Fallen-Song

by Chicago Ted

Book of Quarrel, Canto 1

And once forever past, she fin’ly tore
A barrier to the day – although the roar
Of Shade’s Corruption still came pouring in.
She spat the dark slime out. “I must implore,”

She said, “however did the darkness win?
And what becomes, then, of his only kin?
Regardless still, I must find a way out,
Before my chances should grow ever-thin.”

Before the princess laid a land of drought.
The fact she was not home, she had no doubt.
Dry scorching sand had mixt with the dark slime.
If only, she soon saw, she had a route –

For this was desert not known in her time
(But then, Equestria hardly knew such clime) –
To navigate this, she would need a chart.
And standing ’fore her, looking in his prime,

It was the one whom with her did depart.
“O my son,” said he, “that was none too smart,
Conferring with the princess on my ills –
Apothecary is not quite her art!”

He lookt to her, recoiled with spinal chills,
And said, “Yet you are still here, with your skills
Unparallel’d! Now come, let’s seek the gate,
Unless we should find more unwanted thrills.”

“Does that exist?” askt she. “I must debate,
How shall we search amid a land this great?
Have you known of this place before we came?
And should we not succeed, what be our fate?”

The pony laught. “But then, I should not blame
You. Even if this land has not a name,
We’ll strive to reach beyond its boundaries
And head our own ways – let this be our aim!

I do not know of sandy hills like these,
Nor could a pony speak of these dry seas.
I’ve nary time to waste now, nor do you,
So let us get a start on walking – please!

I’d rather not imagine what to do
If we’re to fail, so waste no time. Pursue
This end, and we shall soon again be free.
Now let us take our leave – and see this through!”

“So be it!” Luna said. “To wit, shall we
Roam this together? I see not a tree
To mark our stay, nor water here to drink.
’Tis easy losing yourself in this spree.”

“A swell idea,” the stallion said. “I think
’Tis time we walkt away from this foul ink,
Would you not say?” He firmly pull’d his limb
Out, and they watcht as it began to shrink

Away, into the sand. And on a whim,
The stallion askt, “Was that what sapt my vim?”
“It must be,” Luna said. “Of ev’ry ill,
The Shade’s Corruption is by far most grim.

I’ve seen its outward symptoms, sapping skill
Until its host’s inevitable kill.
Perhaps it’s why you lack your cutie mark!”
She pointed with her hoof, which sent a chill

Along his back. “How long had I been stark?”
Askt he. “Forsooth, this must be quite the lark!
One simply does not lose his expertise.
I was a baker, having seen my spark

Long back, when I and Father made in peace
Our family’s sweet rolls. We saw such increase
In ponies asking for them, in that hour,
Father saw my apprenticeship did cease.

And when we saw away the final plower,
My mane was knotted with a mass of flour.
Yet still, upon my flank I lookt, and saw
My cutie mark, to show my baking power.

This would explain my newfound green, why raw
My goods would oft come out, why on my straw
I’d not get any sleep. Had I known such,
I would have sold the bakery, go draw

The curtains shut, and once I lose my touch,
My son’d be secure, e’en be it not much.”
And Luna nodded. “That is quite noble,”
Said she, “to keep your son’s life in his clutch.

A lesser pony would not be able
To see how futile ’twould be to battle
The Shade’s Corruption. ’Twould indeed be smart
To help him – though this now amounts to null.

Now come! Onward we’ll go, despite no chart
To guide us.” Luna took a step, to part
Wi’ th’ mess. The baker join’d alongside her,
The two of them trailing the guide of heart.

The sand flew through the air and in their fur;
The wind rose up and made their sight a blur.
So far as they could tell, around this place
Nopony was here, not a soul to stir,

Just endless sand dunes out in open space
And scorching heat on them. “O my Grace,”
The baker said, “perhaps you could pull us
Back to Equestria, and this waste erase.”

Then Luna lit her horn, and with a fuss
Of magic, sought her nightly court – and thus,
Tried a way back. Alas, it did not work.
Luck’ly, the baker, he was not captious:

“Then let’s not waste more effort on this quirk,
For my way will produce a prize.” A smirk,
And he continu’d on, with her atow,
For promist gates somewhere to prowl and lurk.

