When a pony loses everything, it'll take the journey of a life time with help along the way to find out what really matters. This is that pony's quest to find what he is missing and to reconcile the past.
Grim Rune had lost everything that defined him as a pony of privilege when an attack by changelings left him without a home. With his village and possibly parents gone forever and no help from the Princesses; he'll have little choice but to venture out into the world to make his own way. Handicapped (Hoof-i-capped?) spiritually and physically; Rune begins his journey towards enlightenment. There is hope that he gains a real education of the world that is not always in black and white nor night and day, but will the revelations and meaning of friendship be enough to save him from the dark path he travels?
His magic sure hopes not but Equestria better sure hope so.
First fic so constructive criticism is welcomed. Please excuse any poor grammar; I really did try my best.
The rustic countryside was dotted with dark hovels that have become dilapidated due to being unused for many years. The once warm looking straw thatched rooves of the farming village now lay tattered and filled with holes as they go unrepaired and shred apart in somber decay. The once sturdy limestone and mortar walls crumble slowly under the unrelenting assault of time and weather; as they too remain untouched by an owners love. Surrounding the empty and dilapidated homes; overgrown fields that now contain more rats and vermin than vegetables are a testament to what once was or could have been but will never be again.
The village of aging homes, in all the wildly growing fields, seem to face inwards, accusingly, towards a center structure that still looks well maintained and in good repair as it stands on its own little island protected by water on all sides. With empty windows as eyes; the once farms stare up forever mournful at the castle as it towers triumphantly in the center of town against the backdrop of a night sky. The impressive castles high walls ever reaching over the meager village and grasp for the star filled expanse above and proclaim, -This castle’s still here and will not parish from the world even as the world around it dies.
The moon, in her ignorance, shimmers on unawares of the proclamation for which the building stands and she casts her light indifferently to the earth in unending grace. The wild clouds drift past on the moon on their own and without the aid of pegasus guides; blocking parts of the moon’s glow in jealousy. One might stop and think the clouds covet the night as they cause dancing shadows on the cold stone structures below with their greed and gobble up the light from the celestial body, but neither the moon nor the castle are concerned with the cloud's mischief as they remain constantly unaware of the other.
And little did the night see or care that within the castle’s cold stone walls, on one of the most upper floors; it was much like the sky. Equally the castles hallways were empty save for a tiny glimmer of light that pushes at the darkness. The echo of hoof on wood fills the hallways like the stars twinkling in the night attempt to fill the sky, as a ghostly image of a bone white pony casts in a purple haze seem to float between the open windows.
If one outside were to be looking at a distance in said windows, at that glow several stories up from the moat; one may think the building would seem most definitely haunted by the sins of the past and nothing like the beautiful night sky as the apparition proceeds on its lonesome journey. Sadly, there is no pony outside to think this anymore and the field rats don't care about ghostly images.
Suddenly and for no seeming reason, the ‘ghost’ like pony stops and looks longingly out one of the openings it was passing by to the once thriving town below. Staring out of the window; its red eyes glow faintly with an inner fire that is so much different than the purple smoking light on the end of its horn that it’s shocking in contrast and almost looks menacing or evil. Pupils dilate and its eyes focuses on each vacant home in turn as it thinks; brows furrow and a scowl creases the ghostly muzzle adding to the sinister visual effect.
“Remembering the past again are we?” asks the unicorn of himself in a whisper as his mind becomes bombarded by memories of the past. Continuing his monologue to the empty village after a few heart beats; he says, “You and mother are the last left. Even when you took up your current mantel to try and save this place… it wasn’t enough. You’ve never had enough power. You needed more power and failed. So, stop reminiscing and keep going.”
In disgust the unicorn shakes his purple mane that droops over his neck like dark water and flares his nostrils with a hardy snort before simultaneously pushing unpleasant thoughts and feelings from his mind and venturing on. His broken white horn, a testament to his failure, shimmers with purple smoke and he plods dejectedly along his route; his only companion the echoes of the past that chase after his mind like hungry animals.
The young stallion is constantly pushing the darkness away from him -both in mind and surroundings- as best as he can and locking away his anger at himself for later contemplation. Due to recent events, the stallion has learned that in the face of all things an untamed heart is nothing more than a hindrance to what must be done in the face of extinction. All his life he was taught otherwise; to be free and loving, to be tolerant and express himself. As a result of his teachings he was cursed to watch the small kingdom, no, HIS kingdom now, dwindle to nothingness. Painfully he remembers lush fields tended by earth ponies full of frolicking filly and foal, He remembers skies of Pegasus and sunshine, and mostly he remembers the curse of unicorn ignorance that decimated the lands of his forefathers that his family caused and that no assistance came from neither Sun nor Moon when prayed for.
With a sigh and pausing at a door at the end of his journey; the purple hazy glow around his horn flickers as he concentrates harder and a knock can be heard echoing on the other side of the barrier. He internally berates himself as pain throbs in his head just under the base of his appendage but is thankful he didn’t drop the simple light spell and leave him in the darkness of night. With a broken horn doing several things at once can be damaging to the user if not deadly. It takes a surgeons skill to work with a broken horn for any tasks. The reason is obvious and taught to any magic user; the horn is the tool a unicorn uses to draw energy and to focus that energy into spells. When that focal point is damaged, even with the slightest chip, it's much like a fractured lens and it becomes harder to point spells in the right direction without them fracturing. Knowing this simple fact he should have used his hoof to knock to save himself the annoyance of a head ache.
Waiting a moment the pony hears nothing from the room beyond and ultimate destination. Once more he knocks -this time with his hoof; a lesson learned and his headache begins to subside with the passing moments of silence. Still, no answer beckons from the door or the room beyond to him. It's more tiresome than worrisome at this point though. With an even deeper sigh he pushes the door softly open with his hoof but does not enter. The stallion clears his throat and then calls in tentatively, “Mother, I’ve come to check on you. May I enter?”
He continues to hear nothing but the stillness of night surrounding him as a reply. He peeks his head in to look around the bedchamber where it's equally repressive and filled with silence compared to the hallway. This place is the bedroom of the only pony left to him and the one mare of which he cherished and that had promised once she got better to travel, they together, would move on to somewhere and start life fresh. When things got bad the remaining villagers fled and abandoned them here. It was disgraceful how the mighty had fallen but he and his mother still lived and that is what was important.
“Or is it?” Mumbles the pony to himself, thinking about what is important or not as he enters the room on his own without admittance. Once more he is assaulted by his dark thoughts before he can control himself.
‘It’s an ever ebbing and cresting dark thoughts for him. Where did all the love go that was once in him?’ one that knows of his plight briefly wonders.
The master bedroom on this floor is inviting even on this chilled night. The bedroom’s wood adornments and finely crafted accents were once enjoyed by a line of unicorns that stretched back as far as the stallion could remember and yet now, all that is done save for the two of them; He and mother. No more shall the painting of valiant battles of the past be looked on by their line. No more shall books be read in an oversize chair by a roaring stone fireplace in winter as it howls outside. No more shall his line enjoy the feel of solitude and safety this place offered. No, his line is the end of all that and it shall all be left for looters or the mice.
Priorities first. Rune begins his chore of rebuilding the fire that will help chase the chill from the air in his mother's bedchamber. After a second or two of stacking logs with his hoof and watching the fire come to life with crackling might; he finds himself mechanically putting on a brave face and forcing a smile while ignoring his turbulent thoughts that surfaced once more. (He seems to have to do that a lot these days) he inwardly chides, but when his work is complete, Rune can finally trot softly over to the sleeping form of his mother that is cuddled in the middle of the large traditional styled four post bed in the center of the floor.
As he nears; his heart aches at the stillness of the blankets and for a fleeting moment the thought of him traveling alone in an unknown world flashes into his mind and makes his head spin with the sheer magnitude of the possibility. Thankfully; with what has happened these last few months instead of being reduced to a quivering sack of whimpers he has gained mostly an iron grip on his emotions and soon he is steadied once more while remembering one of his favorite quotes.
“Depression is a painful and heavy burden when you lift it on your shoulders constantly, so, why not let it go and put it down?” - Dalai Llama of Xiǎo mǎ xīzàng
Almost in response to his previous thoughts before the monks saying came to mind; a sickly coughing is heard from beneath the covers.
“Rune, is that you?” asks the weak female voice from under the mounds of blankets as it shifts and the female unicorn begins struggling to get out from under them.
Though the night wasn’t bone achingly cold Rune didn’t want his mother to get worse so he rushes to help her untangle herself from the coverings and yet keep her comfortably safe under their warmth. She also wouldn’t need to use the little strength she had for something so meaningless and attending to him when he was right there by her bedside.
Rune responds to her question as he gently peels back the covers from his mother’s head with his hoof and exposes her face to the waning moonlight that comes in from the window and his soft smile beaming down on her, “Save your strength mother, I am here. It will be dawn soon and I had thought that I could take you outside for some fresh air and sunshine today.” adding a touch of hope.
Looking down at her he can’t help but remember how she once was compared to this worn out mare in front of him now. The unicorn mare was once full of vibrancy and life befitting one of her station as mistress of the castle, but since the ‘infestation’ that caused all of this land’s problems; she had dwindled to a shell of her former self right before his eyes over the last few months.
Everglade: The mistress of castle Coltsegg, Rune’s dearest mother, and Wife to Rune’s father Neutral Knowledge whom was the seeker of all things magic; was reduced to a withered thing that constantly needed attending to by her doting son. Now her coat has turned a sickly shade green and black instead what once was one of deep forest and shades of mystery. Her regal horn that could pierce the densest of shadow in the deepest woods; sputters at the slightest glow and incantation spell. Her mane that shimmered like summer leaves on the trees being caressed by the winds, now lay flat and dull like dead moss.
His mother: the latest victim of this cruel unforgiving world and the last few years in them.
Everglade’s blue eyes flutter open to look at him; unfocused and still tired with heavy dark circles under them. She smiles up weakly at her son by her side while asking, “Rune, Have you seen your father? He keeps calling for me to join him somewhere but I can’t seem to answer or,” there is a moment of confusion in her eye before she continues with a chuckle, “Or he doesn’t hear me calling back to him the poor dear.”
Rune finds the question from her odd and his mother’s reasoning odder still, but he keeps smiling like a fool as he searches her face for an answer. Rune’s stoic contemplation for the situation begins to build a wall of silence between them unintentionally. He seeks to answer her but can only open his mouth a moment before closing it again in deep thought.
(There should be no reason for me to explain where father is and why he can’t be reached by her.) Thinks the stallion to himself; so in confusion Rune lets the silence drag on since he is unsure how to answer that question without causing more stress to his patient. After all; He needs his mother to get well and the answer wouldn’t help.
