Nighthood

Thunder crashed and the wind howled, threatening to rip up the flimsier-looking stalls. The selection of clouds was perfect, huge, rolling cumulonimbus affairs that managed to look solid despite common sense. Not even the heavy-duty construction clouds could top these in terms of impressiveness. The skies were truly a sight to behold, given that your ears could stand the awful noise and that you were not trembling in fear -- which, Gloom observed, counted up to the grand total of one pony, dressed up in a robe and wizard hat. It was a shame; a reliable source had told him that Princess Luna had whipped them up personally, and he hated to see good effort gone to waste.

A kick to the shins snapped him out of his reverie. He rolled his eyes, made sure that the princess was out of the chariot and firmly on the ground, and complied with a nod, taking off to the designated clearing on the edge of the Everfree forest. All they would have to do then was wait.

Gloom took a deep breath as he flapped his wings, leaving the quiet town of Ponyville behind. Nightmare Night was the highlight of the Lunar Guard's calendar. During Luna's absence, Celestia had taken up the role of command, dispatching the Lunar Guard across Equestria to visit as many towns as they could cover, dressed up in illusion spells to celebrate the unique event. This year, with their rightful leader back... To put it nicely, Gloom was missing his plant monster costume already. It was not for lack of trying on Luna's part -- the princess had started planning months before, and had dedicated herself almost wholly to the work, hoofcrafting as much as she could -- but rather the lack of understanding about how Nightmare Night, or ‘the big 'un’ worked. Sure, maybe it was presumptuous to think that he, a mere guard, knew more than the Princess of the Night, Most Esteemed Half of the Royal Diarchy, ecetera, but the original plan -- really? Solemn watch by candlelight? A feast consisting solely of nocturnal flowers, half of which had gone exist after a thousand years? Bellowing the Equestrian Anthem, Night Edition every three hours?

"Did you see how all of them were flat on the ground?" asked Raddish.

"Yes, Raddish," replied Gloom, "yes I did."

To be fair, he thought, the princess had been gone for a really long time. It was not her fault that she did not know times had changed, nor was it their fault for not daring to inform her. No, daring was not the word, rather, willing -- she was just so enthusiastic, in her strange, stiffly archaic manner, that nopony had the guts to burst her bubble.

"Pathetic." There was a cough and the sound of spitting, so spiteful that it was audible despite the rushing currents in their ears.

Gloom could not help but grimace, adding another shade to his already dark face. To top off this most wonderful night of nights, he just had to be paired up with Raddish.

Raddish was, unlike most of the Lunar Guard, naturally dark gray, with a personality to match. Little was known about him because little was revealed, and frankly little was the amount of care Gloom could give. Raddish always wore a scowl on his face. He did not speak much, but when he did, there was a good chance that it would be complaints about the populace.

"They don't know what Nightmare Night's about," continued Raddish. "I mean, the princess's entrance was spectacular! But were they noticing? No, they were too busy thinking about candy and games."

"Not everypony appreciates storms," said Gloom, silently adding: Nopony normal, at least.

"Oh, of course. I just didn't expect the whole town to be so ignorant."

How much of this I can take? wondered Gloom as they approached the clearing. In a smooth glide, they landed the chariot without so much as a hitch. They disconnected themselves from the harness and made themselves as comfortable as they could. The trick was, as with most things in life, to lower your standards. He heard the sound of a match striking against a hoof and thought grimly: That makes two of us then.

The smoke trickled across his snout. "You seem ill at ease," said Raddish suddenly. "Shall I put it out?"

"You, er, puff that thing as you like. It's the bat wings," admitted Gloom.

"You do not like the princess' transformation spell?"

"No, no, it's fine," Gloom said hastily. "It's just that I have larger wings, so I'm more used to having a wider wingspan than these. Bat wings feel cramped to me."

"I bet you can't wait to rip the spell off. Maybe you don't even like being gray."

"I never said that." Gloom took a deep breath, regretted it as the fumes danced down his throat, and stared at the sky. Perhaps it was the occasion, but the full moon seemed brighter somehow, the pale glow giving outline to the remaining wisps of clouds. He found it soothing. "I am hoping for an early dismissal, though. I'd be able to take Biscuit out for a lap through the village then."

