Icon: Remnants of the North

by Vixavior

Act 4- Chapter 7: Frozen Hymns

Frozen Hymns
Proofread by TehSporkBandit

---

”Here, in here!" The malice-laden voice of the Gremlin rings in your ears as its sharp claws bite into your arm. Another jabs you in the back with a crude hatchet, goading you none-too-gently into a rather plain looking room in a nondescript hall two floors beneath the throne room's audience chamber.

It isn't a cell like you expected, rather, it seems more like an empty room renovated with a fresh coat of paint. It is plain and dull: whitewashed walls surround you, a primitive wooden pallet bed rests in the corner as if cowering before the open expanse of the rest of the room, a pewter chamber pot idly sits like a decorative urn, and a rickety three legged stool stands out against a bare wall as if not wanting to associate with the rest of the furniture. Another jab with the primitive axe drives you farther inside the stone prison before the door slams shut.

“Hey!” You rush back to the door and slam your balled up fist on the wooden panels, “This isn’t what Ulf said would happen! Those ponies are supposed to belong to me now!” They'd hate hearing it, but at least they would be protected by the deal… no doubt furious, but protected. You rap against the door again, “Do you hear me out there?!”

The door rocks back on its hinges, bowling you backwards as an Applejack is hastily flung into the room. Several shabbily cloaked Imps appear in the doorway wielding makeshift weapons from crude kitchen cleavers to tiny pronged window poles. Nervously nipped lips and small rivulets of sweat betray the impish guards; not one wanted to confront an enraged tiger. And with the soot streaks stippled across her coat, Applejack was a fairly close approximation of that exact creature. None of the dozen Gremlins packed in the hall behind that doorway wanted to be confined in the same room as her. You could see it as they quickly haul the rope ends out, one even swings a dying wicker torch at her to say 'stay back!'

Even as the stars clear from your clouded vision, the hefty weight rises up off your chest. Applejack's near mocking laughter rings to the molded ceilings and harshly echoes in your ears, “Ya'll are pretty good when ya' got a pony all trussed up like a Canterlot miser's purse at a gala! How ‘bout ya’ll come back here and try yer luck again when ya wash all that yella’ off!” As the guttering torch is once more shoved to her muzzle, she distastefully looks at it and snuffs it out with a single huff. The Gremlin's eyes open wide as saucers as Applejack tenses and threateningly leans forward. The creature clambers back over itself, tossing the spent torch behind it as it beats a bumbling retreat.

You slowly get to your feet and pat yourself off. “Where's Flutter-”

The door swiftly springs open again as another pony is spat out from the hallway before the portal is sealed up again. The Pegasus neatly skids across the floor as you sidestep the next proverbial 'strike' waiting to happen, “Wooaaaah there.”

Fluttershy meekly steps back as Applejack awkwardly rushes the door only to be rewarded with the scrape of metal and a loud thump. The halter and ropes slow her, but she turns and bucks against the door once before giving up. She hits it with a forehoof in frustration, then prods it again as she presses an ear to the wood. “Solid bar. Hmm, ain’t no knocking that down if its staples are pinned in the stone.” You were sealed inside your prison.

You gently pat Fluttershy's side and nod towards the bed, letting her take it as you stalk around and pull up the three-legged stool that would be exceptionally uncomfortable for a pony, and is notably too small for yourself.

Thanks to a single oil lamp hanging by a peg, you can at least see, though it isn’t helping with the warmth. Frost creeps over the wall like vines and your breath billows out in frigid ice clouds. Thankfully, there is a hearth in the back of the room along with a reasonable supply of dessicated wood piled against it. That seems to be the only comfort in the desolate room. Rubbing your arms, you stay nearer to the oil lamp, though it can’t be too comfortable for either of your pony friends either.

Applejack struggles with the rope halter for a moment before knocking her hat off and unwinding the material that the rope had fouled itself in. “Confangled rope! More knotty than a hawthorn.” You stoop to offer her a hand as she twists and turns in frustration.

“Here, I’ll get it” The rope crosses in and over itself in two different ways, forming a rather convincing Gordian knot.

“We’re trapped.” Fluttershy sniffs and tearfully looks around, “No windows, we’re so close and we’re trapped…” her squeak trails off ignobly. She wasn't wrong.

