Chapter 1: The Story Weaver
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// Chapter 1: The Story Weaver
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"In the far north, past the northern grasslands and across the grand river, near the outermost border of Equestria stood a magnificent stone city known as Gelding Hold Keep. This bastion was the heart of the pony kingdoms of old. The fortress itself was a towering behemoth! Its walls four times thicker than the walls at Canterlot, the towers that once stood rivaled the tallest of trees in the ancient Everfree!" So exclaimed the old story teller in his scruffy old voice, his hooves stretched up to the classroom ceiling. His long gray beard waved about as the old tale teller gestured excitedly towards the wide eyed foals sitting on the red rug. The teacher nearby watched the bronze colored stallion attentively as she sat on the edge of her seat.
The frail, balding bronze stallion smiled as he reached into his bright auburn robe and pulled out some fine purple powder.
"The castle was an absolute jewel of ancient pony architecture, its masonry was unparalleled for its time. The artistry and the beauty that the ancients have engraved into the stone was absolutely amazing, intricate designs and astounding craftsmanship fit for kings." He rose both forehooves in the air, making his sun-kissed robe wave under him. The cloth gave off a soft, glowing bronze hue that reflected throughout the classroom.
"This ancient castle surprisingly still stands. Its construction done long ago, probably thousands of years before the Sundering of the Titans, before the great famine, and before the birth of Our Highnesses and the unification of Equestria!" the old stallion cried, excitement building with his every word.
The his fiery temper began to simmer as his shoulders slackened and relaxed. "Many scholars believe that the Gelding Hold Keep was built long before Tamilane the Greater. Some may even say that the castle was built by the Precursors or some forgotten indigenous race and that Tamilane discovered the remains of the castle and rebuilt it. Still others say it was built by Tamilane's ancestors over hundreds of years. But they all agree that no one may ever truly know for certain." The tale teller shrugged, giving a small pout and a raising of the eyebrows for good measure.
The small fillies and colts their gaze on the aged stallion as he lightly shook his hoof full of purple powder.
He then edged himself away from the foals and gazed intensely upon the floor in front of him. "Now not many ponies have been able to travel to the old keep. Why? Because they'd have to venture through the Everfree Forest or the Stone Fang Peaks to get to the castle from here." He pointed his hoof to the ground, as though to remind his audience that his words had only carried their thoughts to the ancient castle, not their bodies.
"Sadly, there are no pictures or paintings of Gelding Hold. That means that I'll have to make do with a bit of magic dust."
The stallion then cracked a sly grin as he rose his hoof into the air and threw the powder onto the floor, only just a few feet away from the little foals. The children gasped in awe as they scooted backwards on their reading carpet. The powder exploded into a billowing plume of bright purple smoke. The tale teller then wrapped his hooves around the cloud and began to shape the fluffy haze as if it were wet clay. With age long practice and fine memory, he used his hooves and brushed, pushed, pulled, and squished the clouds around and about to form a large purple castle floating barely two feet off the ground.
He glanced at the children laid out on the floor. All were smiling and staring at the big magenta castle. To them, it looked like a big floating playhouse.
The old stallion grinned, satisfied. "This castle was supposedly made by earth ponies. They were magnificent farmers and craftsmen of the time, growing the best of crops and hewing the ugliest hunk of granite into a beautiful statue in a matter of days."
He pointed one hoof towards the castle. "It also housed many of the greatest warriors of pre-Equestrian history, many of whi-" The frail story teller's eager history lesson was interrupted by a small yellow hoof rising from the crowd of foals.
A small yellow filly with a scarlet mane waved her hoof rapidly in the air, hoping to grab the story teller's attention.
"Yes, Magenta?" the tale teller asked in his cheery, scruffy voice, motioning his hoof to the young yellow filly to prompt her to ask her question.
"Has anyone you've known been to the castle?" she squeaked.
"Why yes, my dear, there have been ponies who've trave...eh..." His voice broke as he slowly caught the gaze of the faded but still very visible scar on his right leg, just barely peeking out from under his robed sleeve.
A little colt coughed to break the silence.