“And what if we should find another, though?”
Askt Luna. He said, “Be they friend or foe,
They’d be in much the same condition here,
So we would try to help them also – no?”

“Perhaps I sound so miserly, I fear,”
Said she, “but ’til our path to home is clear,
We should concern ourselv’s with only that:
To bring ourselv’s back to Equestria – hear?”

The baker nodded. “If this be our chat,
Then know that I am call’d Honeycomb Splat.
And Luna is your name, Princess your style.
I know this conversation may seem flat,

But it will pass time as we walk the while
And keep our company whilst in exile.
It may seem bleak, but do not give up hope!
For with my sharp sight, and your magic guile,

We’ll soon be back in – oh dear, mind the slope!”
To Luna’s shock, as though they stepped in soap,
The two then fell and tumbl’d in the sand.
Then Luna lookt behind her, shouting “Loap!”

They duct their heads whilst rolling ’cross the land –
Forsooth, thir striding did not go as plann’d.
Yet when they stopt, they both stood up unharm’d,
With little more to them than loosen’d strand

Of hair upon their manes. “How those hills swarm’d!”
He said – and though he did not sound alarm’d,
The princess knew that these such perils may
Prove lethal to them. Yet he still was charm’d,

E’er hopeful for the dawn’s release. “But nay,”
She said, “we mustn’t stay our hooves. This way!”
She pointed with her leg. “Were we to win,
We ought to move on forth without delay.”

“But look!” Honeycomb pointed. “To begin,
Why don’t we ask him where? ’Tis not a sin
To talk to others, as we both well know.”
He shook the grains of sand right off his skin,

And Luna squinted, vying for a show
Of whom Honeycomb spoke of, even though
The haze of heat drapt ’cross here, masking all.
They started towards the figure, e’er so slow.

When they came upon him, Luna stood tall
And askt, “Spare you a moment now at all?
We seek a means of leaving this waste too
So we thought to ask you. What be thy call?”

The being blinked. “Nay, you are not true!
No princess dares to be here, be she blue
Or white, not here in desolate heat!”
He shut his eyes, perhaps to cleanse his view.

He lookt and saw them standing there to meet
Him still. “And yet, you two I ought to greet,”
Conceded he. “The name is Glister. Now,
You may imagine you here may be sweet,

Yet I will have you know that, even how
You came here, you should truly not allow.
I’ve roam’d these lands for longer than I know,
Yet how to leave here I cannot endow.

I think you’d also falter as you go;
In winding this path, be you fast or slow,
You’d find the same sand, nary anything
To break the sameness in this shared throe.

Moreo’er, this desert heat may make a spring
From nought, yet when you come upon the thing,
You’ll find it never was! This is my bane,
E’en moreso than a hook within my wing:

I’ve not seen any glint of hope – no rain,
No shade, nought! Ev’rything it seems to feign!
To be trapt here, without relief in sight –
’Tis quite enough to drive old me insane!”

“Perhaps,” Honeycomb said, “To tell us might
Alleviate your pain, if only slight.
If not the way out, then perhaps a tale –
Of how you came her, and what be your plight.”

And Luna added, “On this dusty trail,
I reckon we could stop to hear you wail.
Now speak, O gryphon, we should have such break;
I should believe our lead would not grow stale

In the interim. Tell, what be thy ache?
Start from the start, whate’er time you should take.
We’ll hear the lot of what you have to say,
Now speak! O Glister – it is for your sake.”

The gryphon clear’d his throat, and sans delay,
He said, “If you insist, so come and stay.
My life has not been one you’d call honest.
For many tales I’ve told, but now, to sway,

This one is true (for it is my own), lest
You not believe me anymore. This test
I’ve put upon myself, but I shall pass.
At last, my story shall not be supprest.

In times of verdance, ’round the trees and grass,
I know another realm – and yet, alas,
I sense I lose your focus. Thus, I plead
For you to listen all the same, sans sass.

I’ve much to cover, so I should not need
To speak anew. I shall proceed at speed
For I can tell you are in urgency –
But first, a tale to tell – a tale of greed.”

“Of greed?” ask Luna. “These I know and see:
In ponies, it may turn to fantasy;
In dragons, it would manifest as size;
In gryphons – well, I haven’t seen it be.

To goad them there, perhaps that’d not be wise –
And yet, forsooth, we’re both bound to realize.”
Honeycomb, looking on, took Luna’s guide
And paid attention. Glister lookt to th’ skies.

