//------------------------------// // Ófreskjubanamol // Story: Honor for the Enemy // by Simon_oSullivan //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Ófreskjubanamol (The ballad of the beastslayer)   Steep walls protected the Gryphon Kingdom of the North. They had been carved from stone as white as the purest ivory, and only the king’s castle’s main tower stood taller than the wall itself. Dozens of towers spread across the fortification, with threatening ballistae fully armed and pointing at the ground outside the walls. The wooden door stood almost as tall as the wall itself, the thick planks welded to each other by iron plates. On top of the gate was a thick stone bridge with several more ballistae and cauldrons to defend against whoever assaulted them.   Only one third of the towers had soldiers stationed in them, with only a few lookouts flying over the castle and the surrounding areas. Outside the gate, two sturdy gryphons remained on guard, supporting their weight on their spears. The leftmost sighed, massaging his forehead with his talon. “We should be enjoying the celebration in there.”   Rolling her eyes, the female guard replied to him. “This is the third time you mention it. Do you think I like being here?”   “It wasn’t fair, Centurion!” The male gryphon spread his wings as he puffed his chest out. A scowl from his superior made him shrink and return to his position. “I was this close to qualify for this year’s tournament! I wouldn’t have to be here if I had won that last fight! And now I have to deal with guard duty while all the contestants are feasting in there!”   “You were unlucky, Legionary. Everyone was surprised when Evocatus Géralt’s name was mentioned.” Her face twisted in a pained expression as she turned to face him. “It was a brutal confrontation.”   “That beast broke four of my ribs and my left arm!” The Legionary rested his free hand on his side, gritting his teeth as he rubbed the bandages wrapping his torso.   “I would recommend you to rest until you’re fully healed.”   The Legionary let out a short, mocking burst of laugh. “You know better than me that a few broken bones can’t stop a gryphon soldier.”   The Centurion’s smiled at the legionary’s words. “While that’s the maxim of our army, it’s always refreshing to see it live.”   With a pained grunt, the legionary stood uptight. “I serve in this army with pride. I accepted to do this while it finishes healing. Once I’m back to normal, I’ll return to scouting duties.” He looked up to see a scout hastily flying over the wall inside the city. “Looks like we have company.”   “I wonder why the scout hasn’t come to us before getting inside.” The Centurion took a pair of binoculars from the pouch hanging from her belt as peeked over the horizon. Though still about less than a mile away, the pony caravan marched steadily towards them. “Oh, the Fimbulvetrians are coming, and apparently bring plenty of full carts! The scout must be going to tell the king.”   The Legionary raised an eyebrow, looking at the female gryphon through the corner of his eye. “In the middle of the commemorative feast?”   “King Goliath always welcomes the caravans with open arms. Considering how lacking they’ve been these past few years, this is a great thing.”   Discreetly reaching his bandaged side, the Legionary softly caressed his wound. “I could use a servant to take care of my house while I finish healing.”   “You can negotiate a price when they start the auction. Now stay steady. Professional.” Both gryphons remained motionless, only paying attention to the slowly approaching caravans.   Drakkar trotted his way ahead to meet the gryphon guards, saluting them by hitting his chest with a hoof. “þegn Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson of Scandineighvia.”   The female gryphon replied with a hit on her breastplate. “Centurion Gillian, second cohort of the fourth legion.” Trumpet sounds echoed across the sky, both gryphon guards straighten up and puffing out their chests. “King Goliath will meet you shortly.”   With a nod, Drakkar waved at the caravan and gestured at them to speed up. Megin-gjarð’s trotting sank his hooves on the soft ground as he slowly got next to the þegn. While keeping a formal pose, both guards looked up at the huge armored stallion that stood in front of them. Before anything could come out of their opened beaks, the gigantic city gates opened.   A committee of gryphons stood ceremoniously around a much larger one. Standing almost as tall as Megin-gjarð, the majestic creature stepped forward, his forehead decorated with a golden circlet with an encrusted ruby in the center. The light grey plumage that covered his upper half shone with a metallic glow that matched his bronze-colored beak. His lion half glittered with golden brightness. His presence cast an overwhelming aura of power as his piercing blue eyes glanced at the caravan.   Centurion Gillian announced the presence of the ruler. “Rex Imperator Goliath, ruler of the Gryphon Kingdom of the North!”   