Fort Book, and the Dragon Hoard

by Ponyess

The Keep of Fort Book

Author's Note:

Sister's POV

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Previous Chapter: Fort Book, and the Dragon Hoard

Next Chapter: Apple, or Carrot

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I am a bookworm, an egghead. I am tired of being teased for it. Now I had hidden away in the deepest and most sacred of places; the archive of all the old and heavy tomes. Knowledge, from the dark and deep past, where books were worth something.

With all the heavy tomes gathered and piled up into what is to pass for my very own and private Fort Book, I can hide and feel safe and secure. Hidden in the sub level of the archive basement, I doubt anyone would find me.

Just gathering the books had taken me hours, building the fort several more ours.

I ended up with a large stack of interesting books, I had not had the energy or time to sort out; in what is passing for a pile, similar to that of the dragons hoard of gems. I had no idea, this could possibly make any difference or be of any significance. How could it? While books may be important to me, but these are just regular, physical books with no powers of their own. Or? Am I so utterly wrong?

What is a pile of assorted books?

Fantastic, Fort Book is large enough; to have several, separate rooms. One of which is currently housing the stack of books, yet assorted. Another is hiding me, from the world above, and the world at large in general. There is the front room, or lobby; for those who prefer these kinds of expressions and locals. That room is not particularly useful.

I had fallen asleep, exhausted; now laying prone on the floor of dusty old tomes. I never had the time to bother; dusting these treasures of books of, after the construction of my precious Fort Book.

Wearing only my school-uniform, I had fallen asleep. A top, a skirt, panties, socks and shoes; this is all I wear. White cotton and the blue; signifying my grade at school.

Apparently, I do have a few apples and carrots in the back-back; I left that in the room by the books. No books, no nothing; I had left it elsewhere; feeling no urge, or reason to bring it down with me. You bring no books, to the Fort Book, castle of all books.

Exhausted, I had not even noticed, that I had fallen asleep. I had not cared, how much of a mess I had left elsewhere. No energy left, for care or tidying up.

As I wake up, to the distinct noises of unsteady books moving; momentarily panicking, afraid the fort was to come tumbling down over me. Maybe I am no architect, or skilled at construction.

I blink; once, twice, thrice. There it is again, the sound of books moving. Someone is in the fort. Another had found Fort Book? Not someone, but some Pony. Technically speaking; she had not found the fort, she is summoned. Now she is stirring from her slumber, thus causing the noises and the commotion in the other room.

Of course, she is just as startled; to find herself on the pile of books, deep within Fort Book. While she had managed to fall asleep, on just such a hoard of books; a pile of hoarded knowledge, but it is not her prefered resting place.

Exhausted, I had simply fallen asleep, where I lay; on the floor of large books, deep within my fort of heavy books. Now I had been woken up, by the unexpected sounds; created by the rousing of the pony, summoned by the coincidental structural design. The fort of books, and the pile of books, hoarded in a single place.

While it does not make any difference, I am still happy; I am wearing something, even if my clothes are less than presentable. My clothes are wrinkled and in a mess. Yet, I am at least dressed.

I manage to get to my feet, before I am starting to walk towards the commotion. At its center, there lay a purple unicorn named Twilight. She is still struggling with her situation within the fort, on the top of the hoard of books. The situation, a shock to her.

“Welcome, to Fort Book!” I greet her.

“Hi!” she whispers, in surprise.

“Fort Book, you say?” she then inquires, as the name calls out to her and calls her to the here and now in which she had found herself.

“Fort Book! Why does this feel so familiar, to me?” she ponders.

“Of course! I built the entire fort, out of books!” I respond.

“Are you saying; that we are literally walking, on books?” she inquires.

“Of course, the floor had to be made out of books! The floor, the walls, the ceiling; everything is built out of books! At least, we are safe from rain, down here; in the archive, which is why these books are so readily available!” I respond.

Of course, by now she had managed to climb down from her hoard of books; standing on the firm ground, safely and comfortably.

“I recall, building a structure just like this; my Fort Book, was just a bit smaller than this!” she exclaims, as the memory clears before her.

“Did you by any chance, fall asleep on a pile of books, at any time?” I inquire, in an attempt at clearing the picture of how and why she had ended up here.

“Now, as you mentioned it; as a matter of fact, I did fall asleep on a pile of books! Once, when I was dead tired; after planning and organizing a summit, I did fall asleep on a pile of books! It is a bit embarrassing, but I did need the sleep something terrible!” she responds.

“I guess the cards are lining up, for how you ended up here, with me!” I exclaim.

“You liked books, over ponies too?” I inquire.

“As a filly; yes, I did!” she responds, giggling nervously.

“Here, in Fort Book; you do not need to be embarrassed, about such things!” I point out.

“Just as you do not need to be embarrassed, over what you wear, or do not wear?” she adds.

“Considering, how you do wear exactly nothing; feeling completely comfortable, I guess that would be a correct observation!” I respond.

“I couldn’t call myself a fashionista, if I was the last pony alive!” she giggles.

“That bad?” I inquire.

“Yes, it is!” she merely responds.

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