> Fallen-Song
>  by Chicago Ted
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prelude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In days of old, when still remain’d the two,
Celestia pull’d her golden sun from blue,
Then Luna hurl’d her moon into the sky –
And thus begun the cyclic night anew.

As ’twas each eve, the ponies did comply
With this heavenly curfew, said goodbye
To daylight, as they shutter’d in their home
(Well, save for those who thought themselv’s so sly).

The solar sister lookt, and saw them roam
And scurry out of sight of lunar chrome.
“See they such light as omen ill?” she askt
Aloud. “’Tis but a motion of the dome.”

Yet Luna paid no mind, but simply baskt
In glory hers, her true delight unmaskt
For all the world to see. She said, “Forsooth,
Despite these petty fears, I am yet taskt

With taking over for your court of truth,
For anyone who dares to see my couth.”
She sigh’d, and stood. “How bored I often get.
O how I wish we still were in our youth,

To frolick in some verdant field sans fret,
Or maybe hike through Everfree, I’ll bet.
Equestria’s rulers ought to get a lull –
But for our powers so great, such is our debt.

For ev’ry night’s the same, such drear so dull,
With all my thoughts it leav’s me time to mull.
How I desire for one to come and talk
And interrupt the speech inside my skull.”

“But soft! my sister, know that one shall knock
And ask for audience with you.” Luna’s shock
At Sister’s talking did Celestia note.
“Perhaps not on this night, but be no rock.

A guard may come for Your Grace to promote,
Or else the Council may send f’ you to vote,
Or any other thing may happen still –
But I beg, on these thoughts you must not quote.

You see such duties as mere time to kill,
Since likely you should rest your ink and quill
In utter boredom, awaiting something more.
And yet, this is worth more than any thrill:

I’ve sat through my share of ennui before,
Yet then to see a pony come – therefore,
Whichever might pass through the castle hall,
I ask – nay, pray – stray not from this our shore.”

Thus Luna said, “And yet, why serve at all
When most dear subjects are in a cozy stall,
Asleep, and waiting for th’ dawn you shall bring.
Still nought to do, if rightly you recall!

You speak of court as such a precious thing.
From where, I ask, does this rationale spring?
I often wonder why we host at night.”
But even so, she put away her wing.

“If nothing else, I could refine my sight
Into the dreams of subjects mine, to smite
Whatever dreams of ill that plague them now,
And pacify until the dawn’s first light.

I’ll start at once, if kindly you allow.”
At hearing this, Celestia plung’d her brow
In thought, and then concluded, “You may fare
Upon this effort, but I ask you vow

That, sister, you would not induce a scare.
The last thing we want are crowds in the square
All crying for your head upon a pike.
I speak this unto you – because I care.”

“So be it,” she concurred. “Such frights I’ll strike;
Whatever woes they have I’ll be the shrike,
And any pleasures I will guide along,
But otherwise I’ll leave their dreams alike.”

Celestia said, “If so, this shan’t go wrong,
Not with your wisdom, nor your power strong.
It should prove worthy of attention yours,
If, granted, this does not last all night long.

You need your sleep as well, besides your chores.
A lack of nightly rest your self abhors –
For what, I ask you Luna, would occur
Should somepony walk through the palace doors?”

But Luna roll’d her eyes and scoft. “O sure,
I shall maintain my duties as it were.
But you fret far too much, my sister dear –
Why so much so, your sight must be a blur.

Your woes are meritless, as is your fear.
Now come to bed. Let sleep bring you some cheer.”
Celestia wearily conceded then.
“May Fortune smile upon you, sister-seeër.”

As Luna saw her sister to her den,
She laid her down beside the fire, and when
Celestia sought some further friendliness.
“N’at all,” said Luna, “’tis already ten

At night. Trust me, you do not need this stress.
I’ll be just fine in my pursuit, unless
It proves unsafe for me or dreamer too –
And yes, whome’er seeks me I shall address.”