As moments tick by and the silence expands around Rune, Everglade struggles to see him in the dim light of moon and orange glow of the roaring fireplace. Her eyes finally seem to focus in then and they sharpen; she gasps a little dramatically at what she sees before her.
“Rune! You, you look so run down!” exclaims Everglade as she struggles to move from under the blankets and reach for her tired looking son with a freed hoof. “You’ve been working yourself too hard again. The servants will surely pay for this outrage!" soothingly she coos, "My little colt should be deep in studies with his father and not taking care of his ill mother!”
Everglade tries to lean up to where Rune stands by her bedside and caress his face lovingly with a shaking hoof. She strains against her own body in an attempt to comfort him. “See? I’m fine anyway! I’ll be all better by noon. Just you wait!” but before Rune can gently lower her hoof from his face in concern for her sapped strength; his mother collapses back in a heap against the pillows and he proceeds to tuck her under the blankets once more while thinking how horribly she lies to herself and him.
(This does definitely seem to be a pattern now.) He thinks in worry. The last several times he has woken her, something similar like this has happened. She distresses, expends herself needlessly over him in anguish, and he, in an almost rehearsed monotone voice states while tucking her in, “You need your rest Mother. I will make sure to…” and for the first time in a long time there is a briefest flicker of emotion that streaks across his face before it vanishes and he continues, “I promise I will reprimand all the servants we have in the castle for their lack of performance and shall also pray father to stop pestering you while you are recovering.” He figures since prayer is the only way to reach his dead father and there are no servants left. It’s not lying to her and it should be comforting.
Once the blankets are still again and the mare settles in a meek request is asked in-between a light yawn from the muzzle sticking out of the covers top, “Doesn’t your mother deserve a good night kiss from her little colt?”
Her son and ‘little colt’, Grim Rune, musters up all his might and forces himself to bow to the request in embarrassment. He is close to true stallion hood legally and with current events he has become more of an adult then his chronological age would suggest. Forced responsibilities and sudden loss can age you rapidly especially when there is no one else to help you.
Rune does love his mother but since he needs to be strong for her until she gets better it's best to lock those feelings, make that ALL feelings, away and make pretend; least they begin to break him and reduce him to a sniveling child once more. Leaning in he, places a gentle kiss on her nose and nuzzles cheeks with her briefly. Being so close and so conscious of his mother's care means he can hear her growl under her breath in frustration about being hungry as he pulls from the embrace and it shocks him a little bit.
“Mother, if you are hungry you should tell me. I can make sure breakfast is ready as soon as the Sun rises.” ,says Rune matter of fact like, it almost seems like he is scolding the blanketed pile as he steps back in a huff and stares down at the writhing bed but he could never truly be mad at his ill mother.
The unicorn mare responds in a rush of action, fed up, and she tosses the blankets aside from her body and onto the floor with a renewed vigor coursing through her body right before she gets up from the bed stepping to the floor beside it and in front of Rune defiantly.
“I’m hungry because of YOU, you twit!” Her strength seems to be returned like magic as she boldly stares down her nose at her bewildered colt.
Where did this sudden burst of energy come from? What’s going on? The mare that is Rune's mother still looks sickly, she still looks thin, and feeble, but as she stands there and radiates an angry hate at him that gives her power to move like a predator hunting its prey. Nothing is seems normal any more to Rune and the world threatens to spin out of control over this one single exchange.
It takes a few minutes for Rune to understand what is going on and he trips over his own hooves while backing away from the glaring form of his mother. Subconsciously he tucks his tail between his flanks and creates more room between them as he stumbles once more and as she looks on him with deeper disdain. Most would think he was cowering but it’s not exactly fear that grips him and causes him to act, no, his emotions are still tightly locked up and it allows other forces beyond fight or flight to take the helm. His movements are a logical and tactical response prompted by him giving over control to reason and that will allow him to give distance to the unknown while forming a plan of action in safety.
Anger shoots bolts of loathing from her blue eyes as EverGlade growls at Grim Rune; her supposed son. “You! You bothersome annoyance! At first you were like a constant flow of nectar and now you sour like milk in the sun with all your dark thoughts. I'll no longer put up with this. My time here is done and my Queen will be pleased as I bring back the last of this dwindling harvest that I have stored.”
“Queen?!” Repeats Rune as he gapes slack jawed and shocked at his mother’s form and her incoherent ramblings.
The form of Rune's mother that now stands tall and straight before him in all her pride as she mockingly looks down her nose at him is one he knows well; the form of his mother; one that is of a mirror of his memories which are forcefully being dragged to the surface. In horror, Rune watches as she suddenly changes in hue right before him. She becomes instantly healthier looking and recharged; back to the way she used to be before father died.
His mind begins to churn as he stares in utter disbelief, (It couldn’t be! Father ran tests. He used his magic. Mother cannot be a part of all this. It just can’t be!)
“Yes, My QUEEN.” responds his mother before she cackles in menacing glee. “Oh little Rune. Once daddy was sucked dry and passed away and you became responsible for everything; it was so easy for us to finish off this town. He was the tough one to get around, not you. He was so tolerant, so noble and self-sacrificing, Everypony adored him unlike his introverted son. You're the reason this venture became so plentiful for the hive little Rune.” Ending the explanation on another villainous laugh.
A stomped hoof later from Everglade and his mother’s shimmering form begins to change once more. A green flame erupts to consume her body while startling Rune out of his daze and allowing him to scrambles back up to his hooves. He’s finally figuring it out even as his ‘mother’ prepares to gloat some more.
“Changelings….” Is all he can gasp to himself but Rune cannot afford to give in to his emotions and sink into despair now or he may never learn what he needs to; that thing he cannot live without. Unfortunately, changelings are not this vocal unless they are powerful or a queen themselves. She thankfully had stated that she is serving a hive queen so there could still be a chance. Even as he lowers his head and points his broken tip at his mother/changeling he knows no matter what he has to take the chance.
Roaring out at the thing in challenge Rune demands, “Where is she?!” (Caution, keep those emotions in check.) He must be careful not to give any more fuel to this thing.
The blazing form of his mother finishes its transformation by collapsing into a black and twisted alicorn filled with holes perforating its chitin covered body. It’s slightly smaller in stature than Rune, but not any of the less dangerous since changelings can feed off emotions, transform, read minds, and have limited magic’s of their own. Worst of all the disgusting thing seems more insect than pony as it stares at him with pupil-less eye chambers and flaps its buzzing wings; chortling in arrogance.
“Where. Is. she?” growls Rune in the face of his advocacy as his red eyes narrow and the anger begins to seep out from his mental locks. “You, you, you," stammers the stallion as he searches for the right words to convey his writhing hate. "Changeling fraud! Answer quickly and I may not squish you like the bug that you are!” The purple hazy glow begins to build on the broken tip of his horn as he waits for an answer and he begins to form in his mind an offensive spell.
The changeling feeds off of a small bit of leaking love without Rune knowing. Rune's love for his parents and lands exudes from his mental locks unintentionally as it fuels his anger and supplies more fuel for the hive to collect. The changeling plans to take every last drop it can so it continues to monologue in the face of supposed danger.
“She? Whom do you mean? Your dear, old, mare of a mommy?” and once more the changeling is giggling at Rune’s expense before it continues to explain to him. “Why I’ve been your mother for these last years after switching with her. As the town was invaded, I poisoned your father’s heart and drank him dry for our Queen, then the village was left to you and me to rule and defend and ultimately that means it was unguarded. I played helpless bed ridden distraught Everglade; well,” it paused, “after your father’s body was found that is. It was just too much for me so I collapsed. And that, Rune, was also the beginning of you missing the signs that the hive was well established here; we were able to eat this hamlet from within unhindered.” Adding a smile it proceeds with a smirk. “All as planned by the way. So, Here I stand right before you, your surrogate mother. Come give mother a kiss Rune.”
Rune doesn’t know what to say as he keeps a steady aim on the changeling. His broken horn was part of their plan? His mother was replaced? For how long has she been missing? How much of his past was a lie? It hadn’t been that long since the disappearances started, in fact, a letter requesting help was sent right before his father died. Was it Runes fault? The ponies fleeing. The lands decaying. How long though? Does this mean…
More buzzing laughter at the stunned stallion fills the room before the changeling moves around Rune and to the window cautiously. It keeps a steady unblinking eye on the unicorn before turning and gazing out at the coming dawn; the black alicorn-thing leaves it’s back exposed to the charged up horn of Grim Rune without fear for some reason.
The changeling then chooses to continue its taunting another way in hopes of feeding off his prey just a LITTLE more before planning an escape. Pausing in the laughing and giggling at Runes expense, the changeling poses the next question with sudden seriousness. “Does really it matter anymore Grim Rune? You’re alone with just your name. Give it up already. You’re weak and all alone. You even stopped summoning monsters to help you upkeep the castle or maybe they wouldn’t come to your call since you blew your top? You’re nothing and nopony any more my dear Grim Rune. Why not just wither or run away like the rest; those that got away?” It sighs as if to say the answer should be obvious to anypony in their right minds.
There is a brief pause after the creature finishes posing its question, right before dark energy crashes against the wall by the window the changeling was staring out of in a shower of dust and crackling energy. The bolt mostly sends stone and much of the glass into the predawn to cascade into the moat below. The magic was shockingly strong for a unicorn that supposedly has his powers limited due to injury; the blast shot a chunk of the supporting structure outwards and created a large round gap through inches of unyielding earth. The changeling, unharmed, as it wasn’t the intended target stands perfectly still as the dust clears.
(A warning shot?) Slowly turning the bug like creature's head, in mock horror, looks over its shoulder at the young unicorn with the broken horn and eyes of flame. "You missed." It says with tension building in limbs.
His mother’s voice echo in Rune’s ears suddenly as the changeling uses magic to distract its prey. “Rune! You wouldn’t hurt mother would you!?” and for a moment it’s as if the changeling had changes back to his mother but quickly Rune shakes off illusion and false images before staring daggers at the black thing that is truly there; the focus of his all his hate. Knowing the illusion is in his mind does little to comfort Rune though and he struggles against the feelings of anger the changeling is causing and keeps from turning it to ash.
Rune must focus on getting information from his captive drone and stop feeding it power from his emotions....
A captive that is now leaping out the open window before it....
A captive that has wings and Rune just gave it a way out!!