The Fimbulvetrian ponies saluted in perfect synchrony at the announcement, hitting their chests and slightly bowing their heads. Goliath spread his powerful wings to their full span, standing on her lion legs and offered his talon to Drakkar. “Well met, Fimbulvetrians. I welcome you to my kingdom.” When Drakkar moved his hoof for a shake, Goliath shook them with a firm grasp. A smirk formed in Goliath’s beak at the unicorn’s impassiveness. “Strong as usual! And loaded caravans, I see! Leave your soldiers taking care of the trading, I want you to come with me to our feast. I don’t want the attendants to be without me for long.”   “I’d be honored, Your Highness. My hófkarl would accompany me, if that’s not an inconvenience.”   “Far from an inconvenience, þegn.” Goliath looked into Megin-gjarð’s grey eyes, a broad smile prominently showing on his beak. “He might be able to entertain the attendants.”   “If I may make another request, Your Highness.” Drakkar turned to face Megin-gjarð and tilted his head towards the caravans. “Bring Chuluusüke.” As the huge earth pony walked towards the caravan, Drakkar returned his attention to Goliath. “Of all the Manegols we brought with us, one of them comes from a family of strong and capable warriors. With enough training combined with his innate skills, he could become one of the most competent gladiators your arena will see this century.”   Goliath stroked his beak as he scanned the earth pony Megin-gjarð was escorting. Chuluusüke’s strong yet slim legs trembled in presence of the imposing gryphon sovereign. Ignoring the colt’s fear, Goliath grabbed his head and moved his lips away to check his teeth and getting an overview of his well-toned torso. A smile twisted his beak as he nodded. “An acceptable specimen. You have a good eye for this, þegn.”   Drakkar remained steady, a small grin shining on his muzzle. “After years of fighting, you develop a keen eye for this sort of thing.”   “Very well, I’ll put this one away from the others and let the auctioneers focus on his skills as a gladiator.” The gryphon king turned around and gestured for Drakkar to follow him. “Now come, þegn. I don’t want to keep missing the commemorative feast.” With a powerful swoop of his wings, Goliath took off, staying in mid-air as he pointed at one of his followers. “Guide them to the palace.”   Every gryphon in the surroundings saluted as their ruler soared over the city towards the large, opulent building that rose in the distance, closely followed by most of his entourage. The gryphon walked up to Drakkar as he gestured to Gillian to follow him. “The young Legionnaire can handle guarding the gates for a short while. We’ll escort you two to the palace.” -o- For a land mostly populated by gryphons, everything was built on ground level, with only decorations going taller than usual. While their houses had walls, windows and a door, much like Equestrian and Fimbulvetrian households, their temples were much more different. Colossal buildings with only thick columns supporting a gigantic roof with reliefs of the deities they worshipped or battles they had fought.   During their trip to the palace they walked across the kingdom’s main agora: a large place in the outdoors where gryphons were selling their goods. The meat hanging on the stalls still dripped blood as if the piece had just been hunted. Drakkar paid close attention to the articles of clothing, most of them being togas of different sizes and short-sleeved tunics that resembled the Fimbulvetrian overtunic. Some designs were similar to the ones from their own land, but the holes for the wings were a deal breaker, and there was no time to ask for a version without them. Megin-gjarð simply moved forward without looking at the stands.   After a few minutes of further walking the colossal entryway of the palace became visible, menacingly standing among the other buildings. Marble columns with gold riveting and reliefs that resembled stylized claw scratches flanked the main wooden gates, on top of which the words ‘Aerie’s Peak’ had been carved. The building itself was almost entirely made of marble and ivory, with vivid colors decorating the walls and columns with scenes that depicted the history of the Gryphon Kingdom of the North.   Once Drakkar and Megin-gjarð crossed the gate, they stood inside the main room. Several gigantic tables had been set in a large, perfect square, and dozens of gryphons were rejoicing themselves in a luxurious feast. Large trays with steaks from different animals rested in the middle of the tables, alongside with several kinds of smoked fishes and fresh fruit. Manegol ponies quickly replaced the empty dishes with replete ones. Others walked over with large amphorae and poured their content in the cups of the gryphons who raised them.   Megin-gjarð stared with his eyes widely open, whispering to Drakkar. “By Þórshamarr, this is a feast worthy of Ásgarð!”   