“Nay. Greedier than I have liv’d and died,
Though part of it’s greed – that I shall not hide.”
He chuckl’d to himself, then clear’d his throat.
“But nay, my tale is one in which I’ve lied.”

“But soft!” said Luna. “Is that how it’s wrote?
And with such tendency, what should we note?
With what you spake, you sow such seeds of doubt –
Of all you’ve told us, which be right to quote?”

“But all of it,” said Glister. “’Tis about
My time, and ev’ry lie is driven out.
I’ll start wi’ th’ origin of my own life,
And end with meeting you within this drought.

In Gryphondale, we once were caught in strife,
All gryphons balanced on th’ edge o’ th’ knife.
To speak the truth would mean your hasty end –
Thus, lying ’mongst the gryphons was soon rife.

I was no different. Neither was my friend,
Dear Gárhef, whom on a whim did extend
A gilded branch to me. And once I took,
He show’d how easy ’twas to join this trend.

So fast bound we, like pages in a book,
Not once could we be separate.” He shook
His head, to gather up his thoughts. “At least,
I thought so – then she show’d his truer look:

He once told me he hailed from the east,
Wherein, supposedly, the lies had ceast.
But he then tried to get at my clan’s gold –
And thus, my distrust had only e’er increast.

From then on, I refused to be so bold –
I’d ne’er ’gain trust another, nor be told
Which things were true and which were simply not.
But furthermore, to pay my debts of old,

I took a path in something highly sought:
In lending gold to others – so I thought:
With how few bother reading charters well,
What differences can these cretins spot?

And thus, in ways that none could ever tell,
I chang’d the charters, and watch’d whilst I tell
They ow’d more int’rest than they thought at first.
I just collect and watch my hoard to swell.

I could ask more, but modest was my thirst.
I sat and pondered – would I be the worst?
For ev’ry other gryphon’s lied before –
So why would I be th’ one to be accurst?

Before long, I saw, came a sudden war,
And Gryphondale then needed gold – and more.
Well, I was all too happy to provide.
But as they fought, my woes soon came ashore:

One day, an auditor then came inside,
Demanding me to show our pact.” He sigh’d.
“With eyes so sharp, he saw what I had done –
And then, I hadn’t anything to hide!

The war rag’d on, yet I was doom’d to run –
Lest they would kill me for what lies I’ve spun.
Regrettably, my clan e’en banisht me –
It seem’d my troubles only had begun.

When I came to their foe, I made my plea.
For my own life, they said, this was their fee:
I make myself effective ’mongst their kind,
But that was all – and I again was free.

But this, of course, meant I was in a bind.
I could not lie t’ them, but watch as they sign’d
New charters. But I had no more clan debt –
So what use had that now? I would soon find

That they were losing the gryphon war yet –
And soon my kin would win, which made me fret.
Would they find me working wi’ th’ villains here?
And if that be, would they my lies forget?

– Of course not, fools!” He laught. “Soon would appear
They had another reason for a smear.
And soon they would string me up by the neck.
I closed my eyes to dark. I felt no fear.

And when I lookt, I saw many a speck
Of sand. So dry! I could not find a beck
From drink from, yet my thirst I could well bear.
With no concerns more, I began my trek.

In this vast wasteland, other beings were rare.
The ones I met were real – or so I’d swear!
And too were those reprieves that’d burst in view,
Then when I’d come, they’d vanish from my stare.

I knew for sure that more had this issue!
Yet when I askt, confusion would ensue.
They had them too, but not as oft as I.”
He stopt, and faced to ask them, “What say you?”

Honeycomb said, “Well, we have yet to spy
E’en one illusion. That dispute must lie
With you, if only you can see them all.
Perhaps you can ignore them, if you try!

You cannot feel your thirst, if you recall,
So why seek you the water? Overall,
You don’t take well to new climes such as these.
Don’t lie about that! Such we’d eas’ly spall!”

“I must agree,” said Princess Luna. “Please,
You have to realize lying like the breeze
Has not done any benefit. Here and now,
You cannot search this wasteland for the trees:

As you’ve done in life, this land would endow.
For lying, certain help would not allow
Itself to show. You’ll always see these sight,
But never once be sure if they are.” “How?”

