• Published 29th May 2012
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High Violet - A. Tuesday



An earth pony attempts to become the first to summit the legendarily dangerous Mount Violet.

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Sorrow

When the doors opened from the covered airship, I immediately longed for the so-called “nippyness” back in Fillydelphia. Would’ve felt like tropical paradise to me.

The doors opened to snow. Tons of snow and blistering, grueling wind. Cold wind. Chills went down my spine and my teeth started chattering fairly quickly. It didn’t make any sense – there was barely a cloud in the sky. The ceiling of the world was as blue as the ocean itself. How could it be this cold?

“The sooner we get to the tent, the sooner we adjust.”

Evergreen boldly marched into the wind, and up the small hill of snow in front of me, the gear sloshing around on his back with him not worrying at all. He’s used to this. Me, not so much.

It was the first, but certainly not the last, time I thanked my hoofboots for shielding my extremities from frostbite. I took a step out into the snow, shielding my parchment-colored head from the elements by burying it in my side.

No, Fourleaf, you’ve gotta get used to it. Hold your head up high. There’s nothing to worry about.

I took a deep breath from my current position, and looked straight ahead, trudging forwards into the snow while other climbers trotted past me like it was just another day at the office. It was. For them.

After what seemed like a half-hour of walking, I covered the 20-foot distance from the loading dock to the top of the snowbank, where Evergreen had been waiting, slightly irritated. As I crested the hill, he murmured something incomprehensible.

“What….what was that?” I panted out to him.

“Welcome to your new home,” he replied indifferently.

I looked straight out in front of me.

Directly in front, the snow faded away to dirt and rocks, where rows upon rows of campers’ tents of various sizes waited for the right ponies to fill them. Flags were stationed around certain ones, and all sorts of ponies – and, mountain goats, it looked like – were milling about the place. I spotted a blue flag with our logo in black on it by one tent – Casa del Team Hoofboots.

On the other side, over to the right, high above the rest of the flags, a mountain loomed over everything. “Tall” was an understatement.

Just looking at the thing made me feel like an ant. Like an ant’s ant. No wonder you needed oxygen tanks up there – you were probably in space at that point. How did anyone get up there at all? The air pressure…I couldn’t imagine. I didn’t know too much about it, but I knew it thinned out past a certain point, at least according to the brief mountaineering science lesson Evergreen had given me on the ride over.

Even now, I noticed the change. I had been taken to events in Cloudsdale before, via hot air balloon – and air thinned out there, but never like this. Taking a deep breath like the bracing one I took earlier gave me just about as much oxygen as a regular breath did in Baltimare.

Evergreen stood, rock-steady. I began to think of him as a sort of show-off, even though he wasn’t really doing anything wrong. He inhaled deeply.

“It’s good to be back,” he said to nopony in particular. Then, to me: “Come on, Four – let’s get you situated.”

The tent flapped open and slightly warmer air greeted me. Smiling, I trotted in at a quicker pace than normal, taking a slightly-less oxygen-induced sigh of relief at the air, and, not-looking, walked straight into some unicorn who had been just sitting there.

All my stuff fell to the side and forwards with varying crashes, some just barely missing the unicorn’s head as I tried to make sure that I wasn’t one of the things falling on him.

What resulted was me over this poor, scared unicorn, just hovering over his body by placing my rigid hooves around him in such a way that I could let go and fall directly on top of him. Our eyes locked in initial fear.

And then a terrible awkwardness settled in.

I sprung off my hooves, reeling back as my eyes widened in embarrassment rather than fear. My cheeks exploded with red. Dear Celestia, I don’t even know who that was!

A chuckle came from the opening of the tent. “Seems you’ve gotten acquainted nicely already,” Evergreen’s voice wafted over.

“You’re not funny!” I yelled back rather hastily.

“Evergreen!” the voice of the unicorn I scared half to death resounded, “How goes it in Fillydelphia?”