Gillian pointed at two vacant seats before bowing deeply before King Goliath and flying away from the palace. When they both sat on their places, Drakkar glanced over the gryphons in the hall. There was a male standing up among the attendants, talking and throwing punches and scratches in the air in front of him. The few that were paying attention to him drank from their cups and whispered to each other. “Whatever he’s talking about is either not worth listening to or a badly told story.”   Megin-gjarð looked at him through the corner of his eye, muttering to him. “What are you talking about?”   “Storytelling etiquette; I learned about it during my training as a skáld.” He discreetly tilted his head towards the speaking gryphon. “You know if those around you are hooked by your story by the way they behave. While in an inn, you know they’re listening to you, and not just hearing you, when they only drink when you make a pause to drink yourself, and you all order a new round. Pay attention to the crowd.”   Nodding briefly, Megin-gjarð scanned the rest of the gryphons. “So they don’t care about what he’s saying?”   Drakkar raised his cup, pretending to drink to cover his muzzle. “That or he’s mangling a story by telling it horribly. A good storyteller has to be able to see the reactions of their public and adapt the story accordingly, or simply stop telling a story when the group doesn’t like what they’re listening to.”   “Maybe these gryphons are hard to impress.”   “I haven’t listened to the story from the beginning, so I can’t judge it as a whole. All I can say is that he’s caught little attention from the crowd.”   “You haven’t missed anything worth listening to, Þegn.” The large gryphon next to Drakkar raised his own cup, letting out a chuckle through his grin at Drakkar’s widened eyes. “Giulio is one of the biggest braggarts our kingdom has. He’s a decent brawler, but far from as good as his babbling wants you to believe.” As Drakkar calmed down seeing the gryphon’s approving nods, they both took a sip of their cups. “You got everything right from him, and that only means that he could only be more obvious if his part eagle were a vulture instead.”   Drakkar raised an eyebrow. “So he butchers stories and mashes them up together?”   The gryphon nodded again. “I’ve recognized core parts of three stories I’ve heard from other gryphons before. And Giulio can’t even make those parts entertaining. I guess he likes listening to his own voice way too much. By the way, I’m Géralt.”   “Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson, and this is my hófkarl, Megin-gjarð Hǫggson.”   Géralt and Megin-gjarð raised their cups to each other in a silent greeting before the gryphon laid it on the table again. “You should delight us with some stories of your own. Something worth listening to, for a change.”   “I feel that most of my life was normal duty; fighting the Manegols, protecting the borders from the Úlfsvetir, taking down rogue jǫtnar…” Drakkar shrugged before taking a sip to his cup. “I guess I don’t feel it’s worth telling because it’s our daily bread, and while I’ve sung about it many times, the exceptional loses a lot of power when it becomes routine.”   “But every story is unique in its own way, and that makes them worth both telling and listening to.”   Drakkar smiled broadly. “That’s the kind of audience every storyteller likes having.”   “What can I say? I enjoy a good story every now and then. It’s the reason I rejoined the army after finishing my time there and getting discharged.”   With a raised eyebrow, Drakkar turned to face Géralt. “So you’re an Evocatus?”   “And proud of it.” A sigh escaped the gryphon’s beak, slightly twisted by a weak smile. “After years of training, patrolling and fighting, I got used to it, and there’s little to do for me as a citizen, so I rejoined.”   “I can relate to that.” Megin-gjarð stared down to his half-empty cup, letting out a short, sad sigh. “In a way, at least. When you’re like me, regardless of whatever skills you might have, you have to live with the fact that you’ll be a soldier forever. Enemies fear you in the battlefield; those who live around you fear you as well because rumors are spread. And when we moved to Equestria, everypony’s uncomfortable when I’m around.” With a shake of his head, the huge stallion got the cup close to his muzzle. “Fear is all I inspire, and it’s something that becomes harder to deal with as years pass.”   Géralt frowned before looking the female gryphon that sat in front of Megin-gjarð. She shared his crimson-tip plumage with him, as well as the strong build still suggestive of her underlying feminity. Géralt muffled a chuckle at the sight of the female gryphon, slowly scanning the huge stallion as he caressed the mouth of her cup with the tip of her talon. “I’m not one to correct without evidence of my words, but you seem to inspire something aside from fear on my sister Gorgon.”   Both ponies shared confused stares before discreetly turning to face the female gryphon, who pointed at Megin-gjarð while holding her cup and gave him an approving nod. Megin-gjarð took a long sip to cover his furious blush and whisper to Drakkar. “Drakkar, what do I do now?”   