“Fair winds,” said sister. “I believe in you.”
These ramblings Luna did find to be true.
Hence, Luna took her place upon the throne –
A princess white, replact with one dark blue.

Expectedly, this time she was alone,
Save for two guards who kept her regal tone.
A minute past, another three sans tide.
Of course she’d be alone – she should have known!

But Luna was not one to conjure snide,
Nor think her sister to her merely lied.
She thought it apt to see to her spell now,
So Luna pull’d a royal guard aside.

“A power great I thus leave in your dow:
To interrupt my focus you shan’t allow.
What I’m about to do needs utmost care –
Thus, keep them out out here! I care not how!”

The guard saluted. With his partner there,
They flankt the door, maintaining their cold stare.
And with a smile so slight did Luna light
Her horn, and forct an opening in th’ air.

Soon Luna did surround herself with quite
A number of æthereal doors. Despite
Their layout, Luna knew her sister’s well.
She lookt to see what dream she had tonight.

Indeed, ’twas pleasant, Luna could quite tell –
And more, she knew she had finisht her spell.
Her sister’s dream was verdant, free to drift;
No threat nor shadow she had had to quell.

She stayed in hiding, watching from the rift.
Celestia, yet, in spotting her was swift.
“O Sister!” called she. “There you are at last!
I knew you’d try abandoning your shift.

I see your spell works wonders, and quite fast
To boot. But pay your mind to time that’s past;
Such wondrous visions you can clearly see
Within a realm that’s æthereal and vast,

But still, take care which dream you spy with glee!
Some ponies might not like it, unlike me.
Now fare thee well, dear Luna, and again,
Neglect not regal duties,” added she.

“I understand,” said Luna. “I’ll maintain
My vigil in the court.” She clos’d the strain
In dream-fabric, and turn’d t’ another one.
Decided she on what was once her bane.

“Crab Apple,” said she. “Let’s see what you’ve spun.”
With gentle care, she made her entry done.
Her host was merely rocking to and fro –
Indeed, she found, this dream was not much fun.

She found herself quite charm’d to add a show,
But knew that she would not enjoy it – so
She wisht her silently well, went away,
And searcht for ’nother whose sight she’d bestow.

“Hm, Newly Rich,” she found. “How much to pay?”
She jokt herself. “But then, I’d have to stay
For him to spot me. That won’t happen here!”
She tore another gap, and made it splay.

Unlike what she expected, it seem’d mere
Laboring on his part – ’twas quite severe,
She found. She thought she’d stop to help him out,
But she knew better than to interfere.

In any case, his mirth she did not doubt,
And thus her help he did remain without.
She then felt tugging on her wing. A call
Told her to quit her magic-dreaming bout.

When she came to, she found she had a sprawl
Across the floor. “Your Highness, what’s this gall?”
Her secretary askt. “Such attitude!
’Tis not becoming of the Crown at all!”

“Apologies,” she said. “That was quite rude –
But then I figur’d not a soul be view’d,
So I chose to spend dreamwalking instead.”
But this did not make her remarks subdued.

“If you kept courtly matters in your head,
Then you’d’ve heard the knocking!” She turn’d red
From shame. “I’d hate to mind affairs for you,
But I can’t see another way, I dread.”

She sigh’d. “Perhaps we can try this anew.
A colt has askt for your heed – at once, too;
He has been barr’d from entry in the room,
So I suggest you let him in. Adieu!”

At Luna’s wordless order, guards gave room.
Said colt walkt in, face heavy from a gloom
So great, e’en Luna felt it from her seat.
“Well met,” she greeted. “Troubl’d, I presume?”

“Indeed,” the colt said. “Father’s ill-replete
With good health. There are rumors on the street
You are able to interfere with dream.
If this be true, I ask, then, that you meet

With him and comfort with your healing-gleam.
We’ve nothing working – not a single cream,
Nor plant nor potion, eases th’ affliction.
I beg, would you enter into his stream?”

