Fallen-Song

by Chicago Ted

Book of Quarrel, Canto 5

By now they would have gotten ust t’ how sore
The sand had chokt their throats – so they would pour
Their cloaks around their faces, try to hide
Their eyes and mouths from drouth. She would abhor

Black Widow’s deeds in life, and how she tried
To trick the two so cruelly. Luna sigh’d –
Such disappointment, stemming from her view
She made for them – this strike upon her pride

Should happen not again. – Would fears prove true,
That there was truly nought that they could do?
Were they stuck here, adrift forevermore?
She hoped not, for th’ moon’d be rais’d by who,

If not her? Dear Celestia – what a chore
It’d be for her, both sun and moon to soar
Into the sky at her arcane command.
She’d not relinquish her control, she swore,

For what might she do in that case? – The sand
Distracted her enough to lose thought, and
She soon as well regain’d her sanity.
Perhaps, surmis’d she, I would have to stand

If Sister Dear need take o’er my duty,
For if not me, then who would go to see
It done? I truly trust no other one
To do my lunar duty properly.

Were she in my place, I would never shun
Her solar contract either. ’Tis no fun
If night be all they know, much as I’d want
That dark reality – they need her sun

Just as they need my moon, e’en if it haunt
Their interval of dark. – So nonchalant
She seem’d to th’ baker, that he had t’ inquire
If she was well. “Of course!” said she. “I daunt

Nought at all – yes?” She sigh’d. “I am no liar:
I cry, e’en though my eyes could not be drier,
A’ th’ prospect of my sister left alone
Without me to raise the moon ever higher.”

“I should consider myself lucky, prone
To simpler life. At least when wind has blown,
’Tis not full of sand, as is here the case –
My old life was as boring as a stone.”

“O soft!” said Luna. “You spoke of that chase
’Twixt you and that mage, long ago.” “A place
I’d rather quite forget at once,” he said.
“Pray, do not conjure that for me to face

Again. I’ve tried so long to clear my head
Of that thing. To remember – this I dread.”
“Quite well,” said she, and spoke no other word,
But just continu’d onward. Up ahead,

She noted quite a sharp drop. There, she heard
Her voice echoing o’er and o’er, which stirr’d
In her a deep disturbance. If she fell
Within, her fears would truly be answer’d

With certain death. Honeycomb lookt as well,
And noted much the same chill in his swell.
“We’ll have to cross this somehow. I know not
Of how to do this.” There he sat to dwell

Upon an answer – yet to him came nought
That he could use. He had no rope to knot,
Nor slab of stone, nor log nor board of wood.
“I’ve nary,” he declar’d. “If you’ve soon sought

A good solution yourself, if you could
Bring forth some magic somehow – ” “Very good!”
She cried. “You came upon it on your own –
And more, ’tis better far than what I should

Conjure myself. Now hold.” The wind had blown
A bit of sand between them, fine and roan.
Then Luna lit her horn, and cast th’ arcane
Mechanics which would bring them where was shown.

A moment later, they got through the strain
Of teleporting. This was one thing plain
As a solution, yet to Luna hard
To do as habit true. She’s oft abstain

From using magic once she cast this – marr’d
By mere exhaustion, she would oft be jarr’d
If she was askt again to cast it soon.
And yet, she did not have the royal guard

To keep the peace for her. The stable noon
Did start to wear upon her. Her own moon
She longed for, but never could attain.
How then, she wonder’d, had Celestia hewn

Tranquility when night was much her bane?
But then, it’d be in much the same old vein
As her aversion to the light of day.
Of course, she’d have to stand the scorching pain

Of day, and seek the shade to cool. She’d pray
She’d find some soon, though clearly not to stay –
She knew she still had quite the quest in front
Of them. – As if to answer, there did lay

A grove of palms, asway i’ th’ wind. A grunt,
And she pusht herself on for a moment
More, until she and he both reacht their prize.
They sat beneath the shade, which bear’d the brunt

Of th’ heat beneath these clear and sunny skies.
She dug her hoof in th’ sand, to she’d realize
A water-trickle, e’er so slight. The thirst
Then manifested itself – ’fore her eyes

Was that sweet liquor. Carefully she nurst
The silent gentle flow – since she was first,
She took her fill before she let him go.
The sand was little concern – far fro’ th’ worst:

When fac’d with sandstorms or heat, there was no
Comparison for them. “How did you know
That water would flow here?” he askt. “How did
You bring it forth from drouth to mouth? Do show!”