“NO!” screams the white stallion as he fires blast after blast of dark energy from his broken horn towards the direction of the gaping hole he created and the fleeing monster. His magic strikes the remaining walls sending up more dust. The magic strikes the remaining shards of glass that are still in the frame and it even hits a passing moth turning it into, well nothingness, but Runes strikes never score his intended target.
Rushing to the hole after the changeling; Rune coughs dust out of his lungs and tries to see through the cloud and is left wanting so badly to continue on his assault on the drone but Rune knows it’s too late.
At the exit he provided to his once mother/changeling/target on accident and as the Sun begins to rise to chase away the darkness around his home; Rune watches helplessly as the fading form flees further into the skies and away from him. Rune feels the darkness in himself growing even as the first rays of Celestia’s sun touches him among the ruins of his home. The warmth and the promise of a new day may mean a lot to others but it means nothing in this valley of decay nor to him. He has completely failed everypony that once was here and could have been... but maybe, just MAYBE, there is still a chance of some type of fleeting happiness.
Calling out to the fleeing form Rune yells in desperation, almost sobbing, and not wanting to be alone. “PLEASE! Where is she?!”
The changeling does the cruelest thing it could think and responds to the question while knowing it’s safely out of reach of the stallions dark and deadly blasting magic. It wants to enjoy and savor this victory in getting one last turn of the knife on Rune for all the starving it endured while being excluded from its hive these last few months. The escaping changeling uses one of its spells and calls back to him mentally, “Tsk, My dear little Rune. You know in your empty heart the truth. Your mother is loooong since dead. As I said... you're all alone.” Ending with a fading cackle of glee it drops the connection and from sight in the distance. The changeling knows the Queen will be happy and Rune never will and that has made this all worth it.
Staring out of the window at the fading dot against the blue skies of morning, Rune feels his heart breaking apart at losing everything that means something to him and tears come unbidden to his eyes. His mother, Dead and lost for who knows how long. His Father, also Dead. His home, Dead. All the fault for all the loses the happened can be squarely placed on Runes slumping shoulders.
Rune’s own body is a reminder of his losses, his horn specifically, which was broken in two when he foolishly tried a shield spell he wasn't equip to handle. (Why couldn’t it just have succeeded?!) The shield spell was designed as a combination of friendship and love magic which was to push out threats to those he cared for and supposedly Rune cared for the village, or so his father thought, that is, until the spell had backfired.
Rune’s has always had a stronger influence in dark magic and it started to overwhelm him and corrupt the spell which his father wrestled for control of in aid to his faltering son. Rune tried to cut off the flow of magic to his horn as he was taught; interrupting a spell usually made it stop. He didn’t know what was happening as the spell continued to build on its own power and grow uncontrolled. Slowly the spell was eating away at him; love and friendship magic were not his strongest subjects of study so he lacked the skills to know what to do. Then there was a bright flash; the spell failed and he paid a heavy price for his lack of aptitude. He woke some time later to find the separated piece of horn on the floor before him where he’d fainted and his father passed out to the side; his father's horn smoking but he himself was thankfully ok. The spell was meant to expel the changelings from his homeland since his father and he first figured out they were invading but now it could never be done. Only Grim Rune had the seeming endless well of magic to pull from that is needed for the complex spell and his father was meant to only help Rune along as he tapped that mystic ether.
The loss had reduced his father to individually trying truth spells on each pony in the kingdom that remained in the town and castle. Once the recovered Rune learned he could barely help with his broken appendage and was no longer able to tap into his previous gifts, save the useless one, Rune found himself unable to do anything of importance. Looking back now, he assumed that his mother who was ‘tested’ by father somehow figured a way around the spell and since when Rune was learning to do the spell with a broken horn, ironically at her behest, it only figured such a thing went unnoticed and He and his father both remained unawares of his mother’s treacherous nature. Not surprising that his father died soon after that. The hive must have felt secure enough to move boldly with the removal of Runes talent.
Rune knows now; he will never achieve the greatness his family aspired to with magic. They had studied all magic equally and thinking of them as merely tool to be used in all forms and without fear. It was no wonder his family was so forgiving of Runes quick ability to tap into the forbidden "dark magic" that others shunned but now, no magic that could be deemed safe and worthy was available to him. It was either one extreme or the other with no middle ground. No teleporting; which he missed the most. He had lost it all, so is it any wonder his heart shattered?
Logic steps in once again, his only companion left, and with cold calculations after long minutes of contemplation his resolve seals away every little bit of positive emotion completely. He wills himself to be as empty as the castle; as hard as the stone. He wills himself to be dead as his lands. He will only be driven by one desire, he concludes knowingly. An emotion nothing but his own darkness can consume as fuel.
The warm day of spring (like most other spring days in Canterlot) is proceeding like normal. The sun beamed down between elegant looking homes and shops, the birds chirped and sang happy tunes in the blue skies, and the breeze, well... it got winded today so was barely there. But, let it be said, nothing could stop Canterlot from being Canterlot as it ever churns on in it's own style even without a spring breeze.
The hustle and bustle of ponies as they strut down the streets with noses in the air, or, as they enter shops to spend their bits on the extravagant; allows them to reveled in their own self importance of being in such a wonderful place on a wonderful day. The highest of high society is what ponies thought of when they thought "Canterlot". Ponies didn't think of the city as merely a place of tall towers and luxury but as the center of all commerce and law in Equestria. No, like most ponies on days like today; Canterlot was where the Fancy Pants and Blue Bloods went to mingle (Literally sometimes) and only as an after thought that the ACTUAL princesses reside in a castle here; do ponies really remember they are in the presence of greatness.
The electricity in the air from the swarming tourist activities lent an almost tangible feeling of importance for most residents. They couldn't resist the added rush and they prance through the crowds on their ways too and fro as if it was completely expected for visitors to gawk and stare. But, on spring days like this, it IS expected on both sides; a little give and take. After all, if you're a lucky enough tourist you'll be here visiting this center of power and influence, surrounded by all these other important ponies, and get the treat of seeing one of the rulers! Or so ponies hoped and THAT is why this group seemed a little bit more unruly than usual as they wander about in slack jawed amazement.
Multicolored guards of black and white stallions are stationed outside the castles perimeter and in front of the main gate. Decked out in all the finely trimmed armor they could display; the royal guards of the sun and moon struggle to bring back normal traffic and begin to herd up the bodies around them so as not to obstruct the road leading into the palace. The tourist begin tourist though; stop and take pictures while blocking walkways in ignorant bliss unintentional causing moment of disharmony. (But even they cant truly halt this breathing city that was carved into the side of a mountain and crowned with a castle. This is Canterlot!)
A few stray guards break from the group of tourist and line up in formation with salutes and pride straightened shoulders. One daring sun stallion soldier steps to the center of the street leading into the castle grounds with a measure and confident stride. The guard/guide placing himself in front of the group clears his throat to get everyponies attention.
"A-HEM!" Starts the guide before seeing all heads turn to him in a sea of eyes. He begins to monotone loudly into a glowing and floating megaphone by his muzzle that helps him project to the gathering. Putting on the typical hardy smile he was born to have and he continues, "We, of the palace guard, thank you for attending this, our noon time exhibition. We hope you enjoy yourselves and learn just a little bit more about what it is to be a loyal subject of Equestria." With a brief pause he turns around on his back hoof and begins to walk towards the lines of guards and open gates.
As the group follows sun stallion in awe he says with a rehearsed grace, "The palace became the seat of power for Equestria when Canterlot was founded back during..." but all to soon his explanation is swallowed up by the noises of everyday life and the guards outside take their typical stations to await the next group. The guide, guards, and the tourist were so caught up in the tour-guide/tourist dynamic that they didn't even see a grey mare flapping by over head on her way quickly towards the castle.
Most ponies know the full story of the formation of Equestria but fewer understand that the seat of power for the nation is a place unlike any other in all of Canterlot, or the world for that matter. In a regally adorn room near it's heart; columns that were carefully chiseled reach high into the distance above like marble sentries and are spaced so that panes of multicolored glass can cascade a light show of past tragedies and victories on the white stone floor below.
As the sun and moon alternate their cycles, the stained glass act as if filled with magic. During the day, the painstakingly constructed windows tell a clearly progressive story of yesteryear with promises of tomorrow, while at night those same images would dance and folic with hidden secretes and new stories of their own. Merely different perspectives of the same events for the most part. The walls to either side of column or window are also decorated; usually with a tapestry or some other type of ornamental covering, so that the room wouldn’t chill past that of a crisp fall morning and remain comfortable for the sovereigns and guest alike. After all, the long red carpet leading from the overly ornate and huge double doors to a throne of solid gold would be awe inspiring enough even without one of its owners staring down from above; that no pony should have to suffer shivering in the cold of surrounding stone is to be expected.
The throne itself is cast to stand three heights above the normal visitor, not to intimidate, but in a crowded audience to allow all to see the rulers of the land as they preside. To either side of the main chair is a platform to which the non-presiding princess or guest can comfortably be stationed and below that level; two ever flowing fountains of clear water that sparkles like diamonds lends an appearance that the throne is more like an alter to the Gods and meant to be bow and scraped at than just the comfortable chair it is.
Today however, there is no audience to gaze lovingly at the throne, nor is there functions other than the mundane tasks of statehood to be done here, so all the glimmer and glam is merely wasted on the beautiful and graceful figure that sits on its cushions. With a mane cascading in an ever blowing flow of hues that is only tamed with the gold crown on her head just behind her impressively long horn; the white mare alicorn hums to herself. That emblem of the sun on her flank; her cutie mark, sure doesn't mean she's the musically inclined type but the melody is haunting all the same in the empty halls. Briefly she pauses as another scroll is tossed to the side and is replaced before her. Celestia stares down at the backs of her two identical looking personal guards in contemplation. The guards; her only company today, look more like statues and living beings as they go about their duties as they guard her standing steadfast and loyal like always. She thinks she may have to remedy that but when the moment passes she allows herself to get back to work and saves that thought for another time.
Princess Celestia is one of the strongest in magic and simple tasks she can carry on with out even second thought. Nearby, a scroll unfurls in front of her under at the command of her glowing magic’s direction and she begins reading the words while a floating plate and fork that is surrounded in a similarly soft golden light hovers in place off to her side. The center of the magically floating white disk is a slice of confectionery artwork that is a sample of what is to be offered at the upcoming Gala and looks to be made from the richest of chocolate and the smoothest of creams.
Daintily, Celestia takes a bite of the treat from the fork and the delicately filled cake body dissolves in her mouth as it assaults her tongue with passionate kisses. She closes her eyes, savoring the balanced taste as it rolls over her and the cake elicits a savory sigh of approval after she swallows.