"-uh, traveled to the castle, many of whom I've known as colleagues," he concluded with a confident pose. "I myself once had the pleasure of visiting the ruins a very, very long time ago." His eyes widened slightly as he accentuated that second "very."
"Even though it was a very long trek through the Everfree Forest, it was surely a sight that was very well worth seeing," He injected as much cheer as he could in the reassurance, trying to make up for the earlier awkward silence.
"But isn't the Everfree Forest dan- dange- dangeror-" The yellow filly found difficulty with saying the word.
"Dangerous?" offered a light blue colt.
"Yeah, that. My mommy says that the forest is a bad place filled with mean and scary monsters," insisted the little filly as her magenta mane bounced with her uneven vocal tone.
"Well I had a big group of big tough explorers with me when we visited the ruins, my dear," The story teller cooed as he dipped his head a little.
"Oh," Magenta answered, enlightened.
"Now, where was I?" the bronze stallion said to himself.
"You were talking about the ponies that lived in the castle, grand-father." The teacher smiled as she reminded him with her motherly voice.
"Ah yes!" exclaimed the old one as he cocked his eyebrows and pointed his hoof up towards the invisible light bulb that flashed above his head.
"The castle housed many great warriors of pre-Equestrian history, brave warriors like Kochylis Stonebreaker, Ebleva Farsight, Polemo Flash, and countless others no less notable than they. Many warriors were artists, musicians, carpenters, writers, farmers, and architects as well. All swo-" He stopped as he was interrupted again by the same yellow filly with her hoof raised high. His eyes briefly looked up to the ceiling of the school house as he silently beseeched the Princesses for patience.
Only when this communion was complete did he ask, in a calm voice and with a raised brow, "Yes, Magenta?"
"I thought warriors were only good at fighting?" she asked, a quizzical frown stamped on her face.
"Well being a warrior doesn't mean you can't be good at other things," A light green colt with a pickle and barrel cutie mark called out.
"That's absolutely true, Pickle. Having a job as a warrior doesn't mean that you can't do other things. Look at the royal guard for instance, even though they may take their jobs seriously, they might like to play games with their friends and..."
He stopped as the fillies were flummoxedly frowning at him as though he were crazy. He then remembered his encounters with a few off-duty guard ponies in Canterlot and how stiff and boring they could be. His face drooped as he ceded the point. "Okay, maybe not the royal guard, but you understand what I'm trying to say, yes?"
Magenta nodded, as did a few other fillies and colts scattered across the floor.
The bronze stallion then stiffened his body, mouth open and ready to speak, eyes darting left to right, waiting for another question to arise. Finding the room completely quiet save for the occasional shuffle, he continued on with his story. "The ponies of Gelding Hold Keep sworn allegiance to the mighty earth pony Lord Tamilane the Greater. The Lord was the leading force of the Great Pony Alliance. His allegiance brought all of ponykind earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn under one blue and yellow banner." He said in a proud tone as he began to edge towards a chair.
A purple filly rose her hoof. "What was the name of Tamilane's country? Was it still called Equestria back then?"
"Well Amara, back then there weren't any countries, they all were small separate city-states," answered the old stallion. He paused for a moment and brought a hoof to his bearded chin. "Come to think of it, I don't remember the name of the continent that they resided on before the founding of the name 'Equestria'..."
He shrugged and pressed onwards. "Anyways, the true name of the city that Tamilane ruled over has been forgotten since the Sundering of the Titans..." He pulled his auburn cloak over his mouth with an evil expression blaring over the brown cloth. "...and the division of the Pony Alliance that followed the great famine." He stood stout as if he were a royal guard with his hoof in salute. "But there are some folklore that had been passed down to generation to generation that say the name of the city really was..." He paused for a dramatic moment as the childrens eyes slightly dilated. " 'Aspidia' " He waved his legs around the image of the whole classroom as if he were rubbing against a tall invisible desk, making a few of the foals to briefly giggle at his silliness.
