//------------------------------//
// 1. The Exilarch: Part 2. The Calm Waters 
// Story: The Wanderer of the North 
// by Alaxsxaq 
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1. The Exilarch: Part 2. The Calm Waters


The tall blue stallion watched as today's seeds were sown. By autumn hopefully the grains would yield enough wheat to last throughout winter. Life in this wild country was harsh, and what little food that the ground could provide had to be rationed. It was not altogether uncommon for the grown father to go for a day or two without food, sacrificing his meals for the sake of his developing daughter. And those times would only become more frequent once the foal had been weaned from cow's milk.

Always optimistic though, Maiëlindir tried to never dwell on the ill-fate he was dealt. No, for today's work had been completed at an unprecedented pace: it was only a few hours past midday. Most days the sun would begin to set before everything was tilled and sown. But the promise of something very enticing prompted a small white filly to exert herself to the fullest. This pony looked at the field and smiled. Her father always told her pride was a dangerous thing, but there's nothing wrong with loving a job well done.

And it didn't hurt that Maiëlindir declared today's workload to be less than usual.

Already she could smell the sweet aroma of a baked good coming from the open door to the hovel. Left idle, her chores finished, young Nikóleva rushed inside the home, and towards the old stone oven where the cake was baking. On very few occasions was the luxury of cake allowed to be prepared, but from the first taste Nikóleva had fallen in love with the dessert.

It was simple; milk and flour and other ingredients for a baked food. But her father had put that strange sparkling powder into the mix, adding a flavor Nikóleva loved dearly. Indeed, combining sweetness with cake might have been the single greatest idea the filly had ever heard. Even now her mouth watered, wanting so desperately to sink her teeth into that decadent delight.

In the ages to come the young alicorn would experience all kinds of culinary innovations to the "cake", including cheese, creams and exotic flavors. But for now, a simple and humble dessert would be absolutely perfect.

Henarion, ever burdened by a stubborn leg wound that refused to heal, was appointed the baker. Using a wooden paddle to retrieve the cake, he placed it on the counter to cool down. Fed just enough kindling, the fire below the oven was starting to die. Starry-eyed and hungry, Nikóleva looked up at her "uncle" and silently begged for a bit―just a nibble of the treat.

His face was stern and his posture commanding, "I recall your father told you we shan't eat the cake until we've finished dinner. Now go see if he requires anything before we depart for the lake."

Her hopes dashed, she hung her head low and walked out the door to carry out her orders.

The midnight stallion was busy counting all the supplies in the storehouse. Sacks of grain, shelves of cheese and bread, as well as bottles of fruit preserves and wine. He laced them all in an extremely useful spell he learned from the South. Now maggots and other such critters could not harm his precious food. Also within the house were racks of tools and metal, indispensable for his labors in the workshop. Satisfied that his inventory was accounted for and safe, he used his magic to close the doors, and secured them with a metal lock purchased from a talented earth pony smith.

Turning around, he was surprised by his eldest daughter, looking up near vertically at her exceedingly tall father. Maiëlindir could tell exactly what she wanted.

"Everything is finished. Retrieve your cloak. Has Henarion completed packing the basket?"

Blushing a bit, Nikóleva replied, "I...did not see, Father. I was distracted."

Rolling his eyes, the stallion quietly chuckled, "I shall get your sister and then we leave for the lake. Hurry now."

The filly scurried back inside, where she had just been, and did as her father told her. Maiëlindir too went into the hovel and to the wooden crib of his tiny foal. Gently levitating her up from the bed, he then placed the baby alicorn into the cradle beside the crib. Tenderly laying a few blankets over her still-sleeping body, he smiled and set the cradle on Nikóleva's bed.

After getting his own cloak, Maiëlindir retrieved the foal and brought her outside. Closely following were Nikóleva and Henarion, the latter bearing a basket draped with a cloth.

Nodding in approval, Maiëlindir called out, "Alright everypony: let us go. We've but a few hours of sunlight left."