Drakkar’s eyes widened before he swiftly turned to face his friend. “And you’re asking me why exactly?”   “You’re the married one; you know how to deal with this sort of thing!”   Géralt covered his beak with a talon to muzzle the burst of laughter. “So unused to getting attention from females, soldier?” The gryphon’s smile slowly faded when Megin-gjarð sank his muzzle into his cup. “Oh… my apologies, soldier. If you want my advice, though, I’d recommend to tell a story of your own. You’ve caught Gorgon’s attention with your presence; you might catch her interest if you impress her with a good story.”   Drakkar tapped the table, making a barely audible yet rhythmic pattern with his hoof. “And you are okay with your sister getting romantic with a pony?”   Géralt raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he whispered at the unicorn. “I don’t remember mentioning anything related to romance there, did I?”   After focusing again on Gorgon, Drakkar’s ears perked up when the true intentions barely hidden in her eyes. “Oh. Oh, I see!” A chuckle escaped his muzzle at Megin-gjarð’s attempts at covering his blush. “Well, that’s something he’ll be grateful for as well.”   “We’re not that into romance as a country, Þegn, though that doesn’t mean we don’t marry and all that.  It’s just that the survival of the fittest goes first for most, if not all, of us. So the ones who prove to give the strongest offsprings are the ones the other sex compete for the most.” Géralt took a sip from his cup, eyeing at Megin-gjarð with a concealed smile. “And while a lot of my folk discriminate, many others take our maxim literally and don’t mind going for interracial breeding.”   Drakkar blinked as he stared at his half-full cup. “So there are hybrids of ponies and gryphons? That’s the first time I hear about it!”   “That’s because ponies outdoing gryphons are seldom seem around these parts. Sure, unicorn magic is outstanding, but we’re more about physical strength and power, because that’s all what we are about.” With an exaggerated shrug, Géralt leaned on his chair before resuming his talk. “What’s the point of mating with a unicorn if that power isn’t going to manifest on our hippogryph hatchlings?”   “I’m just glad that I’m married already, then.” Both Drakkar and Géralt burst into laughter, soon having all the eyes in the room focused on them. With a raised hoof and talon respectively, they apologized for the interruption.   Giulio huffed with his forelegs crossed in front of his feather-covered chest, a cocky smirk twisting his beak. “If you have a story to tell good enough to interrupt me with, I don’t see why you shouldn’t share it.”   Géralt raised his cup, a challenging smile across his face. “Giulio, the sound of wine pouring into my cup is more than enough for me to interrupt your babbling, because it precedes the delicious beverage I’ll get to drink.”   Giulio gritted his beak as the remaining gryphons laughed loudly. “Very well, Géralt. Let’s hear your story, then!”   “Actually, I think the stallion here has a story that we’ll enjoy.” Géralt moved his cup towards Megin-gjarð, whose eyes widened before looking at the strongly-built gryphon.   “Me? B-but I’m not a skáld as my þegn here!”   “I gave you a few tips, so you should do fine.” Drakkar rested his hoof on Megin-gjarð’s shoulder while giving him a cheerful smile. “Besides, you have much more amusing stories to tell. Remember what happened last year when we returned to Ponyville after the alþing?” The huge pony stroke his beard as he looked to the ceiling. Drakkar smiled as his friend’s eyes widened and he turned to face the þegn. “That one might work.”   Megin-gjarð replied with a brief nod. “Yes, I can tell that one.”   With several loud claps, Géralt summoned the attention of every gryphon in the room. “Alright, we have a new story! Let’s see what Fimbulvetrian warriors are made of!” Megin-gjarð took a deep break with his eyes closed, slightly shivering at the pat Drakkar gave to his back. When the huge earth pony turned to face his friend, they nodded at each other. Resting both his hooves on the table, Megin-gjarð began the story. “It happened five seasons ago, in the usually peaceful land of Ponyville. The land lives under a threatening veil caused by the presence of a forest where creatures that defy the limits of what most ponies can achieve. And one of those monstrosities spawned from the direst of nightmares had become greedy for more territory to call its own. We returned from Fimbulvetr to hear the news of the town’s recent archenemy, and heard that the ruler of the town had tried to summon a militia, but when only three ponies finally volunteered, she refused to send them, fearing they’ll only serve as a small feast for the mighty beast.”   