“It would seem the bakers have outdone themselves this time.” Celestia says to herself as well trained eyes scan another parchment that replaces the previous one that was before her.
The guards remaining at attention below the throne don’t so much as twitch an ear as they stoically stand at attention in their designated spots and ignore the princess’s love of cake and comments there in. They're veterans of the Royal Guard and already well know Celestia’s love of sugary delicacies. Even as the magically enhanced armor attempts to hide their embarrassment and rose filled cheeks under a vale of illusion; they stand vigilant and proud looking like the twin killing machines they were trained to be and await action or command and most importantly... without reacting.
Pausing and thinking to herself after many seconds of “sampling” the cake, Celestia fails to notice that the floating fork scraps across an empty plate until she is pulled from her readings by the sudden deafening scrape. She turns to regard the fork accusingly with a glaring scowl as if IT, the fork, was the reason there was no more cake on the plate. Tsk Tsk.
Setting the empty plate aside on her hoof-rest; she allows the parchment she was reading to roll back up into its shape and go off to the side where a small stack (labeled finish) is collecting. It's mostly just requests for audiences, inquiries about the Grand Galloping Gala, and offers at courtship. Typical mare-day afternoon type busy work really. She even already penned a reply to the last one before she noticed what she was doing and sent it on its way in response with a poof of magical teleportation.
Suddenly the doors to the throne room burst inward as they are thrown aside violently. A gray mare Pegasus flaps her way clumsily inside the room followed by calls and shouts of, “Hey! You can’t go in there!” and “No audiences without authorization, grab her!”, by the guards outside as they stumble across one another to stop her. Much like the personal Royal Guards inside, that now lower horns that glow menacingly at the intruder, the guards outside look to be the same white stallion as if they were quadruplets; the same but flustered that is; as they chase after their flying adversary.
At first, the alicorn princess is startled and taken aback by a thought of possible harm to herself but then she smiles knowingly as she recognizes her guest. Holding up a hoof at the racing guards and to get the attention of all in the room she clears her throat before speaking. “It’s OK, my little ponies. The esteemed mail-mare is always welcome in this room as she carries the burdens of many a pony with her.”
The guards skid to a halt behind the gray mare as she lands panting before the throne and Royal personal guard. Blinking in surprise at the reaction of her, whom they are supposed to protect; the guards exchange glances at each other in bewilderment before they notice that the other two guards stationed in front of the mail-mare had yet to lower their magically charged horn.
Stammering in protest a guard that was chasing the intruder says in exasperation, “B..b.. but Princess, She burst in here after destroying a window down the hallway that she used as an entrance! She proceeded to destroy one of the vases sent by the griffon kingdom! She’s dangerous and a menace! She's obviously an assassin in disguise meaning to do you harm and wreck the castle, my lady. The mail courier service would never higher somepony… somepony so, so…” and as if searching for the right word the guard blurts out, “So Ditzy!”
A small frown creases the Princesses mouth and the speaking guard knows he was out of line which causes him to swallow hard against the ball of fear that lodges in his throat. Lowering his head he continues apologetically, “be..be..begging your pardon my highness if your protection from her was not needed and I was out of line.” Then he cast his eyes to the ground sorrowfully.
Celestia did not scold him, as he would have expected from a displeased unofficial goddess, when he saw that frown but in her softest and gentlest voice she addresses him. “That is not all I assure you. It is truly admirable that you take your duties as a guard to the royal house so seriously and I know my life is in good hoof. However, it disappoints me that you call this honorable mail carrier a derogatory term that her friends actually often use in affection. Using it that way with a negative bite could hurt her feelings and she doesn’t deserve that. Please, in the future, try not label something just because you want to make a point. It’s unbecoming and I know that you are better than that.” She smiles down radiantly at the two guards that followed the mare from outside and concludes in dismissal to both. “You may go.”
The one that spoke out of line and in anger feels his shame like heavy stones that wrap about his neck as he looks at the panting mail mare. He didn’t mean to be, well, mean. He just wanted to express to the princess that she could be in danger because the guards, much like all the ponies of Equestria, loved the princesses so much and he hadn’t wanted Celestia to be injured or worse.
The second guard that was with the speaker merely turns and exits quickly while leaving behind his partner, the mail-mare, and the two other personal guards to sort things out with the princess. He’s glad he was able to hold his own accusations in, even if his partner couldn’t, but also feels a bit of the shame because he too was ready to sling accusations at the mare intruder.
The front royal guards relax their aggression towards the pegasus intruder; figuring this event no longer needs their attention.
After a few seconds of indecision the speaker guard trots towards the throne with head lowered, steps around the mare he verbally attacked, and looks her dead in the golden shimmering wall-eyes. (Those eyes are actually pretty), he may one day admit but for now...
“I apologize for the name calling. I was…” he bites his bottom lip as the confusing mare tilts her head questioningly at him with a smile and he feels the eyes of his mistress on his back filled with expectation. He continues after the brief struggle with his speaking skills, “Out of line.” Then to simplify things he says again, “I’m sorry for calling you names Ms.” finishing flatly to her with his ears pivoting back in sadness and he looks down once more; no longer able to hold that adorable stare of hers.
The young mail-mare with a grey coat and bubble cutie mark on her hind quarters, giggles at the guard in front of her as her eyes shift position; one up, one down. Before the guard can wince because she was laughing at him and his shame; the mare turns to her overloaded bag that is strapped to her side with her mouth digging out something.
(She can’t even look at me. She’s laughing at me and the apology I made. She must be so happy the princess corrected me like that after what I’d done. I bet I get relieved of duty.) Is what he is thinking as he closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh.
Unbeknownst to him though, behind his back the Princess merely covers her titter of glee with a hoof to muzzle at this solders discomfort and the actions of the mare.
The guard that is giving his most heartfelt regrets to the courier is surprised as he smells an overwhelming scent right before him. Opening his eyes, he jerks back in shock and stares at the offering that smells of blueberries right under where his nose was before him and clutched tenderly in the hoof of the mail-mare.
“Here!” smiles the mare as she offers the guard a gift. “Everyone loves muffins and you were just scared for the Princess. I know you didn’t mean it. You’re a nice stallion that loves the princess a lot and was just doing his job like me. I'm Derpy Hooves and I'm glad to meet ya!”
The guard doesn’t even know what to say as his heart skips a beat and his magic gentle takes hold of the blueberry muffin from the hoof of this wonderful, albeit clumsy, blond mare named Derpy. The breakfast treat hovers before his nose as he inhales deeply and feels the shame just melt away at her forgiveness and muffin-y gift.
(This simple, googly-eyed, bubbly, gray, mare Derpy that I was about to throttle for her unintentional actions, that I called a mean name out of exasperation, and that I...that I…) , the Guard swallows hard and cant even think straight any more.
In a daze and with a meek “thank you” he stumbles around the mare and heads for the exit he was dismissed to. Thankfully the illusion spell covers all of his blushing except where his ears poke from the centurion helmet. Those ears have turned from pure white to bright pink. So lost in thought and the sweet smell of his gift that he didn’t even pardon himself from the presence of Celestia.
“Ah, the power of friendship at work.” Muses Celestia to herself as she watches her possibly smitten guard stumble away from the scene of the crime.
Now with normalcy being restored, the doors closed again and the personal guards snap to attention back in their previous stance, the princess is ready to continue her duties. The only new addition to the day is the mail-mare standing before her seat and waiting; Derpy with the goofy smile that melts the hearts of soldiers.
Waving a hoof over to Derpy, Celestia beckons her to come forward knowing that whatever caused the uproar must be important. Without a word the princess watches the mare trot up to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them to come together as friends; So much for stations and protocol.
“My dear little pony, Derpy Hooves. It’s a pleasure to see you again. What brings you to Canterlot with such a,” pausing to suppress a laugh at the antics that just happened before her then she continues, “Momentous entrance? It must be important for you personally to come all the way here from Ponyville to see me. Normally, you would just give this to the Royal Mail Clerk at the train station.”
“Wow, you know my name?” Derpy chirps wide eyed at Celestia in question. Derpy shaking her head in wonder (we've only met a few times) but quickly she then turns back to her satchel to fish around with her mouth for something she remembers was important.
A few moments pass before a neatly folded envelope is produced and Derpy allows Celestia’s magic to take it from her. The envelope is an odd thing that is seldom seen since scrolls are the normal way to send correspondence. Actually envelopes are normally only used overseas where weather can easily ruin paper and the envelope acts as a secondary barrier against the elements when the letter cant be teleported; its rather novel concept.
The mail-mare then explains, “This letter was actually sent a loooong time ago but somehow got lost.”
It was then that the princess noticed the unmistakable scent of muffin batter wafting from the paper and a few stains on the white enclosure to the letter that hovers before her, but, she paid it no mind as Derpy continues.
“The letter was found finally and as a mail-mare I ALWAYS make sure the mail is delivered.” Says the young pegasus as she straightens up a little in pride and her wings ruffle in joy but almost like a light switch she looks down cast. “Sorry it took so long though.”
Shaking her own head the princess beams at her subject in admiration of a job well completed. “It wasn’t your intention to delay the mail, of that, I am sure. You did us an excellent service by taking responsibility and delivering it personally. Thank you, Derpy. You do your station credit.”
As if an explosion of pure happiness went off all over Derpy’s face, her eyes light up and her cheeks blush under the expanding pressure of an intense smile. She flies quickly up to embrace the Princess which only makes the stationed guards grumble but still hold their place below.
“Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!! That means SO MUCH to me! I was worried cause it took so long but now I can get back to everypony's mail without worry!” gushes the mare.
Patting Derpy on the back with a gold clad hoof as best as Celestia can as the excited mare presses in with abandon, the alicorn allows the hug and nuzzles back at the pegasus with a grin. Just as quickly the moment is over though and the grey mail-mare turns about to flitter on her way while humming a happy tune and no doubt ready to get back to her job.
Without word Celestia helps by opening the doors and allowing the mare to exit before turning back to her delivery.
When the room is cleared Celestia rips open the envelopes seal with a bit of her magic and says to herself with a chuckle, “My, how official looking. A wax seal AND signet impression. Not to mention all the international transfer stamps. I hope this wasn’t something that needed doing right away.” But to her credit she doesn’t remember getting any complaints or grumbling dignitaries from this house so it must be OK.
The letter unfolds under her manipulations and she begins to read:
To Their Royal Highnesses: The Princesses of Equestria,
Princess Celestia and Princess Luna; we hope this letter has found you both well after its long journey.
It has come to our attention that an outbreak has occurred within our borders of a most severe nature and we are in dire need of your assistance. Though we are currently investigating ways in which our efforts to eradicate the problem on our own may prevail; Time is of the essence and the situation grave.