The weather today was clearer and warmer than yesterday, and a gentle breeze was rustling in the trees. Small songbirds were chirping and preparing their nests for this year's broods. Soon the flowers would start to blossom, and new life would be breathed into the world. In the woods, a keen traveler could spot a group of deer before they ran off in fright. For the very unlucky, a wolf or worse might be lurking instead.

The path the three walked was oft-traversed and clear of dense brush. Even so, the snowmelt still soaked much of the way, and large puddles were not uncommon. A few low-lying branches dripped from their leaves. Some trees had even died, as all things do, and fallen onto the road. These obstacles were minor though, and added some diversity to the rather monotonous sojourn.

But a scant half-hour or so from the little homestead, this lake was a favorite destination for the family. When free time was unusually abundant, a short picnic was expected. A more beautiful place had not been found; it's pristine blue waters fed by mountain streams, so pure and healthy. Waterfowl swam atop the surface, preying on the multitude of fish below. Gentle creatures came often to sip the clean water and cool off in the heat of summer days.

It expanded for miles on end, collecting the melting snow of Winter and carrying it along its own great river to the Sea. To the many ponies Maiëlindir had met, this lake was unknown in a lost and mythical northerly land. But in days of old, she bore the name Balideä: the Calm Waters.

Upon its green shore, the party placed down a crude cloth, loomed by the tall blue stallion himself. The basket was next, and its contents were emptied onto the cloth. Maiëlindir and Henarion sat down, and gestured for Nikóleva to do the same. She was forever enraptured by the cake, and its intoxicating aroma only caused her pining to increase. But the white filly was commanded to wait. Patience was a virtue her father did well to teach.

Maiëlindir levitated a small knife he kept girt about him. Gracefully he began slicing the bread loaves, some root vegetables and cheese block. He then distributed the victuals, generously sacrificing some food for his daughter. She still needed to grow. The pony also gave to her a small bottle of milk, prepared just this morning. He then produced an even smaller bottle for his infant daughter. The foal unfortunately could not suckle as all foals should, and instead was forced to be nursed on cow's milk. Every night did Maiëlindir pray she would grow up strong as well.

The party folded their hooves and uttered a phrase composed in ages past. Uir dhin catiléda elna vysht im-Oséo dharet. Immediately afterwards, they began eating their simple meal to cure aching stomachs.


It was not long before all the bread slices were eaten, the vegetables all but gone, and the cheese was no more. Nikóleva had finished her beverage, and the two stallions drained canteens of their own. Only the cake remained, and the white pony was quite keen on this fact.

"Papa, I've finished my dinner. May we have dessert?"

Smiling, her father nodded. Cutting a piece from the cake, he magically gave it to her. Licking her lips in anticipation, Nikóleva took the first bite from this delicious bread. The added sugar only enhanced her joyous experience, and before she knew it the whole piece was gone.

Devastated, she looked up, "M...my piece is gone now..." So smitten was she by the dessert, the white filly ate the whole thing almost without chewing. "Too soon!" She lamented. Such a rare treat deserved to be savored.

Crumbs around her mouth, Nikóleva silently pleaded with her father. Maiëlindir relented, and gave her another piece. "Just one more, else Henarion and I won't have any," he remarked.

Delighting in this display of charity, Nikóleva felt it right to pass it on. Tearing off the smallest of pieces, she approached her infant sister and prepared to feed her.

Her father however quickly stopped this, "She cannot eat any cake; Taberanyn has not yet grown any teeth."

"Oh...I'm sorry. I feel quite sad for Taby: it is very tasty. Thank you, Henarion!"

The orange stallion smiled before taking a bite of his piece, "Not bad, I'd say. I'm pleased you enjoy it."

After the cake had been eaten in its entirety, Nikóleva was allowed to frolic in the meadow just before the lakeside. Inciting her father to join her, the two ponies then played innocent games to while away the time left in the short day. During cool summer afternoons, Nikóleva liked to pick flowers and watch the insects fly about. Not yet had these come, but this did not spoil nor detract from the serene and quiet beauty of the lake.