His crooning voice could only be described as an adventurer’s. It wasn’t a Trottingham-esque voice – it retained a level of speech almost mirroring Canterlot regality, but with all the comfort of a Ponyvillian’s or a Baltimarian’s, something which Canterlot ponies didn’t possess. It also sounded weathered, but yet still young.

Then, there was Evergreen’s beach-stallion, stereotypically adolescent voice, which seemed like a combination of Generation X and, although you didn’t hear it from me, possibly some narcotics. It ruined the air the unicorn’s voice had put together. “It’s been good, Vanderlyle. Been good. This,” he said, pointing a hoof to my still blushing self, “is Fourleaf, our earth pony partner. You two’ve gotten quite close, as I’ve seen.”

“Always the comedian,” Vanderlyle chortled, shaking his snow-white mane. It seemed to flow over his deep purple fur at just the right consistency. “But, not close enough, I don’t think.”

I began looking around the room in confusion. W-what?

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take her for a stroll around camp, show her around. She’s a bit of a virgin to the climbing game, isn’t she?”

I turned to face them, having faced the wall of the tent all the way up until that point. His choice of words was a bit…unsettling to my ears. But, before I could say anything, Evergreen whined, “But, I was about to – “

“Oh, you’ve had fifteen hours with her, haven’t you? Besides, there’s quite a lot of gear scattered about.” To emphasize this, he held out a hoof and began moving it about the mess that I had created. “Wouldn’t want anything to get misplaced. I’ll take her for a walkabout, and you can, erm…tidy up.”

The purple stallion looked to me, now. His eyes were deep blue pools of complete entrancement. Sounds escaped his throat.

“What?” I asked, stirring myself out of my reverie.

“I said,” Vanderlyle repeated, “You wouldn’t mind a look-see, now would you?”

“Oh, no,” I replied calmly. Then, hurriedly, “I mean, yes! No, wait, I mean – no?” I shook my head. “Yes, I would like to be shown around.” Damn it, Fourleaf.

“Ah, good. Come on, why don’t we get this done and out of the way now, eh? While your friend cleans up around here.”

I looked to Evergreen, who now glowered at me. “Oh, no, really, I could get it – “

“No, no,” Vanderlyle cooed, “It’s quite alright. He’s perfectly fine with getting it.”

For me, personally, it was hard not to be swayed by that voice. “Alright, then.”

And together, we walked out of the tent, hearing Evergreen grumble to himself behind us.

“So, where are we going, um…”

“Vanderlyle.”

“Oh, right. I’m Fourleaf. I’m so sorry, I usually don’t forget names…”

“You’re awful jumpy,” the violet stallion noticed, “Is there something bothering you?”

“Oh, I…I don’t know,” I explained, as we trudged through the path on Vanderlyle’s “tour”. “Maybe it’s the climb. Never really been on one before.”

“Really?” Vanderlyle stopped in his tracks. “Never?”

“Nope. Unless you count Mount Rushmare.” I gave him a small smile. “But most ponies really don’t.”

“So, then – why did you decide to come along?”

Now I stopped. I stared at the dirt on the ground, hoping the answer would spring out of it. “I…I don’t know. I guess I just wanted the adventure. I’m an adventurous kind of girl. Used to read the Daring Do books all the time as a foal.” This was true, and the rest of it was a half-truth. I did read Daring Do as a foal – but, as for the mountain climbing, it was 50% adventure, 50% money.

Vanderlyle chuckled. “Ah, yes, Daring Do…I was quite the fan myself. But, I digress. You asked where we were going, didn’t you? We’re just taking a short walk about Base Camp – if anything’s important, I’ll point it out to you.”

I nodded slowly. I was alright with this setup.

And, walking commenced again.

The dirt felt slightly bumpy beneath my specialized hoofboots. And the air still felt colder than the stares some ponies give you in Manehattan, but you adjust after awhile. Even the air pressure difference ceases to exist. You automatically overcome that one.