“Trapped nothin'. Rainbow an' Pinkie'll get us out. Always do.” Applejack nods and quickly sets to tearing at the rope as she miserably shakes her forehoof in frustration.

Picking apart one knot actually helps with most of the others as you untangle one of the leads just enough for another to form and make the whole thing worse. It gets a frustrated sigh as Applejack calls out, “Hold it! Just… stop what yer doin’ for a second there. Ah got an idea. Here.” She flicks her hoof up, kicking her stetson onto your head like a game of horseshoes. It even spirals around before drooping over your brow where it slips down over your eyes. Evidently, she has a bigger head than you. “Hold that and don’t let go.”

She paws at the rope loop around her neck as you obediently crouch down in front of her and hold the loop as wide as you can. Twisting and squirming, Applejack manages to jerk and spastically pull back until she’s slipped off most of the ropes by sliding out from the protective cloth wrapping her up. In a few seconds she is free from her material cocoon and has only a pair of socks on her hind legs. The farm pony quickly shakes out her mane, freeing the filigree ends of her glittering golden locks, tossing them back over her shoulder with a tired but satisfied grin as if to say ‘got it.’ “Thanks sug-uh… oops.”

The serpentine twist and myriad of labyrinthine turns had freed her only to find your arms bound up despite a few quiet protests of 'just a sec' that you'd mouthed. You hold up the tangled mess as she giggles, even Fluttershy's sniffs are spaced out with a bubbly trill of a laugh. You flash her a smile, “Yeah, don't worry about it. Listen, AJ, I’m… well, I’m sorry.”

“Fer what?” That catches you off guard as you assumed she’d be angry, like on the train.

“Well, for not going inside and getting Twilight so we’d be done with thi-”

She waves your concerns away with a hoof, “Ya didn’t even know if that door was locked. Besides, ah reckon’ he wasn’t jokin’. Ya’ did yer best and that’s all we can ask. Trust me, if’n anypony knows that, it’s me.” She pads up to you and gives you a soft, good-natured punch on the arm. “Hey, after what happened… well, we're still here for ya', too. Ain't that right?” She quickly looks to Fluttershy who smiles weakly through tear-stained eyes. The Pegasus stands and flits over, giving you a hug instead of a verbal response. Applejack wraps a foreleg around your neck, too.

Applejack leans her face in close and hums quietly as she brings her face in, her breath washing over your face as her muzzle creases into a grin.

What the hell is she doing. She can't, she isn't, she's not...!

Her muzzle changes course as she cranes her neck up, then bites the brim of her hat situated squarely on your head, sending it flipping up with a simple flick. It cartwheels through the air and lands on her brow, perched perfectly and jauntily in place.

“Thanks again pardner.”

You cough to cover up the burgeoning blush on your cheeks, “Yeah, I make a first rate hat rack.”

“Yep, and a first rate friend.” The farm mare bobs her head looking Fluttershy's way, “Ain't that ri-”

“Shhh.” The mare lifts a hoof to her lips and silences her friend. Applejack's bright green eyes seem to mist over as her jaw drops, completely dumbfounded as Fluttershy's muzzle twists up into a wry grin. A sparkle in her eyes gives it all away as she gingerly points upwards and whispers, “Listen.”

You cast Applejack a glance as if to say ‘do you hear something?’ but she just flicks her ear up and listens with a slowly spreading grin as she bites her lower lip. As you slip closer to the open fireplace a cold downdraft of air makes the room like an icebox. Still, you narrow your eyes in concentration and listen.

“Daaaaarling, it’s cooold outside.”

You strain to hear but a pony’s hearing is still better than your own, but with that frigid air comes a soft, lilting tune.

“This evening's been, anything but niiiice.”

The familiar little ditty worms its way into your mind as the first few flashes of clarity dawn on you.

“Please hold my hooves, they’re cold as iiiiice.”

Rarity!

“My sister will start to worry…”

Finally, unable to keep her silence, Applejack chortles and calls up the flue with a cupped hoof, “Hey Rarity, you got a beau up there ‘r somethin’?”

“Beautiful, what's your… Applejack?!" There’s a sudden scramble of hooves across a carpeted floor, “If you’re just in my head, then kindly take yourself to the curb, I’ve had quite enough of you!” Sure enough, the fashionista’s voice echoes down the chimney. “But if that’s really-really you…” her haughty indignation gave way to cautious optimism.