He was enjoying the laughter and smiling faces. But just then he caught a glimpse from outside the window in the corner of his eye. His thought his old mind was playing tricks on him again, but this time it felt like that ghost from his past was actually... He frowned and shook his head lightly, trying to shake the memories away, but to no avail. The small trickle of recollection instead swelled into a raging river.
The old stallion tilted his head and sighed as he stared at something only he could see, as though reminiscing about something very dear he had lost forever. Meanwhile, the children kept staring on, blinking every so often.
"Why does he do that?" A filly whispered.
"I think he's having his special grampa moments." Another whispered back.
Snapping back to reality, he cleared his throat and continued. "The city state of Apsidia acted as the leading power over the neighboring pony kingdoms. Under the glorious banner of blue and yellow was the unicorn kingdom of Perlircia and the cloudmongering pegasus tribes of Alogos.
"Imagine Aspidia being the Canterlot of Pre-Equestria," he concluded as he rolled his left hoof in the air.
Another small filly raised her hoof. "Have you ever met Tamilane?"
The rest of the class laughed, making the poor filly shrivel up in embarrassment. The story teller tilted his head and frowned as he stood up from his seat. Standing relatively close to the little hunched filly, he took a hoof and pushed the teary filly's chin gently upwards until they were eye-to-eye.
"Oh, my dear, no. I may look it, but I am not that old. But don't worry," he soothed, pulling a large lollipop from his robe and handing it to the sniffling filly. "Now don't be down on yourself, it was a good question nonetheless."
The little filly's eyes widened and sparkled as she saw the huge lollipop, sending a warm fuzzy feeling down the tale teller's old creaky body.
He patted her head as he walked back to his chair. His bald head started to sweat as his face was marked with angst. The poor stallion looked strangely guilty. "I...hmm." He struggled, trying to push his memories away.
An idea then flashed in his head.
"How about I answer your question through another story that is related to the castle?" He lied behind his grin.
"Okay," the filly gleefully said, bringing her full attention to him as she waited for this next tale.
"Right." He cleared his throat and rolled his stiff neck muscles. The archaic stallion sat still as he squinted towards the floor, as though the story he had reiterated throughout his life had been written on the rug. He then looked up to his audience with a confident face.
He began softly, dramatically. "'Twas morning in the Old kingdom of Aspidia, the sun was shining a golden hue that blanketed the land. The grassy plain surrounding the mountainside castle was littered with huge scorch marks and splintered debris of fallen trees." He moved his right hoof over the image of the imaginary battlefield that stood before him.
"The bright sky rained fire and clay, the air was filled with the thunderous booms of the war drums." Slowly, the little ponies attention began to fade into boredom. Many of whom were staring at the clock, waiting for that ringing bell to freedom.
As the little foals sat, many ignoring the story, they daydreamed of their own little adventures. Their imaginations ran freely as he continued his tale, their minds barely acknowledging his words. The storyteller carried on with his story, unconscious of his bored audience's fake interest.
The tale teller pointed to his eyes. "Their beady eyes blazed with fiery conquest as they marched toward the castle's mighty walls, iron shields gleaming and ivory tusks shining." He clutched imaginary armaments in his forelegs.
The children again dozed off into their fantasy world of recess, school gossip, dragons and knights, and heroic deeds that were barely related to the old stallion's story.
"They collided like two walls of steel, smashing into each other with utmost fury! The ponies slashed, bucked, and dashed in full might with their glowing swords and hammers, striking savagely at the enemy, yet left no wounds on their attackers. Instead these weapons surged through the enemies' exposed bodies, blasting the sensation of pain and fear into their beastly hides. Each slash that broke through their armor streaked through the flesh with searing pain, only to be pulled away without a trace. These enchanted weapons attacked the battle-hardened spirit of the beasts, like a sledgehammer splinters the wooden foundation of a house." The old stallion recited from memory as he fought a valiant battle against his invisible foe.
The children's eyes were drawn to the action of the story, their brows elevating as he continued his epic.
"One by one, the beasts fled in panic across the ruined grassland and into the Everfree Forest. The brutes' eyes, once filled with burning excitement of battle and lust for conquest, were now awash with fear and confusion." His own eyes widened in sympathy for the bygone brutes.