"Biscuit?"

"My daughter."

"You're married?"

"Never said I was," replied Gloom carefully. It’s none of your business, quipped his thoughts.

"There are many things you don't say," answered Raddish.

Several things ran through Gloom's mind at that moment. Most of them tried to think of a response to this cryptic statement, while a couple tried their best to argue against dignifying the issue at all. One lonely thought suggested: you know very well he's not the best conversationalist, and all ponies get lonely. Maybe he's actually trying to have a conversation with you.

“It’s getting cold,” said Gloom instead. “Why don’t we build a fire?”

“Can you?” asked Raddish, eyes narrowed. “Do you have the tools?”

“Don’t you have matches?” retorted Gloom. Put that thing to good use for once, he wanted to add. “Anyhow, help me find stuff to burn. Dry grass, twigs, that sort of thing. Not too big, because they won’t burn unless we have a fire going already.”

Being at the edge of a forest, the two soon amassed a tidy pile of tinder.

“The grass is blue,” blinked Gloom.

“So?” asked Raddish.

“Just thought that it was curious,” shrugged Gloom. “Give it a light.”

“Let me just get a smoke out.”

With mild horror, Gloom watched as he shook his left wing to reveal a rattling box. There was a small flick, and a cancerous roll twirled into the air. It was caught between teeth with the air of all otherwise-useless skills, honed to perfection with practice. His right wing fluttered, and out poked a match. He stared, with additional, sickened awe, as Raddish performed the same maneuver with the match. He raised his hoof, and the phosphorus was struck. The dirty deed done, Raddish gave a puff, and tossed the match into the pile. Greedily, the flames grew, and a woody, exotic scent filled the air.

“All right, then,” said Gloom. He settled himself down and stared into the fire, breathing in deeply. The blue grass was giving off a heavy, not unpleasant smoke. He felt himself relax, and he felt that he might even smile. So he did. “This sure hits the spot.”

His voice sounded slower than usual. But then again, so did Raddish’s.

“I suppose so.”

“You sound slower, Raddish,” Gloom said, suppressing the inexplicable giggle bubbling to life from within his gut.

“So do you.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, are you? You need wit classes. In fact, I bet that you’re not that bad a pony deep down, and I mean way deep down, just with a case of boring.”

“You... think so?” asked Raddish.

That was strange. He sounded even more sullen than before, if that were possible, though his eyes had widened, or shrunk. He couldn’t tell. The flickering fire was in his line of sight. Gloom nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. You seem like the type who listens all right. Just have to get to know you, that’s all. We can ask each other anything. I'll go first to demonstrate." Gloom paused for a moment, and continued: "What's your favourite colour?"

"And I have to answer?"

"Yes." A idea struck him, and he added: "Truthfully."

"Ah." Raddish flapped his wings uncertainly. "Midnight blue."

"Very well. So that's how the game works. Your turn."

"I see. We are playing a game, then. So, are you married?"

"No, I'm not. Now--"

"Why not?"

"I have to have my turn first," replied Gloom, slightly irritated. He laid a few more twigs on to the now-dwindling fire. "All right, why'd you choose this job?"

Raddish looked away, and seemed determined to keep his new neck angle, sore as it must have been. The wall of silence struck Gloom like a slap to the face, and he turned to the opposite direction out of embarrassment. Finally he spoke. "You don't have to--"

"It's this mare--"

"Go on."

Raddish gave him a rueful look, but obliged. "It's... this mare. Back in flight camp way back while I was a colt. She was really timid and got bullied all the time, and didn't say much. Heck, I could count the number of words we've spoken to each other on a hoof."

"So that makes one?" asked Gloom, unable to resist.

"You have to wait for your turn," snapped Raddish. "Anyhow... I liked her. She was just so fragile and gentle and pure. I wanted to defend her from those bully bastards, but I could never pluck up the courage to.