We believe the dark empire of false Queen Chrysalis is attempting to siphon off our populous as the hive reforms far from your immediate sights and in these distant lands. We have little proof of this other than a few stray drones that have been captured disguised as servants, which were promptly imprisoned, and then just as quickly, mysteriously vanished from our cells. We are cautious so sent this request.
We also regret to mention the disappearance of family and friends that I, personally, held dear; that could be related to this directly or indirectly.
As your humble servants, we are taught to be gracious host but we feel being used as a “pit stop” along the way is rather rude, not to mention that raiding and/or killing the ponies of my province is a horror no families therein should have to suffer.
Please your highness-es, we implore you to send assistance as soon as possible even with the knowledge that this correspondence could take months to reach you. We have no dragons nearby nor the spells strong enough to send this simple missive overseas, so we will hold onto the hope that help arrives and it is not be too late.
The fear and distrust grows daily as do the dwindling numbers of my village, so please help.
I have the honor to remain, Your Highnesses’ most humble and obedient subject,
-Lord Neutral Knowledge
After rereading the letter once more the princess of Equestria and ruler of the sun gasps and rears back in shock and dismay from the letter like it was a striking viper. This certainly WAS in need of attention right away.
Without meaning to, Celestia executes the Canterlot voice and commands, “Guards! Fetch me Luna and assemble a squad of our fastest flyers from both our forces to be sent and investigate this matter immediately. My sister will understand me taking from her personal units but I must inform her and hope it is not too late to help!”
Quickly one of the guards salutes when it snaps around to his commander and chief then turning again it runs for the doors at full gallop.
Celestia helplessly watches him go and begins the painful task of awaiting her sister to show; whom most likely is asleep as Princess Luna is the night and it's currently Celestia’s daytime.
It doesn’t take long for the alternate princess to pop into existence before the throne and to her sisters aid but before she can even pose the question Celestia interrupts her and explains the letter feverishly with much hoof waving and unbecoming panic.
Celestia is not upset that the Queen has found a new victim per say, but that now it could very well be all too late to help her subjects in their darkest hour. Now that she thinks on it, since no representative showed up to ask why Celestia never responded to the letter, she figures it could only mean one of two things.
“Sister,” Celestia regains her composure and intones in her softer voice to the midnight black mare princess with the shimmering starlit sky for a mane and crescent moon cutie mark. “I fear either we are too late or now unneeded. Either way I may need you to search the dreams of the people of this region in hopes they still survive. I know it would be a strain at such a long distance and have to perform your duties on top of that could have dire effects, so, with your permission I would like to take this night's moon tonight.”
Luna nods her head in agreement and paws at the floor in irritation. Need Celestia even ask? Luna trust her completely. It is so obvious in fact that Luna states matter-of-factly (still in the Canterlot voice which she cant help to use when excited), “We also agree on this course of action sister. Thou shalt not needs worry over this trifle. We shall use all at our disposal to ensure the safety of thine and mine subjects, as is our duty. We know thou wilt relinquish the moon back to us on the morrow if all goes well.”
Without additional words, Luna leans in and wraps her neck partially around Celestia’s in a loving pony-sister hug. The contrast of white and black, of night and day, of what once was yin and yang; hold on to each other and draw power and strength from one another in preparations of the tasks to come.
Luna had once, not to long ago, been banished to the moon for her arrogance by Celestia. It’s a well-known story of misunderstandings, jealousy and greed, but also of redemption and love; for the two sisters were isolated from one another for a thousand years because of this and each suffered in turn.
Celestia had been tasked to raise both night and day from the moment Luna was cast to the heavens and exiled to the moon. But since Luna’s return and new found understanding of her position the princesses agreed not directly get involved with one another's station and with forgiveness; power over the night was restored to Luna. The two sisters also agreed that they loved and trusted each other too much to allow past mistakes to happen again.
Now however, after Luna had departed to make ready for her dream-trot to this far off land Celestia finds herself alone again and staring out from a balcony to the waning sun; having spent the day in worry and trying to prepare her self for tonight. It was never easy to project her magic and control two celestial bodies at once unlike two smaller objects like a scroll and fork. The sun dipping into the horizon and the moon rising and setting over the opposite end of Equestria was the equivalent in pain and strain to a night at one of Pinkie Pie’s hard cider parties and the aftermath it caused.
Celestia’s head throbbed without mercy and seems ready to explode at any moment even as she completes her spells. The sweat that drips from her efforts; bead up on her regal brow before sliding into her eyes briefly blinding her. Thankfully, when her sight returns she sees several shapes take flight from the courtyard below and zoom into the night with all the speed possible and finds it a welcome sight that makes the pains worth it.
To the guards taking flight with all haste that vanish quickly from her vision and to her sister that is currently across the way in another high tower that could not possible hear her, Celestia begs, “Please hurry, and don’t let it be too late.”
“Mother,” says Grim Rune in a whisper as he looks back on his empty village and home. “Good bye.”
The stallion continues to say his farewells mentally to his homeland. With a respectfully bowed head and after a moment or two of silence he starts this morning of mourning. The last few days he had spent in preparing to leave and the time it took to reach that decision has come and gone. Now it’s time for him to leave and to follow through with his plans.
With a shift of his flanks, Grim makes sure the travel packs behind him feel secured and he turns his back on the past. The crunch of stone under hoof as he begins to press forward into the forests around his little village is his only companion as he begins his travels. Seemingly, even the chirping birds respect him by remaining silent and allowing him his sorrow. The day is one of those warm days that is the norm of spring; a boring, sunny, blue skies type of day. Grim must follow the path away from his home and through the forests in order to escape his now private suffering. Those forest are a pointed reminder of everything he lost and he can’t raise his head to look at the bark or leaf. He keeps his head lowered to avoid those so familiar, so seductive hidden emotions that threaten to anchor him here. The shadows pass over his face as he walks sullenly in between the trees as sunbeams hang in the air’s stillness and each bright beam draws forth even more memories of the past few days.
That first day had been the worse for him. He did not eat nor did he take water. No. Grim did nothing but remain in his room and sob uncontrollably after losing everything he held dear in this world. He had promised to lock up all emotion that dawn as he watched the changeling fly away and mock him, but it seemed harder for him to do than first thought. The pain on his heart pressing down into his gut; filled him with tears until they came spilling out. Emotions are not tamed so easy as a promise.
The second day was much the same but that is only because when he finally fell into a fitful sleep on his wet pillow, he had awoke and thought it all to be a nightmare brought on by Princess Luna for his anger over the princesses not helping to save his peoples. No such luck. As he rushed into the room where his mother (ha, that pretender) had been laying, he found nothing but the damage his wrath brought and another stabbing in his chest.
It wasn’t until the fourth day that he was driven by hunger and thirst to really think about his situation. There, sitting in the kitchen and flinging a piece of bread with his magic at a brave mouse, Grim form his plan to take to the road and leave the pain behind. The action of moving on was what his father and mother would want and also the most logic of choices. There was nothing here for him anymore but bitterness and lonely hallways and eventual death.
Now, after starting his journey, he is plodding alone, forever alone, with nothing but his bitterness as company towards a destination he doesn’t know. He’s merely hoping as he searches this world he gets a chance to correct past mistakes and also to confront Celestia and her sister. To do what? Take over? Make sure the injustice that happened to him doesn’t happen to others? Surely with enough power….
The shadows around him deepen in the waning afternoon before he knows it, so lost in his thoughts, and it does little to his mood save to stoke the burning growing in his heart for the princesses; not the love kind of burning either but the hateful vengeance of loss.
“It’s all their fault.” Spits Rune to himself in a hungry hate.
The white unicorn stallion comes to a clearing between the tree lines as the day carries on into evening; an open field of sleeping flowers and windblown grasses. He lifts his chin and gazes up high above with dark rimmed eyes. For his efforts he gets greeted by Luna’s moon as it begins to rise on one side of the sky in a darken blue of night and with a shining pale face; on the other side of the skyline shimmers the orange and pinks of the sun being lowered in opposition. He figures the road lead in a steady southern direction and that he may have gotten to see the cycle from a faraway land as he draws close on his revenge but this early into his trip the stunning sight is just a twisting of the knife in his gut that tells him he is still so far off from his goals.
Moments later the howl breaks the night from behind him somewhere in the forest. He mutters, “Just perfect.” Before taking off at a run down the road that cuts the field in twain. His body is tired from a full days walk but he demands of it more power as he presses on towards the trees in the distance that will offer him shelter from what is coming. On instinct Grim can feel the expertly constructed wards on the far trees that he is running towards, some internal compass that allows him to feel the magic calling to him. The magic is a faint spark that hums in the air and crackles on the skin but it is old; far older and stronger than anything he has felt before.
Miles wide, the gap between tree lines must have been a result of clear cutting or some old forest fire and now as he is being chased; Grim feels this path between forests is a death trap. The gentle hills, the grasses, and the steady carved road could make anyone feel safe but when you are alone at night….
The sweat beads on his coat as he suffers a look back and a closer and louder howl pierces the night. Glowing lights behind the trees are moving behind him and he turns back around to see if he can gauge how far away he is from keeping his life in the safety of the warded tree line.
“Why… (Pant) me? Why… (Pant) me? Why… me?” Grim chants in a mantra to the night as he gasps for air to quench the burning in his lungs with the effort of his run and glistening with his sweaty fears.
Just then, behind him, it happens. The wilds of the woods move and from the line burst several dark wolf shapes but they are not your typical woodland beast. Each about the size of a pony and supported by eight hair covered legs; the pack of three wolf spiders emerge from the forests behind Grim Rune. The spider wolf markings usually allow them blend in with the forest but in the open field like this, one can see them in all the glory or horror they are. As if taking the chest and head of a wolf and just sewing it onto a giant spider’s body and calling it a life form; they hunt and act more like wolves but scuttle and brood like spiders.
The alpha of the wolf spider trio pauses and leans forward as it’s spiny hind legs come up behind where spinnerets should be on the bulbous abdomen and rub together in an almost cricket like way. The sound it produces is anything but a gentle chirp but the stuff of terrors and myth.
The rear legs have a hollowed chamber and a cord like ligament. When rubbed just so, a dead hallow –arrrrrrrooooo- is made as if a bow was brought across a cello’s strings and the sound rolls through the field in warning and want to the prey that hears it. The alpha is calling more of its pack no doubt as it had just found diner for its brood. To the sides of the alpha are nervous slightly smaller versions of their leader, each looking just as deadly and dangerous but not as large. Steadily they keep site of the fleeing pony form with eight yellow glowing eyes and perked fur covered ears and it is almost as if they are awaiting orders to give chase.