An hour passed, and only one remained until dark. Therefore Maiëlindir commanded Nikóleva to stand before him. The true outing's work was to commence.

Leaning down to his daughter's height, he began, "Nikóleva, now it is time for me to teach you some very important things."

Eager to please and learn, she replied bright-eyed, "Like what, Papa?"

Summoning his magic, the stallion drew a sword he always had girt to his waist, "This world is full of dangerous things. When I was your age, your grandfather showed me many different skills. One skill in particular was that with a sword."

Nikóleva gazed into the shining blade. It was not often she laid eyes upon the naked steel of this weapon. In time, she would come to know many different swords, of varying degrees of quality. But this one would always stand out for its beauty and strength. 

A stallion of Maiëlindir's poverty could never have afforded such a fine blade from any smith, but it belonged to him by right. The entire hilt was haft of a substance found on Earth no more. Inlaid within the pommel were gemstones of all colors, precious metals gilding its delicately crafted curves and edges. In the center of the cross guard on one side was a silver moon; a golden sun on the other. The blade itself was dark metal and engraved on either side with strange symbols that Nikóleva would not know the meaning of until much later.

He placed the unsheathed sword on the picnic cloth, "Now, pick up the sword."

A slight flicker sparked from Nikóleva's horn, but nothing came of it, "I cannot, Father. I do not have magic yet."

"Then use your forelegs." The filly obliged, or at least attempted to.

Of the pony races, Alicorns were strongest in all respects; a gift they should have lost long ago. But in her young age, Nikóleva did not yet display these traits. The sword was simply too heavy.

Maiëlindir picked up the sword with his hoof, "I shall ready you for this world, and you will grow stronger from it." Looking into his daughter's eyes with sympathy, he continued, "Ours is not an easy life. Fillies and colts to the South may remain children for many years; not you. Forgive me, My Love, for I have forced you to grow up too quickly. But I hope you will understand why in time, and you will learn to make things and fight."

The tall blue stallion expected his daughter to cry, as he felt he was cruelly slaying her fillyhood. This however was not the case. She did nothing but smile widely, wanting nothing more than to emulate the stallion who sired her, "Thank you, Papa! Does this mean I shall be able to help you more? May I travel with you?"

Proud of his daughter, he shed a small tear, "Of course. Soon I shall teach you how to craft with wood and metal, sword fighting, how to read the stars, and to tell time by the Sun."

But the filly's ears drooped, utterly daunted, "This seems like quite a bit. I am not sure I can learn all this, Papa."

Maiëlindir got a courageous look in his eye and stood straight, "I know you can, because you are my daughter. You come from a great family, full of great ponies. And you will be no exception. You and your sister."

Elated, Nikóleva ran up and hugged her father's slender foreleg, "I'll try my best!"

Maiëlindir embraced her back, and then lied down on the cloth. Then she hopped into his back, peeping her head out from behind his. The sunset was just beginning; twilight being her favorite time of day.

While upon his back, she noticed the cloak and remembered two peculiar appendages hidden under it, "Papa, why must we wear these cloaks? It is not cold today."

"In case something were to notice us. Wayward travelers journey here sometimes, and...we wish to conceal what we are."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiosity burning within her.

"To the South, there are ponies like us, except some have only wings or horns or sometimes neither. Very few have both like us. And there are some creatures that are hostile to our kind. Therefore it is best to keep our wings hidden and to never fly," he replied, making sure his wings were fully beneath the cloak.

"What is our kind? Why are we different?"

"This is how Lórian made us; a gift that some are envious of. We are Alícëai ponies, and Tulicëai ponies once looked up to us for our wings and horns. But that was long before Henarion and I were born."

Nikóleva suddenly felt a twinge of sadness, "Will that day ever come again?"

"Only Lórian knows. But we are not searching for adulation."

Accepting this answer, the filly resumed her viewing of the sunset. Feeling safe and secure atop her father, she nuzzled her head against is neck, "Papa, tell me about the South."