“I shall,” said Luna. With diction
So careful, she remov’d the restriction
Betwixt her and the realm of nightly thought.
To him, it must have seem’d as high fiction,

But he still watcht as Luna’s magic wrought
A way into his father’s mind. “This ought
To fix his problem, or at least assuage
his illness and his anguish – but if not,

Take pride that you decided to engage
With night court, which not e’en the eldest mage
Would do.” She winkt at him, and dove inside.
For once, she did encounter quite a rage –

A powerful storm occluded her outside
What dream he had made so that it would hide
From Luna’s tamp’ring – but she did not stop.
She found a seam, and tore it open wide.

Within his mind, she felt the poison-slop
Of Shade’s Corruption seep. She heard it plop
From high on up, then pool beneath her being.
She need resist, lest she would also drop.

But looking past, she found a verdant spring –
She asked, “Is this his way of comforting
Himself?” She had to seek him out in this
Great mess of slime. O what fiasco, this!

She hopt the colt would inform the princess
Of further matters to help, should she miss
Her goal. “Assist me!” cried she to the world.
Guide me through this mess, lest I run amiss!”

Alas, no answer came. The mass then swirl’d
And threaten’d Luna’s life. She then unfurl’d
Her wings, and flapt to keep afloat in here.
Said she, “I shall escape this netherworld!”

But soon her wings were tangl’d. Thus struck fear –
She was afraid that worse events were near,
That she may not escape from the dreamer’s hold.
She call’d again, and caref’lly tried to hear

For answers. Not one came. The slime tenfold
Increast its strength, and suddenly grew cold.
Poor Luna struggl’d ’gainst the stiffen’d tide,
Pushing and pulling all in toils untold,

In ev’ry way she could – O how she tried!
Yet out this mess she could not e’er be pried.
Such trials, Luna saw, she was advis’d
About – Celestia did not jest. She sigh’d.

“O how I wish I were not as surpris’d
As I am now by this mess,” she surmis’d.
“I must escape this fright from in the deep,
Or else I’d find this dream more compromis’d.”

Within this bitter interval of sleep,
She felt the Shade’s Corruption further seep
And poison her own mind. She was afraid
That she would ne’er escape back to her keep.

She shook its influence off her, and made
Her way to th’ seam that started then to fade,
Which would make her escape impossible –
“I must reach for that opening!” she praid.

But all was futile, for his mind was full
Of that dark illness. Long did she battle
Against the darkness. Luna nearly gave
Up when she heard a sound so norm’lly dull:

“Fear not the deep,” she told herself, “be brave,
For soon a pony me would see and save.
For that to happen, I just need to eke – ”
’Twas all she said before she saw a wave

Of vileness tumbling down. She gave a shriek
And tried to swim around, but it would wreak
Disaster. And behind, a drain open’d
From what she thought to be cerebral leak.

Thus, Luna knew if she staid on this trend,
Into this sudden vortex she would wend.
She tried to clamor, but her mouth was fill’d
With shadow-stuff. Was this for her the end?

She called upon her mage reserves, to build
A spell so powerful, it would have kill’d
Her normally. She cast it, watcht it while
It ate away the rot. Despite her skill’d

Craft, Luna found it did nought to the bile.
She was still trapt within the fluid. So vile
Was it that she soon struggl’d e’en to draw
Her breath. She soon realiz’d she had no wile,

No other spell to utter from her maw,
So all she could do was to shut her jaw
And push herself to break its stickiness.
Her plan seem’d perfect, save for just one flaw:

How, then, would she expel the damn’d sickness
From out his mind? She needed to address
His son’s concerns – how could she not do this?
She’d let her promise go unkept – unless

She fixt the malady, she’d be remiss,
A mark of shame befitting no princess –
And in the tempest, Luna saw a glint
Of hope. It was her rift! She could not miss

It now! So Luna took off in a sprint,
At least as best she could within the tint,
To close the space ’twixt her and liberty,
Leaving upon the slime many a print.