“Just a little more, almost…. (gasp) There…” Grim lowers his head as he tops another hill. The froth on his muzzle thick and the sweat drips to the ground in his dust trail. He isn’t sure why the spiders are waiting but he is glad he is about to escape him.
Grim hears them moving loudly behind him. The rustling and breaking of branches, the howl stops and the night seems to get cold. Wolf spiders don’t have vocal cords, or throats. Much like the arachnid, they bite into victims and inject dissolving liquids to turn the prey to pulp and side mandibles are uses to puncture and slurp out the spidery soup. When Spider wolves attack they are often silent and deadly.
“No… Rune… Soup… For you!” declares the fleeing pony as he dares to look back to see how close to death he is. He doesn’t see the spider creatures but he does see several paths in the field’s grass that wave violently and are coming towards him in parallel formation to the path.
Rune feels his front hoof catch on something and suddenly his fleeing momentum throws him forward and into a rolls as he crashes down to the ground. Dazed, Grim lays there panting and bruised up but that is not the worst of it; He feels something is wrong. Grim tries to get up but that front limb that tripped him up gives out under his weight when he tries to stand on it and he feels his muzzle slam into the ground when he tumbles again. The pain is shocking but he tries to shake off the spinning of the world and get up again but his vision is fading. Once again, fate deals him a blow and he chuckles internally at how rotten his luck is. He was so close to the forest wards. Couldn’t have been more than five meters to go and he would have survived yet another ordeal.
Grim thinks to himself as he waits for his doom, ‘I guess revenge isn't in my cards.’
The rustling surrounds him and as the world is going dim and coming back into his vision as he fights off fainting; he understands something. Being brave isn’t about doing something because it is dangerous. Being brave is facing that danger head on and with open eyes. He will, with his last strength, face these vicious creatures and laugh at them as they choke on his blood.
Grim Rune never gets the chance really.
“Oh,” says a tiny and unknown voice from somewhere near Grim, “The poor pony has plummeted into pansies and awaits to perish. Can’t have that now. Can we?”
Rune can’t focus on the mystery, he can’t even chase the voice for a second because even as his ears swivel to track the voice, right before him and about to pounce is one of the spider creatures. Death stares back at Rune as the wolf spider open’s its mull with an evil hiss and dripping hungry juices. The wolf is silenced and with a sickening snap some long pole like object snaps its head to the side and quickly dispatches the foe.
Several more bodies are launched skywards as the Spider wolves jump to pounce on what they perceive as downed prey but there is a flash and one of them are knocked back with a bolt of sizzling lightening, another spider wolf is turned to ash instantly under the roar of fire from some small being in a dark cloak that is now protecting the white unicorn. The remaining spider wolf attackers pauses as if considering their options.
Rune believes he sees the glint of green under that cloak of earthen brown the tiny savior wears but he can’t be too sure as his strength gives out and his head lulls to the side to land in the dirt. Rune never does see the battle end, nor does he see the remaining spider wolves flee. All Grim Rune sees is blackness from behind his lids. That calm oblivion that is both healing and damning.
The unknown voice turns to see the downed pony with the broken horn and –tsks-. The tiny brown cloaked figure will have to get them both somewhere safe. Wolf packs like those usually have greater numbers and there is no reason to risk fighting them all when He and the Unicorn are so close to home.
“Yes. Home, Rest. Poor pony put on pillows.” And the shifting of fabric, fur, and the tap of a stick is heard in Rune’s fitful dreams as they finally come and a sense of floating in the blissful darkness.
The next morning is unforgiving to the weary as Celestia’s sun blazes in on Grim Rune’s face from a window. The accusing orb of the day’s grace bites bitterly into a pony’s throbbing head when he first peels open his eyes after another sleep full of galloping nightmares. He begins to think to himself, ‘Ever since I learned of what happened at the castle I’ve been having a lot of…ni…ght… huh?’
The unicorn bolts up from out of his simple coverings and winces as the blood rushes to the already pounding headache. This isn’t his room Grim thinks as he lifts a hoof to his temple and tries to take even breaths to stop the rush of pain. He feels the cotton wrappings that surround his skull and dimly he remembers striking his head hard on the ground yesterday.
Grim forgets his discomfort for a moment as he looks slowly around. He is in a single large room sparsely furnished with low to the ground items. The bed he sleeps on seems small, and not just because he grew up with ones three times his size to lay in. No, this single mattress seems to have been built for a filly or colt maybe half his size. In fact, from book shelf and lantern, to chairs and tables, everything seems tiny, simple, and efficient. The tiniest thing that is in the mud hut that Rune can now notice is a hunched over figure that stares into a fire and stirs the contents of a caldron with a wooden spoon. The figure has yet to notice the white unicorn or doesn’t seem to care that its guest, or, maybe diner, is awake.
The choices available to Grim Rune are: 1. Alert this thing that Rune is awake and suffer the consequences. 2. Carefully get up and make his way to the bags by the doorway as quietly as he can to make his escape.
After all he has been through, Rune really doesn’t want to take his chances with a stranger. Who knows what this thing that hides in its clothing like that could be planning for the poor injured stallion. Only ponies that are nefarious cloak themselves like that Grim thinks. Clothing is made for showing off or concealing something so, the choice is obvious. Quietly, Rune gets out of bed and is thankful the floor is made of earth. This is the perfect set up for a creaky floor to give away his intentions of escape. He doesn’t use magic as the hum might give him away but he does keep his eyes on the figure that is tending to the bubbling caldron. Slowly the white unicorn with broken horn inches closer and closer to freedom but it is taking an aching amount of time. He watches the back of the cloak as he gets close to his bag and reaches for it when his escape is interrupted.
“Leaving so soon? Not going to have breakfast? Awful rude of you considering your life was saved and my bed was given up to you.” The voice from the cloak chides as Rune is caught in the act of leaving.
“I, do not mean any disrespect, but, I am low on trust these days.” Rune responds but thinks better of it after a moment and adds as he drops the bags by the door again and turns to the figure at the fire. “My humble apologies. I just realized that if you intended me harm; you would not have dressed my wounds or given me refuge. Please forgive my ignorance.”
A laugh, tiny and light, fills the room. A tiny laugh that can only come from the mirthfully shaking shoulders of the cloaked cook diminutive form. This reaction by the host brings a frown to Grim Rune’s face and his pride takes a small jab which he will not let stand.
“Why are you laughing? Was I not being humble enough to please you? Shall I prostrate myself and beg since it was –you- to obviously come to my rescue?” Grumbling in irritation and pent up frustration, Rune walks towards the cloaked figure and is sure if he stomps some manners into the tiny being he would then accept his apologies.
“Dragons,” pauses the voice with almost a smile in his words, “My little pony, Have excellent hearing. Your heavy tread intones your intent. Wish to throttle me eh? Teach me a lesson?” slowly the small figure turns from the fire and cauldron before pulling back the cloaks hood to reveal himself.
A green scaled snout filled with a tooth grin looks over Rune as the unicorn is stunned mid-step to come to a halting stop. The dragon Grim stares at, if one could call it a dragon and not lizard, looks old with fine age. Though most this dragon’s age should be the size of a mountain and hoarding a kingdom, this one is as tiny as the first boulder to roll off a mountain and could barely hoard a cup of sugar from ants.
“you…are…a…?” Rune stammers.
“Dragon.” The tiny figure reaffirms plainly before continuing, “Yes, we are.” Scoffing the dragon waves a claw and the wooden spoon that he clenches in the air dismissing the stammers of his guest. “We know, we know. We should be much bigger, fiercer, and greedier looking with golden hordes and treasure bold.” turning back to whatever he is doing in the caldron he adds with finality, “Have a seat. You’re not going anywhere and breakfast is ready.”
Simply too dumbfounded to resist; Rune complies and sits at the small dining table off to the side near some neatly stacked with a cup and water pitcher. This whole home screams hermit in the most cliché’ way but Rune holds his comments as he waits for an explanation.
As Runes gaze wander around and he notes a few things that catch the pony’s eye, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of bowl and wooden spoon hitting the table before him. Focusing in on it, he sees it is a bowl of some unappetizing mush and he can’t hide his distaste as he lifts up his eyes and stares at his small companion.
“What?” questions the diminutive figure while staring back with silver glinting eyes at Rune. “We thought ponies LIKED oats? This paste is called oat meal and it is just what your body needs to heal.” Then as an afterthought the little dragon –ahs- in understanding and notices what he is missing and why the cold grey gunk is so stomach turning to the uneducated.
The dragon brings up his claws and does some motion in the air. The tips of his claws shimmer and an array of fresh fruits come to being on the table between Rune and himself. Berries of all shapes and sizes from red to green. Oddly enough a bowl even contains some famed zap-apples but Rune would never presume to take one of those. They are worth a small fortune!
Taking a few berries of this and that, the mush before the dragon is decorated in color and seems much more appealing. In step with his savior, Rune uses his broken horn carefully to float over his share of fruits and will try the mush with them mixed in as well.
The dragon takes slow bites as he watches Rune intently moves small amounts of fruit into his bowl. The host notices the strain each time a new gathering of fruit floats up into the air, hovers above the bowl, and the relief on Rune’s face as soon as the berries are let go to plop into the oatmeal.
“We thought that ‘corns were able to do that trick all the time? You seem to be having much trouble. Is it the head injury?” innocently asks the baby like dragon with the age’s etched on his scaly face.
Bitterly Rune says, “No. If you can’t tell, you doddering fool, my horn is broken and simple tasks are no longer simple for a cripple like me.” And the words come out in venom and heated resentment that Rune did not wholly intend but gets the point made.
“Ah, we see. So a broken horn cripples you?” taking a mouth full of mush the host then taps the wooden spoon on his chin in thought which smear stray gunk there.
“It does. Without my horn I am partly cut off from magic.” Is the reply.
“Cut off from magic?” Questions the dragon, “If we remember our teachings, your corn-horn allows you to focus the energy. Like I do with my fingers” to demonstrate he wiggles his claws once more and the wooden spoon besides Rune’s bowl suddenly has an earth pony strap on it. “You’re not missing the horn completely so why does a break cause you so much distress?”
Not liking the subject Rune opts to put on the spoon to his forelimb and stuff his mouth with the breakfast glop. He hopes it will at least be eatable but is overwhelmed with surprise at how good the stuff taste especially the fruits. Quickly he suppresses a smile that creeps on his face and goes about the task of eating. Before he knows it, several bowls were filled and finished in a deeply shared silence as his host unerringly tended to his guest.