Maiëlindir's gazed didn't shift from the sky, but he smiled and replied, "If you'd like. Well, there the stars are a bit different, and days last longer. It is warmer, but rain comes less often. In fact, ponies even control the weather! They move clouds about and water the fields of farmers. Some very special ponies even use their magic to raise and lower the Sun and Moon."

Nikóleva's eyes widened at this fantastic tale, "Is that where the Sun goes each night?"

"Not quite. I've never been to where the Sun rests. I'm not sure how far West it is, or if even the Sun rests at all. Perhaps you will find this land."

Trying to peer beyond the horizon for the Uttermost West, Nikóleva formed more questions in her mind, "How different are the Tulicëai from us?"

"They come in all sorts of kinds. But none of them speak the Language of Prayer as we do, and their gods are different and numerous."

"They worship others?" Nikóleva then took her necklace and examined it further before yawning

"Yes. Different peoples there have one or two they revere most, as we do," Maiëlindir said, having seen many temples and rituals, "They have many fascinating accounts about their gods doing mighty battles and deeds."

"Maybe...someday you can...tell...," but Nikóleva could not finish her sentence. Asleep on Maiëlindir's back, she curled up and smiled. The sunset was accelerating, and the stallion gestured to Henarion to pack all their supplies and return home. Taberanyn was also sleeping soundly, held in her cradle by the orange pony.

The two set out, carrying the children. Soon enough they would reach the homestead and lay the fillies down. When daylight broke, Maiëlindir would begin his teaching, and raise his daughter for the life she was fated to lead.

The Exilarch would one day return; perhaps not for another thousand years. But Nikóleva's eventual duty was to ensure the line's continuation until that day came.


*――――――――――S――――――――――*


Over a dozen pages now shined black with the ink inscribed upon them. A slight breath of air ensured the ink dried, and that the tome was ready for more leaves to be marked. Twilight reviewed what she had just written and nodded in approval. Perfectly captured were the descriptions and voices Princess Celestia had just conveyed to her. The winged unicorn did however have trouble recording the strange but pleasant-sounding names.

She tried to write them as phonetically accurate as possible, but inevitably some sounds in Celestia's old tongue did not exist in modern Equestrian. Twilight had not wished to interrupt the Princess, but the white mare's throat grew weary and required some water.

Using this intermission to her advantage, Twilight levitated the book into Celestia's view as she sipped from a small glass.

"Excuse me, Princess. But how do you spell your father's name?"

Celestia took a quick glance at the name in question. Twilight had rendered it into Equestrian spelling as best she could. Smirking a bit, the regal alicorn took the quill from its bottle and begun to scribble out a word onto the blank margin. Graceful as the sea, Princess Celestia's elegant writing was an artwork in and of itself. The symbols had a muted and abstract beauty to them, conveying the euphonic quality of the name it represented.

But when Twilight inspected the name, it was illegible. In her vast studies, she had come across many different systems of writing; Gryphonic, Minotaurian, Equestrian, among others. This script bore no resemblance to any. It had an otherworldly, almost ethereal feel to it.

"Princess...I don't understand what this says. Could you please transliterate it into Equestrian?" she requested, somewhat frustrated. Was this some sort of harmless joke by Celestia?

But the alabaster mare blushed, "I'm afraid this language is not ever written in our alphabet. So you'll have to invent the conventions for writing it."

Twilight sighed, dissatisfied with this answer. Nevertheless, she mentally began formulating a systematic alphabet, "I'd still like to know how to read this language. Could you teach it to me?"

"Perhaps someday, for it is not an easy language to learn, or to write. But ponies in my youth did enjoy listening to it," Celestia gazed off, thinking about days long past. Snapping back into the present, or rather back into the past from the present, she resumed speaking, "Anyway, I feel refreshed. Are you ready to continue?"

Twilight nodded and dipped the quill back into the bottle.

"Good...," Celestia's face became uneasy and slightly sorrowful, "Remain diligent, Twilight. Because what events followed are...difficult to recount."