, Solar Rain
Had had a point; a soul would not combat

Her on the way, as long as she’d sustain
Her efforts, not back down. She felt the pain
Of walking in her legs, but felt she’d close
In on the goal within the hour. Again

The shade would come around, and so the throes
The sun would shine upon them lost their glows.
Not that they had effect. She took in air
So crisp, fresh, and cool – e’en without the snows

Of higher altitudes, she did not care
About her thirst; that much can wait. She’d stare
Outwards again – where, nat’rally, the sun
Would threaten not to blind her – and the mare

Could see so far. O look at all we’ve done
And seen! she would imagine. O what fun
We’ve had upon our walk! Down she would point
To hint at the surrounding distance – One

Should be amaz’d by all the things in joint
We’ve done together, e’en if I’d anoint
Myself in Shade’s Corruption – which I’m sure
He knew was willful not. And now, the point

Draws ever near, no longer such a blur.
She sigh’d in her relief. “So it goes.” Her
Internal voice reflected quietude.
“Beyond this stagg’ring height lies what my tour

Had vow’d to us. So far, we’ve met the rude,
And those who harmony ours did elude.
As well, we’ve met the ones who would erode
Our principles of peace, or so I’ve view’d.”