“So, pony. Now that you are full with food. Do you think you are ready to answer the question from earlier? Why does it matter if your horn is broken?” The dragon goes about the tasks of clearing the table as Rune sits in thought but doesn’t give an answer.
The table is cleared in short order with the help of magic but for the dishes; they are one by one washed out in a little sink and set aside to dry on a fine linen towel. The time does Rune good and he chooses to answer the dragon “Well dragon…”
“Puff.” Interrupts the small dragon as he takes off his cloak and hangs it on a hook near the back wall. He is typical and green scaled but now seems to wear an unusual article about his neck that Rune never saw before.
“You’re Puff the magic Drag…” begins Rune in a deadpan voice.
“Tut tut. Puff is fine. We are not much on formalities when you get to be as old as us.” States the little green thing as it waddles over to a chair and takes a seat. Waving a hand he waits for Rune to come over and join him.
Rune, with his head lowered and ears flattened with disgust over the revelation of who the dragon is, just becomes more annoyed then anything but he does trot over to be seated on the opposite chair across from Puff.
“I thought you were a myth. A tale. I think there is a song?” Rune seems unsure as he talks to his host and lists off possibilities. This only brings a chuckle in response from the dragon. Expectantly Rune is flicking his ears to and fro; the unicorn waits for his explanation.
“Yes, Stories are told, Songs are sung, and most of both are exaggerations. That is why we merely want you to relax and call us Puff.” Settling back he crosses his claws over his portly looking belly and he regards Grim Rune in a scrutinizing way.
“Let us just say that we are old. We having abilities that come with that age, and we ultimately want to help you with your troubles.”
Growling, Rune flinches at the offer of help. He thinks about what a myth could help him with and comes up with nothing. As he sits here in this mud hut and talking to a dragon he starts to wonder if this is Tartarus and if he is being tormented at the beginning of eternity.
“If this was the Abyss, you would not be having breakfast with berries and oatmeal. You wouldn’t be having a pleasant conversation with a Mythic Being. And you wouldn’t be able to continue on your way after we take our payment of time from you.” He pauses and waves a claw, “After all, we did save your life. It is a debt you will need to repay.”
“WHAT?!” Roars Rune in a question of outrage and confusion (Can he read my mind?!).
“It will not be long. I say, maybe a week to start you on your way and then you can leave.” Answers the dragon as he puffs a pink smoke ring into the air over his own head from his snout in an calm way even with the unicorns outburst. Odd, usually dragon smoke is black or grey.
Rune stares in silence as he weighs his options. What choice does he have? It is now a matter of honor for the unicorn to repay his debt. His life was saved by this little pest and now he will need to stay here in service. He expects at any moment the dragon is going to grow an inch or two at the greedy proclamation he just posed. With a sigh, Rune’s shoulders slump and he hangs his head.
“Oh, now now. Don’t be like that. We promise to make the payment as short on you as possible. We know how to help and that is how you will pay us, by humbly allowing us to begin your healing beyond what you are already getting.” Says the dragon and he makes the deal between the pony and him, final.
Rune merely looks up and tilts his head in confusion at Puff. With one misstep he feels his life just increased the level of difficulty once more.
“No. Again. Please try it again.” A reproachful sounding request is made of the tiny voice in the gardens outside a simple shack which has been Grim Rune’s prison these last several days.
Puff the Dragon, pulls at weeds in his garden and seems disinterested with the antics that are going on over his shoulder. He tugs at the mighty roots of a dandy-lion and with a snip of claws, separates it into compost and usable(s) which he will dry to make tea. He tries to make sure nothing goes to waste as everything has a use, even bumbling unicorns.
“I still don’t understand why you are making me do this foolishness!” groans and exasperated Rune as he balances on his rear hooves while on a flat board and rolling barrel underneath.
Rune shifts his weight one way and the board tips up the other which forces his to counter balance and the bucket above his head, captured in magic, swivels dangerously with a sloshing liquid. Yesterday it was creamed corn.
Back and forth he rocks and all the while he uses his feebly glowing horn to hover the bucket above his head. The more he wiggles, the more he seems to almost tip but he has been doing this close to a week by now. Rune, clown to the most famous dragon in history for an entire week. Watch him as he balances on boards. Reel as he strives to perfect his understanding of various cultures and get quizzed about Griffons, Minotaur, and other species that don’t use direct magic. What a waste of…
“Wh-wh-whoa… hold on! What are you do-“the sentence is never finished as his thighs and lower back go out and all comes tumbling down. It looked accidental but he could swear Puff intentionally bumped the board with his tail as he stood with his baskets of herbs and weed parts.
First Rune lands on his flanks and then, plop, a bucket lands right side over onto his broken horn and spills the contents to soak his mane. He grimaces in anticipation as to what horror it is this time but is shocked to find it is only water! Well, At least it was only water for once, his luck must be changing.
The tiny dragon hides his smile behind a puff of pink smoke and says. “I think you have mastered the exercise but fail to understand its teachings.” He pauses and looks over the wet white stallion and then continues, “But, the good news is, I think you are about ready to head on your way. Your time here is at an end.” He pauses and walks with baskets towards the front of his home, “come. Tonight you shall have a final meal and then on your way you must go.”
This causes Rune to stumble as he gets up off the ground and the bucket falls to cover his eyes. He is blinded but asks almost desperately, “you are kicking me out?! What have I done to offend?! Have I not done all the tasks you asked? I toiled and answered your questions about the world. I practice combat with a stick clenched in my hooves or teeth. I played your balancing act game. Why cast me out?!” Lifting his bucket from his eyes, Rune sees a flash of sadness pass over the tiny dragons face, as if he knows something and is hiding it.
Quickly, his smile is returned and he says to the stallion, “you have the basics of what you need to know to heal. Tonight I will ask you what you learned and why I taught you that which you currently feel is useless. For now... THINK on it. Dry off, and once you are done packing, we will sit down for tonight’s dinner. I have two last test for you.”
The white stallion stares for a moment while his hoof removes the bucket from his head and a line of hair crosses one of his eyes. He is about ready to protest but quickly he swallows his emotions and nods in a dignified way. He stands and tosses the bucket in the direction of the well wall, not too far away, and goes to take a run to dry off as commanded.
As the white stallion heads off, Puff can’t help but shake his head sadly and say to himself. “That one, Out of all those I have touched as a friend, is like a jar of pickles. It’s hard to open up and sour inside.”
Sometime later, just before the fear of the setting sun drives Rune to Puff’s home, he is greeted by wondrous smells which waft from the chimney in the dragon’s roof and are carried on the winds. His stomach growls in frustration at not being filled with whatever smells so delicious.
He gets closer and flicks his ears to and fro while he listens to humming and singing coming out to him from the entrance. In the time he has been here, he has been used to seriousness and focus but tonight it seems celebratory and joyous. Rune frowns as he pauses and tilts his head in thought, (I guess he is happy to finally be rid of me. A freeloader he had to rescue. A useless, and powerless being that would be dead now if it wasn’t for this little dragon’s mercy.)
He shakes out of his selfishness with a sigh and then he hears some lyrics.
… ” lived by the sea and frolicked in the autumn mist in the land of…”
The clang of a pot top hitting the cauldron inside drowns out the song by the lyrics pick right up.
“… would travel on a boat with billowed sail Rune kept a lookout perched on the mascots tail. Noble Princesses and Princes would bow whene'er they came Pirate ships would raise their flags when Grim Rune roared out his name”
The song sounds a little off like some of it is being forced but the white stallion is a little taken aback and shocked at the content he has overheard. His savior has made up a song about him while he was feeling sorry for himself like a foolish colt and is singing it to himself merrily as he cooks and it is all about Grim Rune, as if he was like some mighty folk hero from a story of adventure. The princesses bowing to him? Would a broken form like his ever be able to really achieve that??
Anger flares in him and quickly Rune stomps into the room with a bellow, “Puff! I know this is our last night and you are kicking me out but to mock… me… twice….” The anger in the white stallion fades as quickly as it comes as his eyes go wide and he looks around and he is left in stunned silence.
The room is made bright by roaring fire and candles with dancing flame for the first time since he has been here and every inch of shadow in the room seems to have disappeared. Paper streamers with runes display well wishes of a safe journey and congratulations. The table is set with all sorts of fruits and vegetables which he has never seen before. He had only been gone such a short while and yet this little elderly figure whipped up a feast, no, a farewell party in his honor!
“Well Rune, come in. come in. Your timing is just about perfect. Tonight we will see what you have learned and in the morning, you continue on your life’s journey.” Speaks the tiny dragon as he makes squares with sticky rice and places some odd pink thing on top of it in perfectly cut portions.
Nodding and keeping his tongue, the stallion finds his usual spot at the table and sniffs at several things he doesn’t look sure about but leaves them alone for now. His stomach growls again in want but he is well refined in the arts of being a guest and awaits the host to join the table before taking a nibble at a red delicious looking apple.
Puff finally waddles over and looks to be balancing two bowls, one in each claw, and a plat of those funny looking white rice squares topped with several unidentified items. The odor from the plate is pungent and hits Rune’s nostrils right away but, tact, is needed after all this work so holds his tongue a little while longer.
“Puff, this is all.” The pause is longer then he intended but Rune presses on, “amazing. I have never seen half of this food in my life and to do all the decoration in such a short time!”
Puff chuckles to himself and sets down a watery looking broth soup with fresh leeks and bean curds floating in a bowl before his house guest and then one at his seating place also. Between him and Grim, Puff then sits down the dish of strong smelling items and takes his seat as is normal.
Instantly the white stallion is both curious and repulsed and stares for a long moment at the alien food.
“Sushi.” Chimes in the dragon.
“Sue, she who?” asks the curious stallion with a head tilt to his host.
“No Grim.” Says the dragon suppressing a chuckle and using his friends first name, “The dish is called Sushi and the soup is called Miso.”
“Me so. Miso. Miso! Sushi and miso.” Repeats the pony in eagerness to please.
The tiny dragon’s claws clap as he nods his approval.
Rune lets a small smile slip onto his face but then locks it away to return to that curious stare, this time at his host. He doesn’t ask the question though and just waits.
“So, I can see the questions in your eyes and you are waiting for me to give way for you to ask or to inform you as to what all this is about. I said I had tests for you and yet you come back to a table of foreign foods.”
Grim Rune nods at the dragon.
“Well Rune, This is the test. Think about what I have taught you in our short time and answer me this. What have you learned?” Puff asks the question and looks up into the air to idly blow smoke rings for his amusement.
