//------------------------------// // IV ~ The Library // Story: Izzy and the Moonlit Garden // by Sledge115 //------------------------------// IV The Library The spectre of Winter came to Bridlewood. Gone were the days of Autumn past, the fallen leaves covered under a blanket of snow. There was little warmth to be found for the unicorns of Bridlewood, save for their various hearths, and there was little shared between them, as always. As the snow piled higher and higher outside her cottage, Izzy Moonbow’s visits to the hidden garden had grown scarcer, like it had in other Winters, for the cold winds reached deep into Bridlewood. Now, however, with the crushing emptiness as her burden to carry, Izzy found little motivation to bother Luna. So her Winter days, once filled with quiet times spent tinkering with her latest contraptions in parallel to her mother’s ever-endless hours of painting, were now filled with little else outside of food and long winding hours of looking out the window, or ruminating before the letter she’d received so long ago, whose sender remained as unknown to her as the lands beyond Bridlewood. ‘Dear unicorns and pegasi.’ She remembered the words all too keenly. But pegasi were mean and cruel, she was told, just as unicorns were drab and somber, and earthponies rough and dim. Whoever wrote the letter must have been just as hopeless as she, Izzy thought. Why bother, she’d told herself. No one would ever brew her finest cocoa and tea for just the two of them ever again, even as Izzy savoured every warm sip. Nothing much left to do, save for waiting for the hours to go by, over and over, in this empty house. It came as a surprise to her, of course, when on the second day of Winter, there was a knock at the door, and who else should stand there but Alphabittle and a few others, including the gloomy poet from his tea room. “What’s this?” Izzy asked. Beside the stallion was a sizeable stack of wood. “Firewood, duh,” Alphabittle replied, with a roll of his eyes. “Can’t keep a hearth going without fuel, can’t you?” “Did I lose a bet?” “No,” Alphabittle said simply. “Take it or leave it, it’s gonna be a long one.” Izzy smiled, and received none in return. But the poet took off her hat, and Alphabittle gave one of his curt nods. That was all they had to exchange, but Izzy felt it, like a ray of warmth in the days of Winter gone by. Part of her wondered, in-between warm drinks of pine tea before bed, where Luna had gone. The mare had always turned down her offer of food whenever she’d offered it. She had her own food, Luna had insisted, and so Izzy let the matter pass. But now, as Winter’s grip grew ever tighter around Bridlewood, Izzy had to wonder if Luna had any food at all. On the longest night of the year, before she could depart in the morning with whatever food she could spare, Izzy beheld a library. * * * * * A library was the best she could call it. A glance into its windows showed a great many books. Most were legible, yet some of them were in languages or letters she could not understand. A staircase led to a loft above, where a bed covered in a Sun and Moon motif lay untouched. A home. The sound of hooves on stone drew her attention, and she tore her gaze away, towards the village that surrounded her. The Moon was at its highest point, its silver light illuminating thatched roofs and cobbled roads, houses whose designs Izzy had glimpsed only in storybooks. Twinkling stars filled the cloudless nighttime sky, finishing the idyllic landscape. All around her, Izzy saw little sign of life, as one by one the lights in each window went out, till only the library’s remained. Then, as she looked out into the town, Izzy saw them. Down the cobblestone path walked two ponies, side by side. One was a purple unicorn mare, who couldn’t have been much older than her. She was dressed in a star-patterned cape and pointed hat, adorned with bells that jingled as she walked. Across her back, what looked to be an oversized, purple-and-green lizard lay fast asleep. And right by her Izzy saw Luna. But she couldn’t have been Luna, for this mare’s starry blue mane flowed even in the absence of wind. Her coat was a shade darker than Luna’s, her hooves covered in silver shoes. Even her cloak was well-maintained, much unlike her friend’s patchwork cloak. But there was no mistaking those same elegant eyes, the serene gait, and most of all that mellifluous voice, as they passed by Izzy without giving her a second glance. “I hope I’m not taking away your time, Princess Luna,” said the purple mare. “I mean, gosh, it’s almost past midnight. Don’t you have work tonight? Sure it’s, every night and all, but still.” “Nay, fear not,” said Luna. “for we– for I certainly find these hours well-spent. Thou hast been good company, Twilight Sparkle, and thine little drake, too. ‘Tis only fair that I escort thee home.” The purple mare – lavender mare, really – let out a soft laugh, almost a giggle. “Why, what is it?” Luna asked as they arrived at the door to the library. “Oh, nothing, nothing, the girls won’t ever let me hear the end of it,” said Twilight. Luna arched an eyebrow, and Twilight offered a sheepish little smile. “It’s just that…” “Do