A wind gust blew past as we rounded our “block” of tents, which was really just a row of them. As we got past them, Vanderlyle stopped outside of a pastel yellow tent with a flagpole in front. At the top of the flag, a sun gleamed over a white background. The Princess’s cutie mark.

“Is…” I stammered, trying to put two and two and two together, “Is that?”

“No,” the stallion chuckled, “That’s not Celestia. That’s a pretty big competitor, though. Called ‘Team Harmony’.”

As if on cue, a bouncing pink pony jumped out the tent, yammering away about something or other to a groggy, cyan pony, who seemed to be bearing her talkativeness like it wasn’t anything unusual. As they walked out to the front, a purple unicorn poked her head out from the tent, past the pegasus’ rainbow-colored tail, looking around for something.

“That unicorn there is the Princess’s personal protégé,” Vanderlyle noted, “She knows a bit or two about mountaineering as well.”

“Really?” I didn’t even know the Princess had a protégé. Might be tough to beat.

We continued our tour. Vanderlyle pointed out various things here and there – the mess hall, tents where some of his old climbing buddies were staying, and the local mountain goat housing.

“They practically live on the mountain,” he went on, “They’re really fantastic assistants, if you can pay one or befriend one, and they’re almost a necessity to navigate Violet.”

“Gosh. How do they even live up here?” I had been in and out of focus, but this entered my interests fairly quickly. How could anything survive here?

“They’re born and raised here. They’ve adapted. It’s pretty neat, if you ask me.”

“I’ll say. Do…do we…?”

“Do we have one?” He looked at me with those blue eyes of his, smiling. “Of course. He’s an old friend of mine. Go way back. He doesn’t seem to be here at the moment, though…”

I looked for another moment at the mountain goat housing, before some movement appeared in the corner of my eye. Following it, I turned to the left and noticed a large tent, like the one we and Team Harmony had, and a flagpole to represent the team. If you had a flagpole, it meant you were part of the Equestrian Athletics competition.

The flag was weird. It was a crudely drawn letter “A” – done on purpose to look as if it had been written by hoof. It was jagged towards the top, with the line in the letter extending past either end and slightly past the circle that surrounded the letter. The red symbol was the only thing pasted against the black background.

I pointed a hoof towards the flag. “Do you know this team?”

Vanderlyle turned from the house to me, then with a puzzling look on his face followed my hoof. “Do I know this…”

He trailed off. I expected his jolly, adventurous voice to ring out again. But it didn’t.

I turned to him, and the expression on his face turned to one of pain. I cocked my head to the side. “Vanderlyle?”

“That,” he began sternly, “Is the Black Mountaineers. And I do not know what they are doing here.” That was all he left it at. From the look in his eyes, I didn’t dare question it further. It seemed to trouble him, and I didn’t want to worry him any further.

The tour came back into my mind. I desperately wanted to get him out of this state – in the few minutes I had known my soon-to-be close companion, I found it was a lot of fun to see him happy, then when it wasn’t. “Was there anything else you wanted to show me? On the tour?”

He looked down at the ground, pulled out of his trance. Then, with the smile I had hoped for, he looked at me. “Why, yes,” he said coolly, “There is just one more thing.”

The monster shadowed the entire encampment. It was a bit away – looked like a bit of a trek to the base camp on the higher part of the mountain, but it still cast a shadow over all our tents. Snow-capped and jagged, the beast grew out of the ground like an unkempt weed. Its purple hue was what got me – so odd, so out of place, so majestic. Kinda like Vanderlyle’s fur.

I didn’t just say that.

“There she is.” His words hung in the air, lingering in the ice-cold winds. “The Purple Monster. High Violet. The Mountain of Sorrow. Mount Violet.”

My jaw hung open slightly. This thing was big. All its nicknames stood true to what they referenced – they probably understated it a bit, too.