The stallion begins, “Well. You tried to tell me that I am limited by my own understanding of magic and that many cultures in the world can do various magic without a horn. Some of this I already know; like an earth pony having a larger amount of strength or Pegasus being able to move clouds. But knowing where the magic comes from is more important so that it can be tapped and used to its fullest extent. Chaos, Harmony, and Tartarus magic are fundamentally all just different aspects of the same thing and how one gains access to them can vary on things like culture or creature.”
Inhaling sharply since it seems his explanation is not only long winded, but also, not really answering the question, Grim muddles on while thinking about the right way to answer this. Maybe if he gets it right, he WONT be asked to leave. “Magic just needs typically one of two ways to be worked. A natural way like Pegasus, or a focal way like unicorns horns or enchanted items like a staff. So magic is neutral and unless you have a way to use it, it is nothing but ambient background.” Rune waits and Puff seems more intent on blowing circles within circles above his head then to say yes or no to the explanation. So, the stallion rushes out more information.
“T-t-the balancing was, I assume. to teach me more focus since my broken horn makes it harder to do spells and, ummm.” Nervousness now creeps into his voice as Puff remains disinterested but still Rune presses on, “Ummm and, enchanted items require more time but can be made if you know how. Like that paper above is a blessing spell, subtle and in runes but is supposed to make me feel safer and less nervous about departing tomorrow.”
The dragon stops and looks down at the white stallion with the broken horn. A few moments pass and finally Puff says, “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” He grins a broad smile and says “you first. Pick anything you like and you may ask one question about it but if you do, you must eat it. Deal?”
Nodding, Grim Rune turns back to the table. His ears go flat as he guesses the answer he gave was either too amateurish or not the right one. He isn’t sure! It’s like unraveling a mystery when one doesn’t know the right place to start and has no clues. He will need to meditate on that some later.
“I wonder what the other part of the test is. Am I supposed to figure out how all this weird food works into what you have taught me?”
Puff pauses and claps his claws in glee, “Rune!” yells the dragon in happiness, “you are exactly right. This food IS related to your lessons.” The stallion says in reply, “Then I agree to your terms. I will ask only one question about anything I chose but I will tell you this. I see some things I know and many I don’t. I think one lesson is,” there is a pause as he picks up the miso soup in his magic and carefully raises it to his lips, “To not shy away from the unknown.” He sniffs at it and forgoes his question as he daringly takes a sip of it. The broth is, simple, soothing and charming. The lump of curd is elegant and yet, not filling. The soup seems like more of a secondary ordeal in place of the main course.
Puff follows suit and sips at his soup as well. When he sees, or better yet, hears no questions coming. He finishes off his bowl and places it back down to await his guest’s next pick. Staring at the sushi, Rune thinks on the possibilities of it a few moments. Rice he knows of, obviously, but what are the pink lumps that smell so strong and salty.
Shaking his head he turns to the bowls of various goodies and picks out something that looks like an apple but clearly is not. The body is round and the peel is rather firm and red like an apple but also like a tomato, so he asks his first question, “Is this a fruit or a vegetable?” The reply is simple enough, “It is a fruit called a pomegranate. Much like an orange I do not suggest eating the peel but the insides, seeds and all, are delicious.”
Nodding his head once more, Rune places the fruit on his plate and uses a knife to slice it open to reveal a huge amount of packed seeds. It is one of the weirdest fruits he has ever seen! To eat this he will have to spoon it out almost like a stew. But the TASTE! Oh the taste is so worth it! Tangy and sweet and so many textures. Hard seeds, soft fruit, and all of it good.
The dragon follows suit and also eats one with his companion. All the while Puff notices his guest staring in thought at the plate of sushi. He knows it will come around to that but for now he will play along.
“Avocado. Banana. Jalapeno. Hay fries.”
This question and answer game goes on for a while as the stallion samples most of the foods he is curious about but finally he picks up a piece of sushi and places it on the plate. He stares at it for a long moment and even pokes the curious pink bit on top. He opens his mouth but the dragon cuts him off.
“Rune.” Says the dragon in a soft and almost fatherly tone as he gives his warning again, “Remember our deal. If you ask a question about the food, you must eat it.”
Grim Rune stares at the single piece and then looks back to the plate which has several more. He has made up his mind to risk it and takes a SECOND piece. “This should mean I get two questions then.”
The dragon replies, “Fair enough.” As he hides his grin behind a stone like poker stare.
The seconds tick by as the white stallion examines the food from all angles and Puff watches in stoic silence. Rune thinks it is sticky rice, salt, some type of spinach holding that pink stuff on top but he just can’t place what it is!
“OK Puff. What is this pink wiggly stuff on top of the white rice and where does this weird food come from so I can possibly avoid it at all cost?” He was going to ask if it was poison because of the smell but, his friend wouldn’t do that to him, Rune hopes.
And yet….
“Sushi is from the same place as the miso soup. Both come from the culture of the Griffons. Griffons tend to live on high cliffs near oceans, so, that pink stuff is the most ready food source for them. Not having the magic the same way Pegasus can make themselves lighter, Griffons need protein to build muscle. Never wondered why other beings like dragons and griffons need large bodies to fly and yet Pegasus don’t?”
Grim Rune shakes his head no, but nods silently as he looks a little green around the gills now and he turns his stare back to the plate of food. Most likely Grim Rune has figured it out what sushi could be with that small explanation from Puff the Dragon but the dragon continues on.
“Sushi, is a lightly steamed or broth cooked fish placed on a bed of rice and wrapped with seaweed. My boy, you are about to go from herbivore to omnivore.”
Puff removes two pieces for himself and waits for Grim. Puff doesn’t pressure him or make fun of his hesitation but merely waits like a good host playing the diner game with his guest.
The white stallion turns a shade of green and then ghostly white as it is explained to him what it is and where it is from and that his staring at the sushi will not make it vanish suddenly. He mutters to himself about “never going to a griffon village…” before floating up the first piece of sushi and opening his mouth.
The scent of the fish almost makes him gag but, he is Grim Rune and will not back down from his promise. He was an aristocrat and will not back out on his word when given. No! To make his mother and father proud, he shoves the first piece in his mouth and chews as quickly as he can. The flat teeth mash and squish the odd textures and he tries not to look ready to pass out. The second chew, and the flavor that is making his stomach turn is starting to fade as his head feel light, but by the third chew though, and this surprises him completely, Grim doesn’t seem to mind the taste. He, Grim Rune the White stallion pony, in fact, starts to examine the flavor for what it is. A new experience. He places another piece in his mouth and begins the ritual all over. At first he braces for the same reaction and sudden assault of the unknown on his pallet but no, now he seems to be used to the idea a little and it is intriguing that a living being could be so, well… tasty. A mingling of, sensation and give. Like a soft fruit and yet fibrous like a leaf. He can’t place it but he thinks it, really isn’t so bad. The rice melts the fish’s bitterness and brine with a sweetness. Sushi is truly a balanced work of art and GRIFFONS, hard beaked, rude, tough and tumble bird brains, thought of it. “So this is fish.” he muses aloud and reaches up to stroke his chin in thought. Fish is like nothing he has ever had before. He couldn’t see himself requesting to eat it but if he had a need, he thinks he could eat it again without revulsion.
Puff pipes up and says, “I think for now, this concludes our game. Maybe when you are on your way you will figure out the entire meaning behind this but I am hungry. Let’s dig in!”
Rune and Puff attack the various foods and changes the subject to what is next for Rune. Puff is a little vague and speaks about traveling and following the stallion’s nose; whatever that means.
A story of something called a boy is told by Puff and the original song lyrics sung for Grim Rune as the night pressed on around them and Rune’s savior celebrates this final night with his ward.
Rune never couldn’t figure out what eating food from all over the world has to do with anything else he learned or how it tied into facing your fears and never back down from a challenge; as the night was a blur of activity, songs, and festival. When the stallion’s mouth parts with finally his biggest of yawns yet and is scuttled to bed by an insistent dragon, the questions fade from his mind all together to be sorted out later.
Puff the dragon has chosen not only to set up the party but to also take care of clean up while Grim Rune snuggles down under the covers. In the background Puff could be heard humming his song once more as the clatter of cleaning plays along like a band. The song is soothing and soon Rune is fast asleep as the world fades around him.
The birds chirping and the glare of sunlight hitting his eyelids begin to wake Rune up slowly from his deep slumber. He must have kicks off the covers in the night as they are no longer warming him from the mornings chill and he shivers almost uncontrollably. “Puff?” He calls with grogginess as he flicks open his eyes and winces at the light while rubbing at them while clenching his eyelids closed again. In that short time with his eyes open, he could have sworn he just saw through a pink haze of smoke like a fog and there was no walls around him.
Slowly he opens his eyes and shields his vision from Celestia’s sun. He looks around and finds himself laying in the softest bed of grass he has ever felt under a tree that tried to keep the sun from him but the bed where he fell asleep, the house, and all that he has known for the last days since the Wolf Spiders, is gone. He looks around and gets up to his hooves in alarm while calling out.
“Puff??”
No answer so Rune bellows out. “PUFF?!”
Still nothing and even the birds have gone silent under his frantic call to his friend. Running around he finds the spot where the home he has been sitting is empty, the little garden area bare of plants, and the water well nonexistent. He knows the spots around here and that they are burned into his memory for over the last week and yet it is almost like the home was never there and it was all a hallucination.
After a while, Rune goes back to the spot under the tree where he woke and finds his belongings packed and waiting for him. He is suppressing the feeling of betrayal and rage as he just sits in the spot he woke up and listens to the empty wind rustle the leaves above. With eyes gleaming wet, he turns to his bags and is astonished to find a note pinned there in the delicate runes he saw on the banner last night.
Opening the note, Grim reads:
Grim Rune,
"You are ready to move on and I have done all I can to help you on your journey. There are those young ones out there that dearly need a friend, a mentor, a guiding claw, and a song. You, for over the last week or two have gained enough of your life back to seek out the rest of it and to complete the goals you set. Know if it was my choice, I would stay by your side forever but colts don’t last forever and my roar soon fades like the mists. Alas, in this world, my time is limited in any one spot and I go where I am most needed so with a heavy heart I must leave you. I hope, you learned the lessons well. If not, I will be the only one to blame."
-PTMD
Rune looks at the glowing sheet of parchment and reads the words a second time. He was abandoned by the dragon that saved him, that treated him like a friend. He was left under a tree as the dragon sneaks off into the night for someone else?! Rune is about to rumple the parchment in anger but then, it too begins to fade into pink mist and the smell of Puffs smoke lingers for a few moments with just his signature.