“’Tis simple,” she replied. “How else, amid
These sands, would these trees grow? That flow is hid
Beneath us, where the roots would pull it out.
But stay your greed now, lest these trees be rid

Of their lives.” “Yes, of course – I have no doubt
That they bear first claim to this waterspout.
We are but guests here, two of multitude
Who wander just as lost on unseen route.

O Princess Mine, I mean not to be rude,
But given that we felt no thirst accru’d
In our throats, was this stop so meaningful?”
“Forsooth, I now find our temptations slough’d –

Lie not to me, I know this flow would dull
The same within you. See this not a lull
In vigor, but relief from that high heat.
Even if our thirst does amount to null,

It still doth bring us some relief so sweet.”
“I do suppose that’s true,” he said. “A treat
Like this we ought to savor, for we might
Not find another like. – And should we meet

Another soul, should we bring e’en a slight
Amount with us?” “We shall not do – despite
Your kindness, you first ought to live, of course,
To give it even; it would not be right

If you should put the cart before the horse.
Now come, finish your drinking from this source;
Away we’ll go.” And once he rais’d his head,
She pull’d him to his hooves, and mov’d with force

Much greater than before. Her wing was spread
To wean him off the shade – and yet, instead,
He took to warmer sand around the pair.
“I should think you in high mind,” Luna said.

“I am, of course!” replied he. “Cooler air
Around my muzzle and my hoov’s – sans care
I am in this time – for you would be, too;
You ought to feel this – wait, what’s that o’er there?

Where pointed he, she squinted her eyes to
See what he spotted there. Indeed, she knew
So many glimmers soon, a shining great
That even Vambrace would soon spot. Its hue

Outshone the sun above. “What things await
Us there?” askt he. “What be this gilded fate?
I say we head there; it might be a sign.
If time grows short, let’s pray we’re not too late.

What think you? Be this venerated shrine,
Or something more? What’d even be more fine?”
“I do not know,” she said. “Let’s take our leave
And see to it, if you would so incline.”

As they went, he said, “The things I conceive
Of what would lie beyond – would you believe
If it turn’d out to be another lost
Soul like us?” “Certainly I would achieve

This thinking, since thus far we did accost
Three others out here. O, it would exhaust
My efforts if we meet a pony there – ”
“Soft, Princess Mine; I’m sure you’ve only crost

Yourself,” Honeycomb said. “’Twould not be fair
For th’ other if we came with such an air
Of arrogance.” She took his words in stride,
And curb’d her mood. Perhaps she didn’t care

Still, yet the baker saw she would abide
All the same. If she cast her doubts aside,
As he had hopt, they stead’ly go forward
And see the source – and once they’ve peer’d inside,

His curiosity would be humor’d,
And Luna’s patience nary may be stirr’d.
As they both closer drew, the gleams grew high;
They both soon had to squint, lest their sight blurr’d.

“How further ’way is it?” he askt. “By sky
Above, this light does pierce into my eye!”
“You told me you had t’ see it!” Luna told.
“Well, it comes close now.” She then gave a sigh

Into a passing wind-gust. O how bold
This baker was, to see each gleam untold
As hope for their salvation to their land.
If this in fact turn’d out to be their wold,

The she would eat every grain of sand
Here. She was sure that this’d not be as plann’d,
For that would be too easy for the two.
They’d simply find nothing, and move on – and

If, on the off-chance, he was right, this clue
She’d be bewilder’d by. By now, their view
Of their goal was obscur’d by sand – but nay,
No storm had happen’d on them, nothing new

Of any sort – it simply dipt away
From their sight, as they mov’d beneath the sway
Of sandy hills. This would grant them reprieve
From blinding light ahead, but not the day

Nor heat – yet still, if they were to believe
The lull, then truly they were both naïve.
The climb back up to level was quite hard,
And Luna’s head acht when she did conceive,

Consider teleporting. She’d regard
The toil as necessary – yet it scarr’d
Their energy still. “Are we nearly there?”
She askt him. “I find that my magic’s marr’d