Askt Glister. “How does it know of my slight,
And punish me then with poëtic blight?”
“Perhaps,” said Luna, “we’ll ne’er know that fact.”
The gryphon shook his head, and said, “Alright,

If this be the best I’d expect – I lact
The honesty of ponies like you – act
Without my load. I’ll sit here sans care,
And let this land its punishment exact.”

“Come,” Luna said, “sit not so idly there!
Atonement’s free to all – ’tis just and fair!”
“But what be the point,” Glister askt, “when here
Seems now to be my newfound sandy lair?”

“I’ve seen so many ponies reminisce
On times of failure. Even the princess
Would lack perfection,” so spoke the baker.
“You can improve; don’t think yourself amiss!”

“The baker speaks the truth,” she did concur.
“Shall you rise from your ashes of failure?”
“I know not,” he confest. “Were I so wise,
I would know not to follow that teacher:

Indeed, if ev’ry other gryphon lies,
Why ought I? I could have don’d ’nother guise,
And be more honest – yet with my clan’s debt,
Would I in my life have reached my prize?”

“I should think so,” said she – which did beget
A gleam of hope upon his face. “Forget
Your visions and your curse – with decent work,
You’d find you had no reason e’er to fret.

I’ve seen so many other ponies lurk
Behind our backs – with wiles they know to murk
Our waters of faith. Many never change,
But you do seem to want to – as a clerk,

Some fairer deals in gold you should arrange,
And not renege on after. This sounds strange,
But trust that good will shall itself proclaim.
Take what you may, and never once estrange.

We seek to leave this land – be this your aim
As well?” “It is,” said Glister. “Whence you came,
Correct?” But Luna shook her head. “I fear
That way has been closed off – O for shame!”

“Indeed,” Honeycomb said. “It would appear
At first that no way out exists. But we’re
Asearch for much the same. Care you to join?”
The gryphon said, “Nay. My own way I’ll steer –

I’d soon slow you – and for what little coin
I’ th’ end? I’d rather stay in my own quoin.
You think that going back is possible –
Yet should you go back, what be your essoin?”

“It would be quite the tale,” said Luna, “quite full
Of tricks and arts, and feats of magical
Prowess.” “Indeed,” Honeycomb agreed, “’twould
Be something worth to see.” “I think that dull,”

Said Glister. “And yet all th’ same, if you could,
Do call for me. I have, within the wood
About your castle, just outside the stone,
Unfinished business on which to make good.”

“We’ll try to see to that, then.” Her vow shone
Bright on the gryphon. Gloom was all he’d known
For such a long time. Now, in strode a chance
To settle his affairs – not just a loan!

He soon found himself in idyllic trance –
Then shook his head, and lookt into th’ expanse.
Askt he, “Will you make good upon your word?”
She nodded. “Yes! Why would we change our stance?”

She chuckled, and again to the half-bird
Askt, “Will you truly not become our third?”
The gryphon rubb’d his eyes to ascertain –
Yet these two standing faded not, nor blurr’d.

“I won’t,” he said, “but may you find it fain –
Be there high sun or, dare I say it, rain.
Old I shall stay and wait for your success,
So farewell! May your powers never wane!”

Honeycomb bow’d, and Luna did no less,
And with their matters settl’d, did progress
Upon their quest. “I think all’s well,” he said.
“I’ve been virtuous all my life, I guess –

I’ve never known a thought within my head
That forct me on to lie about my bread.
Is ev’ry gryphon quite like he? I hope
Otherwise – such interplay I would dread!

I would imagine you’d them in your scope,
For which I must ask – howe’er do you cope?
If ev’ry night I had to hear them gripe,
I’d have no further choice but merely tope!”

The princess laught. “O soft! You speak of tripe.
And I lie not of this, unlike his type.
I simply listen with a grain of salt,
And interrupt them when the time is ripe –

A lot of what they have to say’s quite walt,
And when I do explain why, they all halt.
They can hear reason, once the facts are laid,
And be I wrong, it’d solely be their fault.

Be war their strife, then I would grant them aid.
Just tell the honest word, and you’d persuade –
If only Glister came to nightly court,
Right now he would not for his lies have paid!