Resting his weight on his forehooves, Megin-gjarð leaned forward, slowly looking down as the table trembled under his massive body. He slowly sat again on the chair, crossing his forelegs in front of his strong chest. “There were always stories that had happened to somepony else, yet never first hoof experiences. I talked to Drakkar while on our way home. ‘For the sake of the safety of your family and yourself, I shall ask where the lair of the beast lies and I shall put its life to an end.” He stood in front of me and offered his hoof to me, demanding my part of our luggage. Once he had everything on him, he replied “you are free to go, but remember to bring a token that proves your victory over whatever is terrifying Ponyville. Bring something that will inspire every skáld in our land to sing about Megin-gjarð Hǫggson, feared by Manegols, Jǫtnar and beasts alike!’ And so he left with his wife and foals as I moved to the town hall to offer my strong hooves to protect them from the monster.”   As Megin-gjarð grabbed his cup to drink half of its content in a gulp, Drakkar took a short sip while checking on the gryphons around him. A proud smile escaped from his lips as the crowd stared at his friend, some of them taking quick sips during the short break. Most of them had leaned slightly forward to try not to miss anything. The þegn nodded in approval as he rested the cup on the table.   When done drinking, Megin-gjarð lowered his drink heavily next to a plate with boar stakes before resuming the store. “When I arrived at the town hall I pushed the doors open and they slammed against the walls with the sound of thunder. The mayor and her assistant rushed to the entryway. The mayor screamed ‘Who are you and how dare you to come inside my hall in such a violent manner? Say your business and leave, lest I summon security to kick you out. Ponyville is going through dire times, and the last thing we need is more troublemakers taking advantage of the reigning mayhem.’”   Drakkar covered his mouth with a hoof to muffle a chuckle at Megin-gjarð’s singing of Mayor Mare’s lines. While he wasn’t there, the þegn clearly heard the mayor’s screams at his hófkarl’s violent entrance in the town hall.   Megin-gjarð hit himself on the chest before continuing the story, speaking louder. “At her words I replied ‘I am Megin-gjarð, son of Hǫgg Stálhǫfsson, Hófkarl at the service of þegn Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson of Scandineighvia from the Kingdom of Fimbulvetr. I’ve fought in dozens of battles and have lived to sing about them. I was there during the great battle against the Northern gryphons that ended up in an alliance between both lands. I have fought against our Manegol rivals in many battles, and when they see me standing over my pony warrior folks their sabers and bows tremble. Even the mighty rogue Jǫtnar, enemies of the Æsir and Vanir, have learned better than to test their might against me. I’ve heard about the beast that haunts Ponyville, and I offer my strong hooves to give it death so your town can live in peace once more.’”   The huge stallion took a short break to drink again, and the whole room followed suit. Drakkar’s grin remained concealed behind his own cup as he scanned the room. Gorgon still paid close attention to Megin-gjarð, but he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that a few more female gryphons that had a similar look on their faces, all of them focused on the hófkarl.   Megin-gjarð left the cup on the table, and every attendant did the same. “The Mayor then replied to me. ‘I have tried to summon a group of ponies that would keep the beast away from Ponyville, but I didn’t get enough to consider the mission worth succeeding. I admire your courage, but I didn’t send three stallions to their deaths and I won’t let only one charge against certain demise.’ To her words I talked back. ‘I fear nothing that can die in any way, lady of this land. Guide me to wherever the beast lurks and I shall bring a token that proves that the monster is no longer a threat.’ She frowned at my persistence, clear as it was that she was hesitant to send me there, thinking I would die. But her assistant walked towards me and said ‘I can see determination on your eyes, and your attitude backs your words. You come to us in times of aid, but we fear losing citizens whose lives are lost for naught. You speak with confidence and bravery, so I will tell you this: There is a bog in the Everfree Forest; the beast calls that place its lair. Godspeed, brave stallion, and may your strength suffice to save us all.’”   Pointing in front of him, Megin-gjarð kept talking, a smile slowly brightening his face as it shyly showed behind his bushy beard. “Both mares bade me farewell, and prayed for my safe return. My mind lacked any trace of hesitation as I walked towards the forest and ponies walked away from my path. They called me a fool, suicidal, reckless and many more insults that had no effect on me. Those who are weak avoid danger, but those who are strong seek it to test themselves. And so I ended up walking through an army of mockeries not worth paying attention to until I reached the Everfree Forest. I can tell, and it’s as true as the fact that I’m here talking to you right now, that the trees there are so common that you can only see figments of sunlight shyly allowing inhabitants and casual dwellers alike to see when inside the forest.”   