"I did want to impress her, though, so I signed up for the big race, the Young Flier's Competition. I thought that if I won or at least got a prize, I might have more weight to throw about, and that it'd boost my confidence enough for me to finally confess to her. So the day came, and I flew. I tried my best but the others were just too fast. The worst part was that when I returned, she had gone missing. Some of them even suggested that she had fallen off, down to the ground."

Gloom pawed the ground awkwardly. The night air suddenly tasted a lot more crispier, and he felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Sure, he thought, let's play a game. That was a great idea. How on Equestria did I come up with it again?

"That killed a good part of me," continued Raddish with a hint of bitterness. "Probably the good part of me. I dropped out of flight school and went to work with the Equestrian Defence, since it was the last place anypony I knew would be at. Couldn't stand the sight of them, and the feeling was mutual, surely. It was a low-level job, handling paperwork and all, but I was allowed to use their training equipment after hours. I guess working myself like a maniac was the only way to take my mind off things, huh?" For the first time, Raddish laughed. "Anyhow, one of the officers noticed and put in a recommendation. The Lunar Guards, soldiers of the solemn night and all that. Nothing pansy about that. I accepted without a second thought."

"And...?" Gloom pressed. This is getting interesting after all.

"When I got my armour, I tracked down the bullies." Now Raddish was grinning horribly. He sucked up the remaining half of the roll in one go, and released a small cloud. "It took me a while and a lot of prancing across the country, but I found them. And I taught them a lesson."

"Ah." The word hung in the air as Gloom tried to wrap his dulled head around this. Despite the gravity of the offence, the Lunar Guard was a large group in the way that an orchard was a large group. Everypony kept to themselves, did not interact much, and anything short of wildfire stayed in its place. Of course it was normal that Gloom had never heard of such an incident, or at least so he hoped. The alternative was that nopony ever told him anything, which, while nothing new, was not very nice all the same.

"But really, I like this job," Raddish added, almost peaceably. "I owe it all to the princess."

"But--" Gloom managed.

"So, why aren't you married?" asked Raddish, his old tone creeping back in.

He's worn his heart out on his sleeve for you, Gloom's mind told him. It's only common courtesy to return the favour.

Gloom opened his mouth to speak again when a distant screech sounded from the Everfree Forest, followed by possibly the crashing of falling trees.

"Um," said Gloom.

Raddish arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes. So?"

"Just wondering." Gloom met the stallion's stare, sullen with a glint of challenge. He tried his best to look dignified. "I'm not married because I already have a foal to take care of, and a wife would just be an extra figure to have to give attention to."

"Elaborate," said Raddish.

"No, you'll have to wait your turn," Gloom wanted to snort, but thought better of it. Fair was fair. Instead, he said: "There's nothing much to it anyway. I found Biscuit three years ago in the great fire that happened in Fillysta, on one of those peacekeeping watches. She was the lone survivor of her half of the village; she had nowhere to go, so I took her in."

"I thought that Celestia had a provision for orphans," frowned Raddish. "Was it moral oh-blee-geese or something, that made you take her in? Just because you saved her doesn't mean that you had to take her in."

"Oh, but you see, I didn't save her," said Gloom, a smile easing itself across his face. "She saved me." Before Raddish could speak, he lifted up a hoof. "Her father owned a large inn. We were sent in to rescue the trapped ponies, but a chunk of the roof fell in and separated me from the others. I tried to make my way up anyways, see if I could find a way out, but the heat got to me first. Ten minutes in, and I was half-unconscious when Biscuit found me and dragged me to the closest window. You know how Earth ponies are. Their magic lies in their bones. Somehow we got out. The point is that I wouldn't have without her."

A quiet fell upon them, punctuated by a steady, low thumping and the splitting of many branches. Gloom had heard stories about the Everfree and decided that the noise was perfectly acceptable by standards. He took another deep breath, tasted the cold air, and thought of Biscuit. He wondered whether she was still waiting at home, the poor filly.

He had asked her if she wanted to go out with her friends the other night. She had, to his dismay, replied: "What friends?" and he had found out what it meant to lose sleep over something. It was not as much what she had said as the way she had said it. It was innocent, devoid of sarcasm and rhetoric. Biscuit’s world, apparently, did not contain the concept of friendship. A sociopath was the last thing Gloom wanted her to end up becoming, despite his far from stellar track record in this regard.