"The defenders were showing signs of exhaustion as the flood of the fuzzy warmongering beasts swarmed through the shattered gates. Many of the weakened knights fled with the very little strength left in them. Suddenly a loud rumble came from underground, the middle of the stone plaza shook. Both forces retreated from the vibrating battlefield as they both prepared themselves for the thing that lurked below-"
He was interrupted by a very loud bell as it echoed from outside.
*Ding Ding Ding*
The old stallion sighed in relief.
It was the end of the school day.
All of the little foals moaned about the exciting unfinished story as they got up from the reading carpet and sped towards their desks. Gathering all of their books and utensils, they left the school, their teacher calling out the weekend assignments as they raced towards their two days of freedom.
The teacher walked towards the old stallion waving goodbye to the little ones. The last student left the school house, saying thank you for the story behind the lollipop that was the size of her head.
"Well that wasn't so bad. Was it, Taby?" he asked his great-great-granddaughter. He pulled out a hoofkerchief from his robe and wiped away the sweat that beaded on his balding forehead, brushing a few of his last gray hairs into place.
"I'm glad that you're alright, Grampa," The tan pony said with relief. "I was hoping that you wouldn't keel over from telling your stories. Thankfully, you didn't get to the most exciting parts yet."
of her grandfather's exhaustion after telling and reenacting some amazing stories, performing them with such passion and fluidity, as if he had been there himself.
"You are okay, right, Grampa?" Tabitha asked with a concerned look on her face as she brushed some of her white mane to the side.
"Oh yes, I'm fine, dear. I just need to take a nap," he replied in a low tired voice as he looked down. His head began to lower as his eyes slowly drooped down. His tired old body began to fall into a sleepy abyss. He then began to sleep upright, snoring and drooling over his beard.
A muffled voice called out, "Grampa? Are you sure you're okay?"
The old stallion was then grasped by his grand-daughter. "Grampa!"
The old stallion jolted with a nasal grunt. "Nuargh!, Taby, you know that you shouldn't startle me like that, sweetie." There was a tinge of annoyance carried in his voice, emphasized by his slight frown.
"I'm sorry Grampa, but it looked as if you were about to fall over," noted Tabitha in her motherly voice. "Maybe you should go home and rest."
"Alright, I'ma gettin, I'ma getting," he grumbled humorously as he was shoved himself towards the door. His granddaughter stood by and watched with a tiny grin.
The story teller teller turned around at the door entrance. "Buh-bye, sweetie." A gleeful smile covered his face, his eyebrows raised in mirth, wrinkling his old bronze forehead.
As he walked out into the sunny day, his smile drooped to a tired slump. He had trouble trying to keep his eyes open as sleep crept behind his sight.
"Bye, I'll be visiting you tomorrow at Canterlot, okay?" Tabitha called as the old stallion walked out of the school house and into the carriage awaiting for him outside.
"Okay, dear!" A muffled voice answered from outside.
"Sir, Your carriage to Canterlot is ready." The coachpony said with a smile under his oversized top hat while opening the carriage door.
"Thank you my good sir." He lightly grumbled behind his half opened eyes.
The old stallion jumped into the black carriage and fell on top of the seat. As soon as he laid down onto the comfortable seat cushions, the carriage began to move. Slowly the old stallion started to fall into the deep void of his dreams. The last sounds he heard before blacking out were the bumps and rocks that hit the carriages wheels.
*Thrum-dum-dum*
*Thrum-dum-bum*
*Creak* *Thrum-bum-bum* *Swoosh*
The thundering sounds of the war drums resounded throughout the lower grass plains as the large mass of ebony and auburn slowly drew closer to the stone bastion. The ground rumbled more and more as the large sea of crude metal and blotchy fur marched toward the castle. Pebbles and dust vibrated off the sides of the battlement walls. The castle flagpoles flew the colors of blue and yellow. Ironclad warriors with gleaming shields lined the fortress walls, awaiting the start of what would later be known as the 7th Battle of Gelding Hold Keep.