She came upon, and lit her horn to see
What could be done. Alas, ’twas not to be –
Despite her efforts, her tricks and her toil,
The rift had shut on Luna already.

She truly was now trapt in here. The oil
Kept pulling on her leg, and i’ th’ turmoil
She lost her grip, and slipt and fell within
The mess, which dragged her into the roil.

What malady had she found here? What sin
Would cause such turbulence? As she did spin
Around the drain, she couldn’t help but think
About the cause of this – where had he been?

And finally she plung’d into the ink –
Into the dark forever she would sink,
A starless night without a single trait,
To th’ point where she could not tell in a blink.

So down and down and down she went, a rate
That e’en she could not slow, but only wait
Until she hit the ground, ife’er that was –
So Luna praid this would not be her fate:

To fall forevermore without a pause,
Or wander lost amid the end – because
As far as she could see, there was no way
To break herself free from its grasping jaws.

There in the fall, Luna could only stay.
Had she another trick to try here? – Nay!
She simply baskt in falling evermore.
She ponder’d whether she would see the day.
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

And once forever past, she fin’ly tore
A barrier to the day – although the roar
Of Shade’s Corruption still came pouring in.
She spat the dark slime out. “I must implore,”

She said, “however did the darkness win?
And what becomes, then, of his only kin?
Regardless still, I must find a way out,
Before my chances should grow ever-thin.”

Before the princess laid a land of drought.
The fact she was not home, she had no doubt.
Dry scorching sand had mixt with the dark slime.
If only, she soon saw, she had a route –

For this was desert not known in her time
(But then, Equestria hardly knew such clime) –
To navigate this, she would need a chart.
And standing ’fore her, looking in his prime,

It was the one whom with her did depart.
“O my son,” said he, “that was none too smart,
Conferring with the princess on my ills –
Apothecary is not quite her art!”

He lookt to her, recoiled with spinal chills,
And said, “Yet you are still here, with your skills
Unparallel’d! Now come, let’s seek the gate,
Unless we should find more unwanted thrills.”

“Does that exist?” askt she. “I must debate,
How shall we search amid a land this great?
Have you known of this place before we came?
And should we not succeed, what be our fate?”

The pony laught. “But then, I should not blame
You. Even if this land has not a name,
We’ll strive to reach beyond its boundaries
And head our own ways – let this be our aim!

I do not know of sandy hills like these,
Nor could a pony speak of these dry seas.
I’ve nary time to waste now, nor do you,
So let us get a start on walking – please!

I’d rather not imagine what to do
If we’re to fail, so waste no time. Pursue
This end, and we shall soon again be free.
Now let us take our leave – and see this through!”

“So be it!” Luna said. “To wit, shall we
Roam this together? I see not a tree
To mark our stay, nor water here to drink.
’Tis easy losing yourself in this spree.”

“A swell idea,” the stallion said. “I think
’Tis time we walkt away from this foul ink,
Would you not say?” He firmly pull’d his limb
Out, and they watcht as it began to shrink

Away, into the sand. And on a whim,
The stallion askt, “Was that what sapt my vim?”
“It must be,” Luna said. “Of ev’ry ill,
The Shade’s Corruption is by far most grim.

I’ve seen its outward symptoms, sapping skill
Until its host’s inevitable kill.
Perhaps it’s why you lack your cutie mark!”
She pointed with her hoof, which sent a chill

Along his back. “How long had I been stark?”
Askt he. “Forsooth, this must be quite the lark!
One simply does not lose his expertise.
I was a baker, having seen my spark

Long back, when I and Father made in peace
Our family’s sweet rolls. We saw such increase
In ponies asking for them, in that hour,
Father saw my apprenticeship did cease.

And when we saw away the final plower,
My mane was knotted with a mass of flour.
Yet still, upon my flank I lookt, and saw
My cutie mark, to show my baking power.