“It’s really us, Rarity. Well, most of us.” Applejack’s reply is loud enough to make your ears ring, but she scoots over enough for you to look up the hearth as well. Further up the chute is a slight bend as the chimney twists to the side, but you can still see the faintest dusty grey of the mountain sky. Moreover, you can see the cast iron grate about fifteen feet up. It’s like an antique grill over a window, peppering you with light and ash. “You alright?”

“Am I alright? The food is atrocious, I can’t possibly take a shower, there’s nothing even remotely interesting as far as inspiration goes, and I’ve been living in fear of what could happen to me since I got here!” Her voice trails off as it echoes in the chimney for a few more moments.

“So, aside from your fire going out, it’s as good as it could be?” Applejack calls back with a particularly smug grin. Her shoulders slump and her back slopes a little like all the tension had poured out of her. Her eyes close, her smile stretches from ear to ear, and her chest puffs out as she takes a deep rejuvenating breath.

“We’re so very glad you’re alright, Rarity.” Fluttershy’s long shaky breath mirrors the same tone as Applejack’s.

“Is there anything up there? I mean, anything that’s different.” You call out muttering, “RD and Miss P are C-L-O-S-E.”

“Why’d ya’ spell that out?”

“... I was hoping hoping that Gremlins were too stupid to understand.” Both mares break into unrestrained laughter at your attempt at secrecy. You try to hide the smile of relief and temporary respite from the world, “Well I don't see what that-” a swift rap at the door ends it all. The wooden beam is quickly pulled free with a rusty scrape as all three of you quickly back away from the hearth.

An impish head pokes inside, “You, Hetja Ulf will sssee you.” It bares its fangs amidst the nervous shuffle of clawed feet just out of sight in the hallway. Actually, that awkward scuff is a little reassuring, as if meant the Gremlin had simply plastered on the scariest face it could in an attempt to cow you into submission.

You are quickly stopped as a hoof touches your side. Looking back, you see Applejack looking up at you with an expression as clear as words, ‘are you sure you want to go?’ At any other time she’d probably protest more vocally, but the thought of leaving Fluttershy or Rarity alone likely quietened her objections.

You pat her hoof, “I’ll be fine. If he wanted to get rid of either of you or me, I think he’s had his chance. Twice.”

Fluttershy slips over, ostensibly to give you a nuzzle, but it is principally so no one could hear her whisper, “We’ll see if we can find a way out. You go on, before Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash get excited.” A second more genuine nuzzle sends you on your way. You hurry off to the door, which opens only briefly to let you through before summarily slamming shut.

“So, what now?” You ask the small pack of Gremlins that nervously shuffle around you. They don't say a thing, rather, they merely hem you in with their assorted array of rusty implements and dilapidated weapons. From meat hooks to pick hammers, knives, axes, and lengths of gnobbled hawthorn branches, each seems to hover around you, wielded by a wide-eyed Gremlin who quails when you look directly at them. One more of the gangly, dark hooded figures glides silently by among the band's rear-most ranks. Despite the living finery of Raven plumage, the Carrion Lord walks without a stoop or bow. It flashes you a single fanged grin. Iblis.

“My my, if it isn't the Nithinger himself that decided to pay us a visit. The Crystal Eyes cometh. Welcome, weeeeelcome to the carrion city of New Trondheim.” The loathsome fiend twirls his hand and bends a knee in a courtly mock bow. “I only wish I could have been the one to greet you when you first arrived. I'd have liked a few moments to catch up. Oh, I've been so very-very eager to see you again.” His venomous tone drops even further as the smile grows wider, “You can't imagine, I'm sure. Likewise, I'm sure we can relive some old, fond memories when Ulf is done with you.”

He flicks a claw up towards his neck, a rusty sickle slides past the skin of your collar, its tip tickling the underside of your chin, halting anything you might have to say. Iblis ghosts behind you, a jagged claw tracing over your back and shoulders as he whispers, “But I see you got my message after all. Charming…” he crooks a pair of fingers and waves the band forward, “Come you-heh, righteous lot. We wouldn't want to keep Ulf waiting.” A sharp prod in your back might have even broke the skin as you twitch away from what feels like a dagger point.

Author's Note:

Naturally, the little ditty is a parody of Frank Loesser's Baby its Cold Outside. Blame one too many Bing Crosby movies for that one showing up