Funerals were the worst. Even before Griffonstone had accepted friendship magic into their culture, Gilda never understood their purpose. Every griff knew that death was life’s inevitable end. It was far better to make the most of living than ruminating about it.
This death, however, felt different. Grandpa Gruff wasn’t what you’d call a ‘nice’ griffon, but he had still become a big pillar in the Griffonstone community. It was from him that she’d learnt life’s hardest lessons; how to survive, how to seize an opportunity. Were it not for him, Gilda would have never gotten to go to Jr. Flight Camp. She wouldn’t have survived long enough to do so.
She hated how he made her feel. She hated how she was never good enough for him, always needing to be more – more self-sufficient, more ambitious, tougher. She knew it came from a place of love, so perhaps that was why it hurt so much to lose him.
Gilda clutched tightly at her chest feathers. Was this the price of friendship? For all the warm joy it brought her, would it all come crashing down when final goodbyes are said? Her cheeks were wet, her eyes stinging. She hadn’t felt this way since Rainbow Dash rejected her, favouring instead her newfound pony friends.
That was a long time ago, a conflict she was supposed to have reconciled with. Dash had forgiven her, so why did Gilda still hurt like she hadn’t?
“Does anyone wish to say some final words before we put our dearest Grandpa Gruff to rest?” the priest asked, gesturing over the coffin window.
Silence. What was wrong with everyone? She hated being here as much as anyone else, but it still felt wrong to let Grandpa Gruff’s deeds go unrecognised. The least they could do was to honour his contribution to Griffonstone’s survival, long after the old empire collapsed.
She supposed it was up to her to carry on his legacy.
Wiping her face with the back of her talon, Gilda cleared her throat. “I do.”
The priest stepped down from the podium, gesturing for Gilda to take his place.
Climbing up, Gilda studied the crowd for a moment. No one looked at her, everyone keeping their heads down. It was hard to tell if anyone felt genuinely sad, besides her.
“Grandpa Gruff… was not a nice griffon,” she began, shooting a sour look at those who scoffed at her introduction. “But he was exactly the kind of Griffon we needed. When times got tough, he taught us to be tougher. When the Griffon Monarchy abandoned us, he taught us to rely on ourselves, fighting to keep us all alive instead of waiting for some creature to swoop down and save us. I know it’s ironic, coming from me, but without Grandpa Gruff’s help, we never would’ve made it until Twilight Sparkle and her friends got involved.”
Uttering the name of the Friendship Princess sparked a wave of audible groans and bitter chatter. Gilda had expected this. After spending so long in relative isolation, accepting help – particularly from those once seen as beneath them – was paramount to submission.
Gilda, of course, knew better. In time, perhaps they all would, too.
“Grandpa Gruff was never an easy griffon to get along with. But as abrasive as his personality could be, it was all for the best. So, thanks, Grandpa Gruff. Thanks for keeping Griffonstone strong. We’ll take it from here.”
Nodding to the priest, Gilda stepped down, returning to the crowd as a small handful of griffons clapped softly. As much as she wished for more enthusiasm, she supposed a lukewarm reception was better than none.
“We now close out the proceedings by returning the departed to the earth,” the priest said. “Pallbearers, if you please.”
As one, the pallbearers lifted the coffin, slowly walking over to the edge of the Abysmal Abyss. On the count of three, they tossed the coffin over, sending it plummeting into the darkness below.
See ya later, Old Geezer, Gilda grumbled internally. As she turned to leave, a small voice caught her ear.
“Mom, why does Grandpa Gruff have to go into the Abysmal Abyss?”
“Because that’s where we all go when we pass away,” the child’s mother replied.
“But why can’t they all go to the big place beneath the castle ruins?”
The question gave Gilda pause. She knew other creatures tended to bury or cremate their dead, yet Griffons always went for the method of sky burial. She’d assumed it was to do with the ground being difficult to dig into, but if what the child said was true, there was an entire underground crypt dug out beneath the old castle. There was no way that would be practical if the ground was unstable.
“Gwendoline!” The mother snapped, looking down at her daughter with a furious glare. “What have I told you about playing in the castle?!”
“We didn’t go behind the railings or anything!” she protested, cringing at the force of her mother’s voice. “We just wanted to know—”
“It’s none of your concern!” the mother slapped her talon across Gwendoline’s face, leaving a bright red mark below her tawny feathers. Yet her scolding was still vocalised in a hushed whisper. Most of the other funeral attendees were already gone, and those who remained didn’t seem to care about the two. “You don’t ask questions about the castle. If there was something to be discovered, it would’ve been found already.”
“But mom-”
“No buts! You’re grounded until you learn to listen to your elders. There’s nothing below the castle, and there never was.”
Gilda opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She knew well enough how unstable the castle ruins could be. No creature was permitted inside without specialist protection equipment. Though the mother’s attitude was harsh, Gilda recognised the necessity of it. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what the child had been referring to.
Maybe I’ll investigate it for myself sometime, Gilda thought, letting out a long yawn. If there was one thing she hated more than funerals, it was early mornings.