Alas, it is too late for him t’ abort,
I fear – but our despair must not distort
Our vision of the path ahead,” said she.
“We shall press on, regardless of what sort

Of tricks and traps the land has set for we –
Even if Glister makes our two not three,
We’ll keep him in our minds, search for that gate,
And see to th’ end of his calamity.”

“I can’t concur more,” said the baker. “Straight
Ahead, I reckon, there may lie a great
Body of water – Yet the gryphon speaks
’Tis not real – these illusions I so hate!”

“Then why not see it?” askt she. “’Twould be weeks
By my count ’fore we’d see the water’s streaks.
How long have we? I do not know – do you?
We’re roaming like another lost soul ekes.

I even doubt still that your gate rings true.
However thy aim ought I to construe?”
“I do not know.” He shrugg’d. “If literal,
It would imagine there’d be quite the queue –

Forsooth, we’re not the only ones so full
Of boredom and despair. But in my skull,
I have a perfect picture of the place.
I’ll point it out to you – is that a gull?”

He lookt up to the sky, and saw it grace
Across and lead along with a slight trace
To flowing water. “How can that exist?”
Askt Luna. “Why the rapid-flying pace?”

“I should not question it,” he did insist.
“It leads to water. How can we resist?”
“Remember Glister’s words,” she firmly told.
“The bird and water may be just a twist,

A mere illusion meant to sway your hold
Upon your goal.” Even as she did scold,
The gull set down beside the flowing stream.
“But then, what harm would there be to behold?”

Old Luna knew illusions from her dream –
She searcht for flaws, for e’en the slightest seam
In th’ fabric of reality. And yet,
She found they both were true. Her eyes agleam,

She turn’d and told the baker, “Do not fret!
Those thing are real, not what the sands beget.
We’ll drink, and then continue to our out,
And help our Glister – him we shan’t forget.”

The baker heard it trickling like a spout.
He drank it deep – deferment from this drought!
The princess join’d him, lapping by his side.
Honeycomb glanct a shade, and gave a shout.

She jerkt her head up, just in time – she spied
A most familiar gryphon, on a glide
Down to the bank o’ th’ stream. “O Glister! What
Brings you to us again?” the baker cried.

“Whatever you’ve done,” Glister said, “my rut
Has disappear’d – this is most fortunate!
If you can cure the others of their curse,
Then my own patience is indefinite!

Forsooth, here live some others, suff’ring worse
Than I. Though I’ve not heard them e’en once verse,
They should all roam the dunes beyond this source.”
The princess askt him, “And ’fore we disperse,

Can you point us on this supposed course?”
He pointed upflow. “Yonder there, remorse
Presents itself in grisly ways. I plead,
Do not show your fright, lest he see you coarse.

From wrath to sullenness to actual greed,
These creatures have these all and more. Now heed:
Push past their scourges – their poëtic pain –
And your pace none of them can e’er impede!

Now fare you well, you misplact ones! Again,
Don’t hesitate to call me once you gain
A passage back to whence we had once come.”
He took flight, scatt’ring sand in Luna’s mane.

She shook the sand grains loose, and gave a hum.
“Should we go follow that?” askt she. “Well, some
Of them might be more than we both can bear,”
The baker said. “’Tis best we both be numb:

Some may have no control over their care,
Or even think their fates have not been fair.
Well, don’t let that distract you, not at all!
Don’t let a bit of that move e’en a hair

Upon your head.” “I note this, but recall,”
Said she, “that Glister pusht aside his fall
From grace, and told a unembellisht tale.
I’m sure we can trust them to curb their gall.

And if we can’t, we’ll leave and call the fail –
’Tis hard enough to hear the gryphon’s wail,
But even I would know t’ expel the one
Who dares to overstep his regal hail.”

And so they walkt, beneath a burning sun,
Not one rul’d by her sister. When day be done
In this land, they knew not, though it had been
Ashine for quite some time. They had to shun

Its fiery light, lest they go blind therein.
“Shoud we have haste?” askt he. “Time may grow thin
And leave us in the dark.” “But then,” she said,
“The gryphon never said a thing of when

The sun may set. We’ll simply have to shed
Our solar warmth whene’er we can. Ahead
We’ll venture ever on, despite the heat
Depleting our own vigor as we tread.”

“O what a benefit would be a sheet
To drape across my hide!” said he. “How sweet
To have but just a moment more of shade.
’Tis hotter than the summer’s village street!”