I… amuse thee, Twilight?” “Yeah! You do and… oh,” Twilight trailed off, upon seeing Luna’s growing frown. “No, no, I’m not laughing at you, Princess. It’s just that no-one’s ever walked me home before.” She tipped her hat, the bells jingling. “Thank you, Princess, for the time. Nightmare Night was a lot of fun.” Luna gave a bow in return. “It is I who ought to thank thee, for thou hath aided us greatly. Now, do rest well, Twilight Sparkle, for it has been a long night for us all.” “Well, it’s a lovely night for sure,” Twilight said, looking up at the Moon above. For a moment, Izzy caught sight of darkening freckles upon Luna’s cheeks. “I think I’ll stay up a bit later than usual, I still have a letter to write.” “A letter?” “Mhm! Something about today. Princess Celestia’s asked me to send them daily, keep her updated on what I’ve been up to. Friendship reports, heh, heh.” “I… see,” Luna replied, sounding a little unsure. “I certainly hope tonight has been… ‘fun’, indeed.” “Aw, don’t worry, Princess,” said Twilight, “you did great, don’t you forget it.” “I shall not,” Luna answered. She paused. “May… we see these friendship reports?” “Aha-hah, you’re gonna have to ask your sister for them,” Twilight said, with a sly smile. “But we could always write to each other, if you’d like?” Luna’s smile was tranquil yet bashful too. “That would be… lovely,” she said. “Until we meet again, Twilight Sparkle. Let it be known that Canterlot shall always welcome thee.” She gave a sweeping bow, one that Twilight answered with one of her own. “I’m honoured. Thanks, and good night, Princess.” “Good night, Twilight.” They parted, the door swinging shut, yet Luna did not leave. Just as she was to walk down the path where they had trod, she turned to peer into the window. There Twilight sat before her desk, horn alit, scribbling down a piece of parchment. Beside her lay a telescope, and ever so slightly, Luna’s lips curved into a smile. “Come, Izzy,” Luna said aloud, as she turned away from the window. “Let us take a walk.” Izzy’s eyes widened, and she did not let go of the windowsill. “Luna? Is it… you?” “Tis I,” answered her friend. “There is much to talk about, or perhaps none at all. Come, come. Tonight the Moon shines bright.” Giving the darkened library one last glance, Izzy turned away and joined the tall mare down the cobblestone road. They walked on, past closed doors and shuttered windows. Yet, though there were no other souls to be seen, it certainly felt warmer than Bridlewood. Flower pots hung from windows, children’s toys lay scattered outside. Here and there Izzy saw well-maintained gardens, not unlike Luna’s. The mare beside her remained quiet as their walk continued. That was, of course, until Izzy broke the silence. “I like her house,” Izzy said. “It looked pretty cosy.” “It was,” Luna answered. “You should see her room.” “I’m sure you know all about it,” Izzy said, before she could help herself. Before she could stammer out an apology, Luna had already let out a laugh, a fond laughter that reminded Izzy so strongly of her mother, a laughter shared with her father. When Luna’s laughter died down at last, so too did her smile, her gaze turned forlorn. “Let us continue,” she said simply. And so their walk went on. Down the road, past endless rows of well-kept houses. A lovely treehouse at the edge of the forest. A great red-and-white building amidst the trees. Into a forest more twisted and gnarled than Bridlewood had ever been. Then, across a ravine, Izzy saw a castle. Or what might have passed as one, for it lay in ruins, its towers collapsed. She knew little of castles, only through illustrations in her old storybooks. Luna showed no sign of stopping, and so Izzy went with her. Before an orrery, between shredded tapestries and piles of rubble, Luna paused in her steps. “This was my home once,” Luna whispered. “Where my garden once flourished, and where Twilight Sparkle brought me back from the darkness, through the light of Harmony itself.” She traced circles in the dust beneath her, letting the wind blow away the dust that settled. A six-pointed star was etched upon the ground beneath the thin layer of dust, long-forgotten, now uncovered. Luna looked away from it, meeting Izzy’s eyes. “In time, it returned to its rightful glory. All because she wanted me to be happy,” Luna whispered. She let out a bitter laugh. “Who am I to deserve her kindness,” she lamented, “to have her teach me something so simple as ‘fun’.” “You loved her,” Izzy said, almost a whisper. Luna looked away from the floor, meeting Izzy’s eyes. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. “She was very dear to me,” she said, “as I was to her. In time, we’ve gained the courage to approach one another, to take the next step forward. Now we’ve had our time together under the Moon, and I will cherish it, as I have cherished it for so long.” She looked up towards the Moon above, and fell quiet as a stone. Izzy took a few ginger steps forwards. “Luna?” she asked. “How long has it been?” “Far too long. I am old, Izzy Moonbow. Older than the first seeds of Bridlewood,” Luna answered. “I had promised her a very long time ago that I would see her work finished, to see it preserved. That I would see her again when all was done. And yet here I waste away, watching all that she held so dear fall apart.” “Hey, that’s not true,” said Izzy. She furrowed her brows in thought. “Your garden, I’m sure she loved that, right? I like it. Tiberius likes it. And Mom…” Her voice faded. Her mother would have liked it, she was about to say. But how much of it was true, Izzy could not tell. Perhaps she wouldn’t have, no matter how much she’d poured care into her painting. She would never know. It was only when Luna came by to her, kneeling down, did Izzy realise she was crying. “I am sorry for your loss, Izzy,” Luna said, placing a hoof upon her shoulder. “To have your parents taken away so very soon, one after the other…” “It is what it is,” said Izzy, caring not to spill a single tear upon the floor. “I’ll be okay. You lost a lot more than I did.” “Nay, don’t ever say that,” Luna interjected sternly, yet not unkindly. “Your loss is as great as any.” “No,  it’s fine, it’s…” But it wasn’t, Izzy thought to herself. None of it had been. The empty house. Lonely hours that went by. Nothing all day. “Mom wasn’t the cheerful kind,” Izzy said, and it ached her to say it. “She was quiet and… and sad, too. But she cared. And that was nice. At least she listened. No one else would, but she did.” “She sounds like the world to you,” Luna concluded, and Izzy did not think to deny it. “Yeah. Like my dad and I were to her. Now they’re both gone and… and I don’t know if I should leave.” Before Luna could answer, Izzy unfurled the letter. Where she had gotten it, she herself could not tell. What mattered was that it was here. Such a simple drawing. Three ponies, joined together as friends, without a care for the boundaries of either horns or wings.  “It’s just a letter,” Izzy remarked. “There’s just not much to go on. But I guess it’s… it’s enough. That someone, somewhere out wrote this, and hoped it reached a friend. I don’t know if I am one, or if I should even bother.” She smiled, holding the letter close. “At least someone cares, though,” Izzy said, looking at Luna. The older mare looked reassuring, smiling to match her own. “The smallest of efforts may leave the greatest impact,” Luna said solemnly. “It’s the little things,” Izzy concluded. Luna nodded. “The little things.” Gently, she brushed a forehoof against the letter, trailing golden dust as she did so. Before Izzy’s eyes, the three ponies hopped off the page, playing alongside one another. They danced, they played, they bonded as friends do. When all was said and done, they slept against one another, quiet as they could be. Izzy looked towards Luna, her grateful words dying in her throat. For Luna stood there, against the broken stained-glass window. Her horn lit up with a blue glow, one that enveloped the Moon above. Her cloak blew open. A pair of great wings unfolded. All around them, stardust danced and coalesced, surrounding Luna in all its majestic glory. As Luna bowed, the Moon’s light faded away, just as the Sun emerged and rose higher in the sky. * * * * * The morning after was a blur. Quite literally, for Izzy wasted very little time from the moment she’d opened her eyes. Luna was all she could think of. And it was to Luna she ought to speak. So with barely half a bowl of porridge finished, Izzy ran out the door. Past all the crystals and rocks and streams, through the tunnel and vines. Little Tiberius barely had a moment’s worth to squeak before Izzy burst through, panting. Luna was there, same as she always was. The same patchwork, ugly cloak, the pale blue coat, the freckles that dotted her muzzle, and those eyes. Yet Izzy had only one thought racing in mind. “I saw you,” she said, breathless. “You were there. You had…” Izzy could not finish her words, however, catching sight of the nervous glance Luna threw her way, her forehoof tugging at her cloak. When the gardener spoke next, however, she sounded rather confused. “I know not of what you speak,” said Luna, shaking her head. “Dreams can so often seem real.” “... But I didn’t say it was a dream.” Luna opened her mouth to reply, but no answer came. Izzy felt her lips curl into a smile. “Your… your marefriend,” she asked, and Luna’s ears flicked. “Did she ever get to write a… a friendship report to you?” The freckles on Luna’s cheeks darkened. But there was no haughty frown to be met. Only a downcast look.  “Of course she did. So many letters, so very many of them,” she said, “and each of them is as precious to me as the other.” She turned away from Izzy, moving towards her little nook. And as Izzy wondered if she’d made an awful mistake, Luna withdrew a parchment, lovingly bound in a little lavender bow.  “Most are lost to time,” said Luna, looking at Izzy with those kind eyes, her lips too curled into an ever-tranquil smile. “But not all.” She sat down upon the stone table, joined by Tiberius. “Would you like to read it together?” Luna asked, beckoning her to join her at the table. What could Izzy do, indeed, if not smile in return and accept the letter. And so, side by side, with little Tiberius perched atop Luna and her hooves holding the letter, she began to read aloud. “Dear Princess Luna…”