"Do you have any friends?" asked Gloom absent-mindedly.

"No." The curtness cut through Gloom's drifting thoughts like a skewer through pineapple chunks, bringing them back to the forefront of the situation.

"I thought that we might have had something going on," half-joked Gloom.

"I wouldn't know," said Raddish, suddenly thoughtful. "Do we?"

"I'd like to think that we do," said Gloom, brightening up. "Hey, how about afterwards we go--"

There was another screech that made their blood freeze.

This is not to say that Lunar Guards are of a weak disposition, nor that they are any less fit to be soldiers than the Regular or Solar Guards. In fact, their association with the night means that they work when the sinister side of Equestria's ecosystem came out to play. There are snakes and prowlers and even creatures of the occult ever-waiting beyond the torch-lit walls, depending on where you are unfortunate enough to be stationed. The idea of facing horrors was not a problem for them.

The actual presence of a horror in one’s face, however...

This particular example hovered above the pair, kicking up chaotic currents with its massive wings that not did flap so much as thrash. Eight thick legs twitched erratically from its segmented black body, as did its jaws and feelers. It raised its ugly head once more and gave another screech, much more painful now that it was a mere twenty feet away. From the ground, Gloom could make out the hissing, sucking sounds of the abdomen. Even its breathing was terrifying.

As with most brains when faced with sheer improbability, Gloom's began filling with useless information. That wingspan is probably the length of three ponies, it suggested. Its body is the same length. You should really get to eating that chocolate you saved from last year's annual dinner. Hey, how about that tune from that play you went to a few weeks back? Sandwich Wrap, Mister Sandwich Wrap, 'cos my life is crap, Mister Sandwich Wrap...

The sensible part of him grabbed on to the direct line to the mouth and yelled: "It's a giant moth! What the blazing knackers of Luna?"

They gaped as the monster circled the air around them, moving at a snail's pace. Gloom's mind unhelpfully found it fascinating that Raddish could still move. He was burning through cigarettes at an amazing rate, flipping roll and match in a way that would have demanded a standing ovation in a circus act, trembling so hard that he almost lost his hoofing. Meanwhile, the moth appeared to have made a decision; it swung toward the nearest tree and bit the top off, then flung it away for no reason. There was an awful crack of folding bark.

"Ju... just stay calm," whispered Gloom. "N... no sudden movements. Maybe it'll just go away."
He caught the flash of lightning at the corner of his sight, followed by the rumble of thunder, only just audible above the battering gusts, coming from the direction of Ponyville.

The moth screeched again and started to fly toward it.

For several moments -- his brain counted thirty-three, which he ignored unsuccessfully -- they stood still, hearts slowly making their way back to a less rib-breaking pace. He blinked a few times, robbed his glands of the last bit of saliva, and croaked: "It's heading to Ponyville."
Raddish wheezed in response, and stepped into a rather large pile of ash. "It... is, isn't it?"

"We have to do something! Come on!" urged Gloom, to the protest of his common sense.

"But -- but -- no."

"Wha? What do you mean, no?"

"It's okay," said Raddish slowly. "It's none of our business, is it?" Gloom could only stare as the cold, hard tone straightened out the last of his tremblings in the manner of a strict governess with a stricter stick. "We weren't warned about this, so it's hardly fair if we didn't know what to do. Those Ponyville folk seem like the sort that know how to handle things like this. I can't see the sense in getting into trouble we aren't obliged to deal with."

"Obliged? Obliged? It's our sworn duty to protect the citizens of Equestria! Are you out of your mind? We have to do something!"

"No, just apathetic," came the reply. "My duty is to the princess alone."

"And hers is to the ponies of Equestria!"

"They don't love her! They don't appreciate her! Why should I care about them?"

"You're just throwing a fit because you think that they don't appreciate you!"