I had heard them all before – even the one, “The Mountain of Sorrow”, though that one I didn’t quite understand. I asked Evergreen on the ride over – he didn’t know.

So, I asked Vanderlyle. “Why is it called the Mountain of Sorrow?”

He continued to stare at the beast birthed from the ground. “Probably because of what an obstacle it is. The mountain lets you climb, but it takes a toll charge. You’ll come down, injured, without prized possessions, possibly betrayed by friends, other…team members…” He seemed to pause, sort of like Evergreen did when he mentioned he didn’t make it to the summit.

The stallion shook his head, and then continued. “But most of all because when you come down, you tend not to come down with everybody you went up with.”

Then, silence. He just ended it there, leaving a really awkward moment hanging in the empty space in Base Camp. I turned to look at him. The stallion just stared at the mountain. No emotion, not happiness, or sadness – pure indifference, if I’ve ever seen it.

I nudged him on the shoulder. “Is there something wrong?”

He kept his gaze for only a moment longer, before turning to look at me. “No, not really…doesn’t pertain to you, necessarily.”

I glanced sideways at the dirt beneath my hooves. “You sure? I mean, I did take a psychology class in high school, just saying.”

He let out a reassuring laugh. To me, more than him, that everything was alright. “I don’t think I’m in need of that much help.”

He let out a mournful sigh. “I haven’t attempted this mountain since I was…a sophomore in college, must’ve been. It was then that I found out why it’s called the Mountain of Sorrow.”

More silence ensued. I was tempted to ask him what happened, but I decided not to pry. Now, a sort of remembrance took over his face. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked towards the direction of the camp.

Following his eyesight, I saw where it led to: the eerie flag of the Black Mountaineers.

I turned back to Vanderlyle, who was still glaring intently at the flag, like it was some sort of pest that wouldn’t go away. Or, like it was some large monster that he wished would leave. At this point, it was hard to tell.

Curiosity got the best of me. “What’s up with those guys over there?”

Unwavering, “They’re not ponies you really want to go climbing with, per se.” his gaze came back down to me. “I wish you weren’t so likable.”

What?

I lifted a hoof as I leaned back. This was not expected. At all. “Excuse me?”

“Well, if you were dislikable, I wouldn’t care so much that you were climbing with us.”

He turned his head to the side, his deep blue eyes inviting me to stare again. “But, you are. I’m worried you won’t come back down with us.” Then, after a slight pause, “Hell, I’m worried that any of us won’t come down.”

I righted myself again. It was hard to tell, but I think he just complemented me. I tried to reassure him. “I’m sure we’ll all be okay. You said your last climb was as a sophomore? You probably have a couple years under your belt. With your expertise – “

“Fourleaf,” he interrupted, using my name for the first time in such a way that it gave me butterflies, “Just how old do you think I am? I was in Evergreen’s graduating class at West Manehattan U.”

I tried calculating this in my head. “Well, that….that puts you at…my Celestia, you’re only three years older than I am?!?!”

“Would appear so.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that so shocking to you?”

“Don’t know,” I admitted, “Your voice, I guess. The ‘weathered-from-adventure’ look. I figured you were older.”

Vanderlyle raised his shoulders in a sort of shrug, and decided not to question it further. He and I began walking our way back to the main center of the encampment.

As we walked, he mentioned nonchalantly, “That puts you in college, I suppose.”

I nodded.

He acknowledged that I answered in the affirmative. “I would figure such. There’s a lot of college ponies who want to try to summit Violet.” After a short laugh to himself, Vanderlyle looked out at me from the corner of his eye. “Who knows? Maybe I won’t have to worry about you as much. I doubt any pony or force of nature would hurt a college pony as cute as you are.”

My cheeks burned a terrible red. “Aw, thank you.”

He was pretty attractive himself, but I wouldn’t tell him that.

Not yet.

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Sorrow - High Violet
Chapter Two inspired by extended listening to this song. Enjoy.

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