By sheer exhaustion.” “Well then, do not care
About its use. – Besides, we shall soon fare
Completely to the source, so falter not!”
“I hope you’re right!” But neither were aware

Of how loose this sand was – both of them thought
That their grips were fast, yet this courage wrought
A slip, and even fall. Both then struggl’d on,
With careful placement of their hoov’s on taut

Bits of sand. When they came up, it was gone,
But Luna knew which way, and soon was drawn
In its direction, with him in her tow.
It was unlikely, thought she, that ’twas a dawn

Ahead of them, but knew that ’twasn’t so.
For none they’ve met before spoke of a throe
Of darkness, nor, surmis’d she, could she make
One such night for them. Where they had to go,

It was not far from them now. She would take
The most direct path to there, sans mistake
As just before. The baker was too glad
With her own progress. “Let us not forsake

Our goal now – what we seek is fully clad
In ancient stone, and cover’d by th’ same.” “Sad –
How could we move the cover with just us?
If I us’d magic, it would soon prove bad

For my own health.” “Then we’ll need to think – plus,
We ought to break here, lest we hear a fuss
From either.” There they sat, to ponder deep
On what to do next. The time passed thus,

Yet nothing did present for them to reap.
The stone was far too tall for them to leap,
And far too heavy to move, regardless
If they us’d magic or just a great heap

Of strength. But Luna spotted it – success!
The stone had crumbl’d; where it did depress,
The sand ran freely. ’Gainst her reasoning,
She lit her horn and carv’d right through the stress.

And as the sand fell and blew on her wing,
A rather musty smell flow’d, which did sting
Her nose. It seem’d the baker notic’d too:
“What being would dwell here? What archaic thing

Would seal itself within here?” “Hush!” The blue
One lit her horn to shine cerulean-hue
Into the dark. Neither of them could find
A thing, e’en so. Soon they could not see through

The pitch, as Luna’s magic falter’d. Blind
They both were, as they stumbl’d, well confin’d
I’ th’ dark. Then Luna’s hoof found something veil’d.
Her power enricht again, her light then shin’d

Upon a hoard of gold. Her face then pal’d
A’ th’ sight of untold riches that avail’d
Themselv’s i’ th’ light. E’en as temptation set
In on her, she just staid her hoof. Impal’d

On a gold spear was a note with a threat:
“Seek not these riches, for they are mine yet;
Should you ignore this, I will settle score
By settling your newly-accrued blood-debt,

Or even worse, by taking something more!”
This Luna ponder’d. “What is ‘something more’?
Would you know?” “I would not,” Honeycomb said.
“To gather this much must prove quite a chore,

So I would not imagine in my head
The effort it took. We would soon be dead
Were we to leave with any of this hoard;
Whichever fate we’d met, I greatly dread.”

“I wonder still, O Subject – who would lord
O’er worthless riches like this? Just a cord
Of wood, still bound fro’ th’ mill. And e’en more waste
To be found here – with aurum mixt and stor’d!

Whoëver owns this certainly made haste
To gather – look here, I’m up to my waist
In what I think is dark and viscous muck.
O what a soggy mess, a foul disgrace!”

“I hope you’ve paid attention to your luck!”
The baker pointed in – they were awestruck
To see a dragon, fast in peaceful sleep.
They both went quiet, and did not run amok

Again. In careful hush, he said, “I’d leap
Across to help you, but I have to keep
My silence, as would you. Now careful, grab
This candelabra, climb right up this steep

Coin-pile, and meet me here. Take care not t’ stab
Yourself on this gar.” It was rather drab,
The candelabra, to be found in here,
Yet Luna thankt the skies that he did nab

It sometime in the past. She had no fear
As she climb’d out of th’ sludge, but only mere
Discouragement as she slipp’d on the gold,
But gain’d a grip – where they stood, they were near

The nostrils of a mighty dragon old.
To their surprise, his sleep had lost its hold
On him; he stirr’d, and rais’d his head to look
Upon th’ intruders. “Ah, who would have stroll’d

Within my cavern?” bellow’d he, which shook
The walls – yet they held firm. “I hope you took
Your final glance at this, before I blow – ”
“Nay, wait!” said he. “I realize you might cook

Us in your fiery breath – before you throw
Your flames, we only seek rest from the throe
O’ th’ outside. We want none of your precious
Gold, treasure – you can keep the lot.” “If so,”