Megin-gjarð stopped for a moment to finish the drink, as did all the gryphons in the room. With a snap of King Goliath’s talons, several Manegol mares and stallions rushed with large amphorae and refilled the attendants’ cups. Drakkar nodded at the Manegol mare that served him, thanking her with a whispered “Gjalajlaa.” The pony showed a weak smile, nodding back before leaving to finish serving the rest of the gryphons.   While the servants finished filling the cups, Megin-gjarð resumed the story. “The stench of the bog became more intense as I got closer. The vile odors of the filthy depositions of the beast and the leftovers of a fly-infested forgotten meal were a mixture that would made the sturdiest of ponies to vomit. Despite the foul bouquet I screamed at the bog. ‘Bog dweller, rise from your lair and fight against your executioner! You will not bring terror into anypony’s heart ever again!’ To the challenge a beast rose, a large head with a mouth that showed deadly rows of fangs stained with dry blood. Another head showed up, and another one, and then a fourth one. Nopony told me that the monster were actually several of them, but alas, when the heads rose from the murky water I saw the beast as a whole. Connected by long necks to a giant torso with two mighty legs and a sturdy tail, the beast roared with all its mouths and charged against me, mostly likely thinking that now its meals were coming all the way towards it instead of having to hunt it itself.”   Muttering and gasps followed Megin-gjarð’s drinking break. Drakkar hid a smirk behind his cup as he scanned the gryphons in the room, with more females focusing their lustful stares on his comrade.   The huge stallion returned to telling the story. “The monster had four heads, but I can assure you that it was none the wiser for that. I would use my trusty iron shield to pack an even stronger punch that would throw one of the attacking heads against the others to have them explode in rage, as if they blamed each other for their incompetence. Once I blocked one of its mouths with my shield, and seeing me struggling against it, another head tried to bite my head off. I was able to grab the one that was trying to devour me and pulled her closer to me, and the beast bit itself. Its screams of pain quickly turned into screams of animal rage, and with a twist of its body that was faster than you could believe a beast of its size could achieve, whipped me with its tail and threw me against a large tree that broke due to the impact. My shield left my foreleg, and the monster took advantage of the situation. Fearing the mighty iron I had stroke it with several times before, it crunched it and spat it inside the bog.”   Clenching the cup while showing a deep frown, Megin-gjarð hit himself on the chest with his free hoof. “The beast had invoked my ire and it didn’t even know it, for that shield has been with me for far longer than any other object I’ve ever had. It had helped me to deflect the mightiest blows from the raging Jǫtnar. I had bashed enemy skulls with the same ease a mountain lion bites a fish’s head off. The monster thought I was powerless, and underestimating me would be its doom. For to me, everything I can pick is a weapon on my strong hooves. The tree I had been thrown against served me well as an improvised colossal club. With a powerful swing that hit the beast’s body, I threw it in the air, and what a thunderous sound it made when it crashed on the floor.”   The whole room followed Megin-gjarð’s drinking break. Not a single gryphon refused to pay attention to his story, and Drakkar smiled proudly at it. The males stared at his hófkarl in awe, while every remaining female that weren’t already one step from pouncing all over him had started paying close attention to everything the huge stallion had to say.   Resting the cup on the table, Megin-gjarð resumed telling the story. “And thus I charged against the monster, wielding my new weapon to give death to it. But alas, the creature refused to give up, and so it got up charged against me. I raised the tree to protect me from the attack as the beast started crunching the trunk with all its mouths and spitting large chunks of my weapon. Before it could leave me weaponless for a second time I hurled the tree at it, hitting it in its several necks, trapping them under its weight. The creature struggled to set itself free, but the victory was already mine. Slow as my size forces me to be, I rushed at the monster and rested my hooves heavily on the trunk and pushed it down. The mighty and menacing roars of the beast slowly left room for barely audible grunts as it wasted its remaining strengths in trying to move me from on top of it. It felt as if the struggle lasted for hours, but soon the beast suffocated, all of its heads becoming motionless. The threat that terrified Ponyville was no more.”   