The proverbial gloves had come off. If ponies were puddles, Gloom would have been steaming. If not for the furious throbbing in his veins, he might have noticed the change in Raddish's expression. His usual scowl was a field of daffodils in comparison to the mixture of shame, indignation, and rage bubbling across his face. It would have made even the toughest Lunar Guard uneasy out of politeness, but Gloom had no intention of backing down.

"Oh, you and your crusty demeanour," spat Gloom, years of mild discontent surfacing as an angry lump. "That look you put on all the time, the look that says ‘Hey, I'm hungry for a knuckle sandwich!’ The way you talk about regular ponies as if they're beneath you, and all that sob about losing your love and... and poo! It's sickening because it's as if you haven't learned anything. You're no better than those bullies, in fact you're one yourself in your own way. You abuse the emblem on your armour, and you fluff it about as a license to do whatever you please. And despite all that, you're still this sad coward who doesn't dare to actually do something right for once. You don't dare to face the truth."

"And what would that be?" seethed Raddish.

"That you had a choice. That you have one. That we all have a choice, no matter how much we don't like the options," said Gloom, shaking his head. "You made your choices, and somehow you're still wearing Luna's blessed symbol. You've got a choice ahead of you now. I just thought that you'd make the right one." He struggled as he tried to bend his wings forward. "I thought that you might try to forgive yourself for once, or at least do something to make it up to yourself."

"Wait! The princess is there!" tried Raddish. "She can stop the moth, can't she? It'll be all right!"

There was another bolt of lightning, noticeably far from the landing area of the first. The conclusion was painfully obvious.

"I think that's around the edge of the other forest," said Gloom quietly. He started flapping his wings. "Doesn't look like she's in Ponyville anymore." He looked back at Raddish. "Last chance. You can either help me save the town and bring honour to the Guards for once, and do something good to boot, or wallow here with your disgusting cigarettes."

"But don't we have to--"

"I'm not hearing it." With a sigh, Gloom shot into the skies. The moth was not hard to miss, despite its dark colourings; the only other large object hanging above was the moon.

I know where it is, he thought. Now to think of why, what and how.

He surged on forward toward the cheerful splash of light that was Ponyville. Moths, moths. What was it about moths? Gloom had toyed with moths in his foalhood days, waiting for them to gather around the candle before swiping them up in one swing. There was something about that experience, something relevant...

That’s it! Light!

Okay, he thought, so we've got a motive. Maybe it's the moon, or maybe it's the noise, but somehow this huge moth managed to pick up on the light. It's Nightmare Night, after all, and there's magic shows everywhere. Plenty of pretty explosions and stuff. Now it's going toward the light, as all moths do.

What is it going to do?

This stumped him. He had never let the poor things live long enough to find out why they were so attracted to the flame, nor had he not bothered to ask. Perhaps the way it was wrecking trees was a clue. In cases like this, it was best to assume the worst, so he settled for ‘maniacal destructive tendencies.’ It was not as if the moth simply wanted to pay the town a social visit or borrow a cup of sugar or something non-dangerous. Surely not.

The beast gave another screech. All about Gloom, weak breezes began to kick up, and he had to flap harder to stay balanced. It was getting closer. Just why exactly the moth was moving so slowly, Gloom could not fathom, though he muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the stars just in case.

How to stop it?

It's a moth. It likes light.

The two phrases bounced around Gloom's thoughts. The stupid things -- the moths, not the thoughts, though it applied amazingly well to either -- were best left alone, and seemed to die perfectly fine on their own. Now, when he actually wanted to kill a moth... it was just stupid. Everything was, tonight. The shadow dwarfed him as he was buffeted into a treetop. It was all falling apart.

He raised his eyes to see the glow of red and orange, several miles away, with a column of smoke rising gently in the moonlight.

Then, the streak of gray, almost invisible, crashing into the monster's left wing, only to bounce off.

The moth turned, and saw the second light.

It flapped for a moment, undecided, before changing course. As it turned, it sent a surprise counter-gust along the tips of its wings, and Gloom found himself yanked downward on to the springy surface of a treetop.

After a while of staring at the open sky, Gloom closed his eyes. His senses shuffled back into working order. There was the distant crackling of burning mixed with the up-close pounding of his arteries. There was the prickly sensation of curious insects along his sides, poking at the edges of his armour. There was the taste of dry.