The dragon said, “then your debt is bloodless.
Come, stay a while – I sense a stormy fuss
Outside now. – Who are you? Do tell me soon.
I am call’d Tângroen.” Said she, “As for us,

I’m Princess Luna, Regnant of the Moon;
Honeycomb is a baker. From that dune
We do not hail; we also do not see
How we came here. I think you’ve the same tune

Yourself.” “Indeed I do; I find some glee
That I was not the first nor last. – This spree
Of comings ought to end soon, don’t you think?”
“Well, we are vying for a way to free

Ourselv’s from this place.” “Hm! What missing link
Need you? I vie for much the same.” A wink,
And Luna saw through his thin-cloakt desire.
“I see your aim,” she said. “I should not sink

Another promise, e’en if we require
A third eye-pair. It is not that we tire
Of you; indeed, I’m very certain that
The baker here would well like to admire

A tale of your time thence.” “A tale!” he spat.
“If so, I must give you this caveat:
Compared to your old Equestrian life,
Mine is most vile, as I have been told at

Extensive length. Perhaps you’d tell the strife
I’ve caus’d before.” “My words may be a knife,”
Said she, “one that cuts deep into your pride.
But start; I’ll hold my tongue until ’tis rife

With chaos.” Tângroen said, “I should not hide
A single detail, then. I shall abide
By your conditions.” He then clear’d his throat.
“Once long ago, all kings knew when they eyed

My shadow in the sky. They would devote
A great cache of gold for my hoard to bloat
If it meant leaving all of them alone.
But pardon me, for now I must not gloat

On my scores. You might sit upon your throne,
Athink that all’s well, but you should’ve known
A dragon’s greed one can’t e’er satisfy.”
“I know this all too well,” spake she. “We’re prone

To dragon-raids, but we’ve eyes in the sky
Who can warn us of pending danger. – Why?”
The dragon glar’d at her. “Because I’d not
Rather deal with more than I would come by.”

And Tângroen sighed then. “I should have thought
As much. What magic ponies have well wrought
Does keep us firmly out. I’ve never breacht,
No matter what wiles, what tricks I had brought,

Your pegasi keep dazzling my sight, ’til I reacht
The ground. And even then, those folk impeacht
My competence, until I flew away
T’ return another time – or so I preacht.

Then once upon a rather gloomy day,
I found another’s hoard. Without delay,
I swept up what I could bring, and left there
Nought. All of it was mine to keep, I’d say.

As I flew through that crisp and chilly air,
I dropt some treasure, though I did not care:
I knew not when its former owner would
Return, therefore, without a moment t’ spare,

I hid my newfound gold away for good
Once I return’d home, as a dragon should,
Unlike that other one – so gullible!
To keep it out of sight, beneath some wood

I did conceal it, yet that was for null:
One could still spot it from the air, so full
I had to heap it with detritus too.
It soon got to th’ point that my hoard lookt dull,

Without the sheen of gold that dragons knew
As home. One could see this well, if they flew
O’er th’ nest. So naturally, I had to find
E’en more gold, compensating for that stew

I call’d a home. Again I found another blind
Hoard, not well-guarded. Out of sight and mind,
I stole; this cycle would perpetuate
Itself for many years, until mine shin’d

Like th’ sun again. The other ones would hate
To look upon its brilliance. O so great
Was it, was I, that I became a Lord
Of Dragons myself.” “Then what be its fate?”

The baker askt him. “How could such a hoard
Become lost? As I understand, by th’ sword
A hoard is built, and by the same ’tis lost –
And your amassing cannot be ignor’d.”