Taking a deep breath, Megin-gjarð searched under his ox pelt and showed a necklace made out of fangs. “I jumped into the bog to recover my shattered shield to get it fixed. Once my faithful companion was with me, I fulfilled the oath I mad to my þegn and took several fangs from the deceased beast. When I went back to Ponyville and showed them as evidence of my feats, many cheers boomed throughout the town, and this necklace was crafted from those fangs. Each of them has a rune carved that summons the ferocity of the powerful enemy to aid me in battle.”   Drakkar let out a short sigh as the story was over. Looking at his friend through the corner of his eye, the þegn drank from his own cup. Ponyville wasn’t the kind of place where Fimbulvetrian heroes were openly welcome. It was true that a few of them were happy about being free from the threat, but many more were terrified at the idea of having a neighbor mighty enough to slay a hydra by himself. Heroes seldom had the same treatment in different kingdoms, and the Fimbulvetrian kind wasn’t unappreciated in Equestria, but nopony wanted their relatives or friends to have them as examples to follow. The room exploded in applauses, and even Goliath himself nodded and clapped in unison with the rest of his subjects. With a furious blush, Megin-gjarð took a long sip from his drink. As the palace slowly returned to silence Gorgon’s wings flapped, lifting a gentle breeze that shook the huge stallion’s mane ever so slightly.   “I wonder what you are doing wasting time among gryphons.” The gryphon leaned forward and rested her elbow on the table, giving Megin-gjarð a brazen smile. “Or is this mighty stud looking forward to expanding horizons?”   The huge pony’s eyes opened wide, spitting the wine all over Gorgon and coughing with a thundering echo that resonated across the palace’s main room. While most male gryphons stared at Megin-gjarð and the remaining females threw dire glares at Gorgon, both Géralt and Drakkar covered their mouths with their respective cups to hide their barely contained chuckles.   With lavish eyes fixed on the suffocating stallion, she slowly cleaned the wine off her plumage. “You have the right idea, but wine wasn’t what I had in mind. And don’t worry; my feathers should start moulting in about a week, so you can go wild.” Megin-gjarð slowly recovered, clenching his neck between heavy gasps of air. Once the huge stallion had let out a relieved sigh, a chuckled escaped Gorgon’s beak. She playfully moved her cup in circles before speaking. “It takes much more than that for me to choke myself, you know? Gryphons are quite fond of swallowing things whole.”   Megin-gjarð raised a hoof, looking down at the table while letting out a short grunt. “Alright, enough with that.”   Goliath stood up and clapped his talons together, making everybody in the room to look at him. “We have heard a story that has impressed us, Megin-gjarð. I’m interested in seeing this might of yours in action myself. If your þegn allows it, I’d be honored to have you participating in our Pankration tournament starting tomorrow.”   Drakkar nodded with an approving smile. “He has my permission if he’s willing to do so.”   Megin-gjarð saluted with a hoof to the chest. “I will be honored, Rex Imperator Goliath.”   “Excellent, then!” The large gryphon returned to his seat, leaning back as a couple pony servants rushed to his side and began fanning him.   The huge stallion got up from the tabling, bowing at the king. “If would like to go rest for the night, Your Highness.”   “You may, warrior. May your blows strike true and give us a show to remember.”   Drakkar raised his cup to his friend as Megin-gjarð walked behind him. “We have the camping set where we arrived. I’ll stay here for a bit longer.” As the huge stallion left the palace, the unicorn focused his attention on Gorgon, who followed Megin-gjarð’s walking away with a deep frown.   -o- Megin-gjarð walked heavily under the Moon’s dim light on his way to the camping where the rest of the crew were staying. With a long, audible sigh, the huge stallion looked around him, surrounded by the empty stands at the agora. The only sound was the one his heavy hoofsteps made on the embellished mosaic on the floor. Overlooked at first due to the alacrity of the meeting at Aerie’s Peak, Megin-gjarð looked down and noticed the outstanding craft that represented King Goliath, unarmored, pouncing against a group of fully armed minotaurs. Megin-gjarð’s ears flickered at the sound of something flying over him. He took a defensive stance, bending his four legs, as the visitor landed in front of him with fully spread wings. With a frown, the female gryphon’s chest puffed out, the red on the tip of her feathers becoming slightly more noticeable. The huge stallion blinked, changing to a relaxed position. “Gorgon?” “I know what you’re trying to do, and I hate when males play hard to get.” Gorgon pointed at him with a talon, the plumage behind her neck straightening up. “I don’t know how common that is back in your place, but here things are different. I’ve been the female champion for four years in a row! Every male worth their reputation