Images began to filter in, along with the realization: problem solved.

When he opened his eyes, a dark mass filled his sight.

"Um... Gloom?" it asked tentatively. "You okay?"

"Raddish?"

"Who else would be prancing around in the dead of night? Above the forest tops, I mean, excluding you of course, and the Princess, and the regular patrol."

Gloom thought of something to say, but the laugh got to his mouth first. It started out as a twitch, invading his lungs and stomach until it grew into an all-out ringer that echoed below. To his surprise, it was joined by another, almost painful-sounding one, until at last one of them gave out.

"I've never been funny before," said Raddish, in a short-of-breath way.

"You've never been useful, either," grinned Gloom, adding hastily: "Until now." He propped himself up to scan the scene. The moth was almost there. "The fire? That was you, wasn't it? But how?"

"I struck a match. Fanned it a bit. Fires grow. Plenty of dry bark to be found," shrugged Raddish.

"Let me get this straight. You... started a forest fire?"

"Yes."

"And the one that knocked into it, that was you."

"Yes."

"Wow." Gloom scratched his mane, followed by his belly. "Not many ponies would do that."

"Dive into the belly of a huge insect for the sake of the common pony?"

"Start a forest fire. Hey, look, I'm kidding, all right, I'm kidding." With a series of gentle flaps, Gloom brought himself up to Raddish's level. "We're going to have to put that out later. When the moth's done, of course, which reminds me, what is it doi-- oh. Oh."

It would suffice to say that the scene, accompanied with shrieks loud enough to wake the dead, was not pleasant.

Gloom suddenly felt that a moment of silence was called for.

"I didn't know wings could burn like that," said Raddish at last.

"If we're going to keep our armour, we're going to need a lot of water," said Gloom, "and real good fortune, unless Ponyville's deaf. Luckily, there's me for the first one. Plenty of humidity about. I should be able to get a raincloud up in no time."

"Your cutie mark?"

"I prefer the term 'one true talent'. But yes, I have a knack for dealing with fires. I was on flush duty at a time, when I was with the Fire Brigade. Then some idiot thought that my talents would be better put to running into burning buildings. Survival after survival, and when I moved to the Lunar Guard, guess what was the recommendation that came with it?"

"And then you found Biscuit."

"Yes, I did," admitted Gloom. "Come on, let's get started. The princess will be done in an hour or so, perhaps, and if we're quick we might even manage to blow the smoke away."

Things had turned out much better than they could have hoped. Somehow, some way, the whole of Ponyville had turned deaf. There were no reports of unearthly death cries or screams on that night, though there was a complaint regarding "irresponsibly cleared land".

Even Princess Luna, reverently terrifying, seemed happier when the time came to pick her up.

"I trust things were good, princess?" Gloom had asked, over the howl of wind in their ears.

"Pardon?"

"Did it go well?!"

"Yes, indeed, it hath gone well!" boomed Luna. "We have discovered the meaning of fun in various forms, and we have even gained what we believe to be fans! Tonight has been a good night indeed!" As an afterthought, she continued: "And how was yours?"

"Well, we just stood around," Gloom wanted to say, but he bit back just in time. He gave Raddish a cursory glance. He was looking straight ahead, looking for all the world like a pony who was trying to give the impression that he was not listening.

Instead, he settled for: "Better than expected, your Majesty. Learnt a few new things... and even got a lesson in friendship."

Awkward, stunted, but as brilliant as the moon, Raddish's smile accompanied them as they soared across Equestria, back to Canterlot.

Dear Biscuit,

I hope this finds you quick enough. Please get the spare room ready. I'm having a new friend come over for a visit, and since the journey back to his place is far, he'll be staying the night with us. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow -- it's a funny story, that.

Also prepare the hot water and the special spell-removal bath salts. We'll set off for some proper midnight Nightmare Night-ing when I get these crimped wings offa me. And, if you see the local zebra, as her about blue grasses which make you slower, and see if there’s a cure for problems. If at all. Just to be safe.

Love,
Dad