“You are correct at ev’ry count. The cost
Of this is quiet – a dragon would accost
Another more and more, by sword or word,
Both day and night, until his peace is tost

Out.” Tângroen laught. “Although that time has blurr’d,
That day soon came for me. A fiery bird
Once saw that glint, and so I chased it off.
But it return’d soon – and Equestria heard

Of my exploits as well, for they would quaff
Fro’ th’ goblet o’ war.” The dragon stopt to cough,
The fumes of smoke arising out of him.
“They carried golden arms – these I would scoff

And then would steal, but they were full to th’ brim
With zeal. They do not wage war on a whim;
They saw my hoard, and sought to have the same
For themselv’s. I believe I saw a prim

One too, Celestia – yes? She has the fame
Of dragon-lords.” “Well, I would rightly claim
The like myself,” said Luna. “Do you not know
Who Princess Luna is? My very name

Is apposite with the moon and night. No
One e’er can speak of night sans me, no foe
Who travels in the dark to haunt my land
Shall know impunity. My rage I’d show,

As would Celestia, sister dear. We stand
Together, undivided by all we face, and
We shall continue doing so.” “I see.”
Then Tângroen stretcht himself, which made the sand

Descend fro’ th’ ceiling. “I should make my plea
For mercy now, for what might you bring me?”
He roll’d his eyes. “You’ve nary power here.
I clearly saw you struggle in your plea

To break into here. Why should e’er I fear
Your retribution?” “I think that’s quite clear:
If you’ve heard of my sister’s solar might,
With ev’rything well-lit, then it’d appear

Dark would conceal my forces out of sight;
E’en if you wish perpetuated night,
You’d not be any safer. – Am I plain?”
“We’ll have to see,” the dragon said. “Your plight

Is lack of darkness in this land; your bane
Is that you cannot bring it forth. You feign
A power so great, but I shall call your bluff.
You can’t show off your might; you can’t explain

This either, save f’ admitting not enough
In terms of dominance. You speak but sough.”
“And yet,” said Luna, “all that you have got
Is worthless.” Tângroen lean’d in, looking tough,

As if his words did not suffice. “You’ve wrought
A hoard, ’tis true, but it is all worth nought.
Perhaps you could explain this departure?”
The baker stopper’d laughter – he had ought

To answer to this question of honor.
Instead, he sighed. “I shall admit per.
Your name is night and moon, and mine is gold;
It would not work if we accuse th’ other

Of falsity.” He stretcht his back. “Behold,
I shall reveal how my greed took ahold
Of my sense.” Putting claw to chin, “Now, where
Was I? Ah, yes; the battle did unfold

With hordes of ponies, led by that white mare
Who, before long, returned to my lair
When I chast off her bird. They show’d no ruth
In cutting through my heapings – then laid bare

My wicked fortune. After long came truth:
Not all was stolen from their kind; forsooth,
A good deal came from other dragons too,
And when they heard of this, I felt their tooth

Of retribution on my hide. It grew
Intense, the pain, until I fell. I knew
I would not rise again, so when I rose
In fact, I thankt the stars, whose light shines true,

That I would live yet. Here, where noöne knows
Exists, I had few in the way of foes.
I found myself free to loot as I please
Which helpt distract me from the ceaseless throes

Of this land – heat and sun, and nary trees
To speak of almost brought me to my knees.
I came across this cavern, where I’ve staid
E’er since. In time, it turn’d into a squeeze

For me, but I car’d not; I’ve always made
A fortune for myself. And thus I’ve preid
On ev’rything, but problems soon became
Apparent: ev’rything I’ve gotten straid

From any value it once had. This game
We dragons plaid soon lost its point. My aim
Was lost forever now, yet I still striv’d
To put together greater hoard.” “The same

Hoard we stand in now,” Luna said, “depriv’d
Of meaning. Pray, how has your way surviv’d
For this long? I would have surrender’d long
Ago if all I took, when I arriv’d

Back home, had lost its worth. But you were strong
Enough to keep your diligence. Your song
Of thieving must come to a bitter end,
However. What you did and do is wrong,

Regardless of whom you had offended.”
“The dragons, truly, but the ponies spend
Their uselessly.” “O, uselessly, you say?”
Honeycomb tread up on his snout. “You tend

To hold on to your fortune, whilst you say
We spend ours without gain. – You’ll rue today!
We use ours in trade, getting what we need
Or want, and you obtain to make it stay.