is begging for me to go with them! And you, slayer of hydras or not, are not going to reject me like that!” Megin-gjarð stared blankly at her, letting himself fall on the pebbly mosaic. As his rump landed on the floor, the air flew out of his lungs. He shook his head before speaking. “You… you really meant what you said at Aerie’s Peak?” “Are you out of your mind?” Gorgon snarled as she stood on her lion legs, opening her talons as her wings flapped to maintain the balance. Megin-gjarð remained motionless while staring at her with widened eyes and a dropped jaw. Despite her angry, heavy breathing and barely contained talons, she stared into his eyes, and the expression of honest awe made her frown fade away. “You… you’re not joking. You really thought that I—” Megin-gjarð closed his eyes shut before massaging his forehead with a hoof. “Gorgon, I honestly beg for your forgiveness if I have offended you. It’s just that…” Drakkar trailed off for a moment, looking around him as a long sigh escaped his lips. “You’re the first female that has ever talked to me like that.” “Oh, come on! You’re a so-called hero in Ponyville!” Gorgon folded her wings, waking around him in an attempt to keep eye contact. “I’m sure you’ve been flirted with. You said it in the story!” “If only that part was true.” With a grunt, Megin-gjarð got up from the mosaic, looking at Gorgon through the corner of the eye. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.” Letting out a roguish smile, Gorgon turned away. “Well, I don’t want my potential breeding partners to keep stuff secret from me.”   The slow, vigorous sound of Megin-gjarð’s hoofsteps came to a sudden halt. The stallion stood on the spot for a moment before turning to face the gryphon. “B-breeding partner?” With a gentle waggle of her lion tail, Gorgon turned to face the stallion, wings fully spread. “Well, of course. Most gryphons aren’t into marrying, but the strongest and most capable of us mate to have the strongest offspring, among other reasons.” The gryphon stretched her body, her chest feathers caressing the ground as her rump remained up high. Her voice changed to a more alluring pitch. “And your beastslaying tale surely earned you the attention of many a female back there.” Megin-gjarð covered his muzzle with a hoof, muffling the chuckle that followed the furious blush. “I’m quite proud of what I did that day, yes.” “So tell me, slayer of monsters, why are you here acting as a bodyguard and not siring a small army of foals?” Gorgon’s playful smile faded when Megin-gjarð looked away from her with a grim frown twisting his face. “I’m considered a monster in my homeland; a cursed spawn with Jǫtunn blood. Rumors started when I was young, and Jǫtunsson… was a common name they’d call me.” The huge stallion snarled as his heavy hoofsteps echoed in the empty agora. “And Equestrians say only that I would not stop growing.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slowly turned with saddened eyes to face Gorgon. “They’re uncomfortable around me as well.” “You still have enough strength to strangle a hydra.” Megin-gjarð walked closer to the female gryphon before sitting in front of her. “I’ve been strong for as long as I can remember, and my large size only made it more obvious to me that I had to be a warrior.” “If I may ask, what does your name stand for?” Megin-gjarð rolled his eyes, letting out a low yet noticeable grunt. “I don’t like to translate my name. It stands for... Power Girdle or something like that.” A chuckle escaped Gorgon’s beak. “A fitting name. And I also like your Fimbulvetrian name better.” Furiously blushing, Megin-gjarð looked away and to the ground. “I… I appreciate your words.” Gorgon rested her spread talons on his chest, pushing him until he fell on his back without offering resistance. With widened eyes, he watched how the gryphon sat on top of him. “And now to the important part.” The sensual smile and lust-filled eyes she shot at the stallion quickened his breathing. Gorgon chuckled at how she heaved up and down while sitting on his chest. “You are going to be part of the Pankration tournament. You have a chance to prove that you are indeed the warrior that can slay a hydra on your own.” The gryphon leaned forward, allowing her feathers to caress his chest as he approached her beak to his ear. “Show me the steel behind your words, beastslayer, and I will show you the mesmerizing wonders that lie between my lion legs.” Resting her weight on Megin-gjarð for impulse, Gorgon took off, turning around to see how the stallion rolled on his belly, looking away with a visible grin.  “No sneak peek? Well, you aren’t getting any either. Anyways, I’ll see you at the tournament tomorrow.” A strong swoop of her wings lifted her to the sky and she disappeared in the distance. Megin-gjarð remained lying on the floor, breathing slowly as he looked around the deserted surroundings. The chilling breeze and the cold stone were both welcome to ease the stallion’s current condition for him to return to his tent to rest for the night.