“Then speak no more.” With her magic, she made
A pair of cloaks for him and her. They sway’d
As they went, flutt’ring in a gentle breeze,
“O thank you,” said he then, “A way t’ evade

The heat and sand – and with such thorough ease!
I’ll swear my life to you, if this would please
My Princess.” “There’s no need to gratify,”
Replied she. “With so few in way of trees,

We leave ourselv’s exposed to the sky.
You’ll need whatever help you can come by,
As would myself. In all my years of reign,
This place has ne’er enter’d Equestria’s eye.

So baker, tell – what make you of this plain?”
“To speak the truth,” said he, “I must refrain
From answering. I haven’t got a clue –
I could conjure a theory, but again,

I say, I’m just as mystified as you!”
He sigh’d. “If only I correctly knew.
But then I’ve not e’er left my humble place –
A baker born and rais’d both through and through!”

“And yet you’ve lookt Equestria in the face,”
Replied she. “I’m sure you’ve seen ev’ry race
Waltz right in, heard a myriad of tales –
Yet none told of one on this merry chase!”

“’Tis true, I reckon, that between the sales,”
Honeycomb said, “I’d heard of trav’ling trails
Unknown to us before. Of course, I never thought
To ask for more – for many were but fails,

And many end so ill. Some ponies ought
To stay at home with family. Who taught
Such fools, these feathertarr’d clowns, I wonder?
As for their journeys – what have they all sought?”

Honeycomb searcht for signs, deep in ponder,
Whilst Luna lookt beyond them. As it were,
They’ve made no progress – still they both were lost.
To pass the time, one such thing came to her:

“If ever, baker, our paths were fore crost,
How would you so react?” The baker glost,
“If I did see you knocking at my door,
I’d welcome you right in – but at what cost?”

The princess laught. “That’s such creative lore!
To see me as a mare – now tell me more:
If I requested something not as sweet
As you would mostly bake, be it a chore?”

“N’ at all, my liege! ’Twould surely be my treat!”
At last, Honeycomb smil’d – a tricky feat
That Luna fail’d in his dream to induce.
She hop’t this moment here she could repeat,

For poor Honeycomb here suffer’d abuse
From Shade’s Corruption far too long. Its ruse
Had left him turmoil’d, utterly confused –
Yet here, he seem’d to have cut his gloom loose.

His grin fell not long after. He excus’d
Himself, with “Well, I must have gotten us’d
To dreariness. I thank you for your bright
Talk. Forgive if I’m unenthus’d –

As nice as ’tis, this calm does not feel right
To me.” To which she said, “Perhaps it might
Be due to Shade’s Corruption, is it so?
You’d likely need t’ adjust to such calm sight.”

“Perhaps ’tis true,” he said. “Now let us go!”
“So be it,” Luna concur’d. Through the throe,
They wander’d off, awaiting certain hope
Of self-salvation. Whilst progressing slow,

The princess kept her thoughts adrift, to cope
With possible forever loss. She could not mope,
Lest her companion do the same as well,
She fear’d – and nearly tumbl’d on a slope

In her own musing. “Why, you nearly fell,”
Said he. “Now come, my Princess; I can tell
That yonder on th’ horizon lies a lair.
We’ll see if Glister’s right, and if this quell

Your somberness.” Such tendencies were rare
For Luna, yet Honeycomb knew. Her air
Of apprehension blatantly was clear
For him to see it well. It seem’d the pair

Was more familiar than she thought – so near
To her his village must have been, a mere
Stone toss from the stone walls. Had they
Crost paths before? She thought it would appear

Not. Still, if it appear’d that they would stay
Forevermore in dusty wastes, its day
Would not burn quite so hot. She had to see
Such brighter sides; she could not stand the gray.

She focust on the sand that stretcht widely
Across her vision. Barren as ’twas, she
Could see some glimmers of some hardy soul
Wilst they explor’d this shore without a sea.

“What would you find when we arrive? What toll
Would he expound to us? And can his soul
Be saved just like Glister’s?” “Save your speech,”
Said Luna. “We’ll soon reach our shared goal.”

“As you insist, my Princess.” This did teach
Him silence – such a treasure both and each
Should well appreciate. With pure silence,
They wander’d onward, sans her to beseech.