Indeed, ’tis useless what you do! Your greed
Is but nonsensical, and now y’ exceed
Your greatest hopes, but ev’ry thing’s for nought!
I do suppose that’s justice for your creed,

Since clearly, Tângroen, you have lost the plot!”
He firmly leapt off, wond’ring how he fought
A dragon and still liv’d. Perhaps he saw
His reasoning in these words, even wrought

A moral out of them. But from his maw
Came these words: “You are guests within my law,
So while I give you refuge from the wind
Beyond, I would expect respect. My flaw

Is quite apparent, yet you’ve also sinn’d.
As soon as that storm passes, I’ll rescind
My hospitality – since you would choose
To insult me.” Delighted, he then grinn’d

At his proposal they could not refuse.
“Unless, of course, you give up what you use
As Nighttime-Princess.” Luna was in shock:
Dar’d he to take her crown and peytral? “Whose

Things do you think you lay your claim? You talk
Of honor, but your greed betrays you. Mock
Me all you may, but never think you might
Take anything I have of mine. – You gawk

At my words, even wish for us to fight,
But I can tell you, that will not end right
For you. You fear Celestia, that is fair,
But you should fear the one who wields the night

As well – for in the dark I may not spare
A leather-hided gold-tick like you. Where
Do you think we are?” Such a piercing speech
Arous’d in him an urge t’ rampage, to tear

His cave apart. But then, before he’d breach
The walls, he heard a stillness, which did teach
Him of another way. “The storm has past,”
He said. “Begone anon, you – both and each

Have pester’d me to nary end. At last,
I have my silence and my gold ammast.”
Both th’ others roll’d their eyes, and bade
Him well without a word, and left him fast.

Indeed, they found signs of a storm that made
Its way past them. ’Twas good that they had staid
Inside the cave; the storm before did leave
Them worse for wear, so they would be afraid

Of yet another one. “I do believe
We should head on, since here we did achieve
Nothing in way of progress,” Luna said.
“You’ve other plans, don’t you? Could you conceive

Another lead?” “I’ve nothing in my head,
Regrettably,” said he. “So far, I’ve led
Us both on what you’d think are useless tales
From others stuck awander.” “Yet we’ll tread

E’er on. Such talk provid’s reprieve from trails
That otherwise seem fruitless, and unveils
The lives of others we’ve not met before,
What things they did wrong, and what that entails

I’ th’ end.” “I have to ask,” spake he. “What for
You call’d his fortune worthless? Such a score
Must still be something, yes?” “Because,” said she,
“When you have ev’rything and still seek more,

Then what you have has lost its worth, you see.
For that same reason, when he made his plea
For my regalia, I was outrag’d by
Th’ insinuation that I would agree

To give up something worth so scant, that I
Would be weigh’d down by this junk. By sky
Above, he could not be more wrong. I do
Adore these both.” “I ask again, then – why?

How did you come to gain these things? Have you
Forg’d them yourself?” She laught. “That is not true –
So long ago, when I first rais’d the moon
And sister dear the sun, the ponies knew

That we would need these ornaments, all hewn
From metals pure, adorn’d with magic strewn
Throughout them. They imagin’d they would make
Our magic stronger, so we’d move from noon

To night, in my case. Yet we did not take
These things as useful, but we’d not forsake
Their gifts so soon; we wore them anyway.
In time, they grew on us; we would awake

And slip them on sans thought, and start the day.
They were a part of us; on us, they’d weigh
But nought. Perhaps it was that magic bit,
But I think we had just become blasé

To wearing them. (– Although,” she would admit,
“I do adore so how well it has fit
My frame in all these years.) When Tângroen prest
Me for them, you can now imagine it:

My head adorn’d not, and my naked chest – ”
“Perhaps,” Honeycomb said, “it would be best
If we were to move now. Clues shall not wait
For us t’ arrive, so we shall leave soon – lest

We miss a vital thing.” A merry gait
To mask his nervousness, and he went straight
Ahead. She’d follow soon enough behind
Him, tugging her cloak o’er her face – she’d hate

To choke on sand in sudden storm, be blind
I’ th’ same. Honeycomb was not in that bind
Himself – I guess, she thought, he must be ust
To hard times where he hails from. He could find

Reprieve in any shelter, she deduc’d
Why, I’m ecstatic I’ve been introduc’d
To somepony with intution like
His. He heard nothing of this; he adduc’d

The silence to her marv’ling on the hike
Upon the hill above them. Here, unlike
The sandy depths below, a gentle breeze
Did help reduce their burden. Like a shrike,

Her eyesight pierct around the air with ease.
Forsooth, she saw i’ th’ far their destinies.
She pointed and askt, “Shall we go again?”
“If that is possible, I’d like to – please!”