This would explain my newfound green, why raw
My goods would oft come out, why on my straw
I’d not get any sleep. Had I known such,
I would have sold the bakery, go draw

The curtains shut, and once I lose my touch,
My son’d be secure, e’en be it not much.”
And Luna nodded. “That is quite noble,”
Said she, “to keep your son’s life in his clutch.

A lesser pony would not be able
To see how futile ’twould be to battle
The Shade’s Corruption. ’Twould indeed be smart
To help him – though this now amounts to null.

Now come! Onward we’ll go, despite no chart
To guide us.” Luna took a step, to part
Wi’ th’ mess. The baker join’d alongside her,
The two of them trailing the guide of heart.

The sand flew through the air and in their fur;
The wind rose up and made their sight a blur.
So far as they could tell, around this place
Nopony was here, not a soul to stir,

Just endless sand dunes out in open space
And scorching heat on them. “O my Grace,”
The baker said, “perhaps you could pull us
Back to Equestria, and this waste erase.”

Then Luna lit her horn, and with a fuss
Of magic, sought her nightly court – and thus,
Tried a way back. Alas, it did not work.
Luck’ly, the baker, he was not captious:

“Then let’s not waste more effort on this quirk,
For my way will produce a prize.” A smirk,
And he continu’d on, with her atow,
For promist gates somewhere to prowl and lurk.

“And what if we should find another, though?”
Askt Luna. He said, “Be they friend or foe,
They’d be in much the same condition here,
So we would try to help them also – no?”

“Perhaps I sound so miserly, I fear,”
Said she, “but ’til our path to home is clear,
We should concern ourselv’s with only that:
To bring ourselv’s back to Equestria – hear?”

The baker nodded. “If this be our chat,
Then know that I am call’d Honeycomb Splat.
And Luna is your name, Princess your style.
I know this conversation may seem flat,

But it will pass time as we walk the while
And keep our company whilst in exile.
It may seem bleak, but do not give up hope!
For with my sharp sight, and your magic guile,

We’ll soon be back in – oh dear, mind the slope!”
To Luna’s shock, as though they stepped in soap,
The two then fell and tumbl’d in the sand.
Then Luna lookt behind her, shouting “Loap!”

They duct their heads whilst rolling ’cross the land –
Forsooth, thir striding did not go as plann’d.
Yet when they stopt, they both stood up unharm’d,
With little more to them than loosen’d strand

Of hair upon their manes. “How those hills swarm’d!”
He said – and though he did not sound alarm’d,
The princess knew that these such perils may
Prove lethal to them. Yet he still was charm’d,

E’er hopeful for the dawn’s release. “But nay,”
She said, “we mustn’t stay our hooves. This way!”
She pointed with her leg. “Were we to win,
We ought to move on forth without delay.”

“But look!” Honeycomb pointed. “To begin,
Why don’t we ask him where? ’Tis not a sin
To talk to others, as we both well know.”
He shook the grains of sand right off his skin,

And Luna squinted, vying for a show
Of whom Honeycomb spoke of, even though
The haze of heat drapt ’cross here, masking all.
They started towards the figure, e’er so slow.

When they came upon him, Luna stood tall
And askt, “Spare you a moment now at all?
We seek a means of leaving this waste too
So we thought to ask you. What be thy call?”

The being blinked. “Nay, you are not true!
No princess dares to be here, be she blue
Or white, not here in desolate heat!”
He shut his eyes, perhaps to cleanse his view.

He lookt and saw them standing there to meet
Him still. “And yet, you two I ought to greet,”
Conceded he. “The name is Glister. Now,
You may imagine you here may be sweet,

Yet I will have you know that, even how
You came here, you should truly not allow.
I’ve roam’d these lands for longer than I know,
Yet how to leave here I cannot endow.

I think you’d also falter as you go;
In winding this path, be you fast or slow,
You’d find the same sand, nary anything
To break the sameness in this shared throe.

Moreo’er, this desert heat may make a spring
From nought, yet when you come upon the thing,
You’ll find it never was! This is my bane,
E’en moreso than a hook within my wing:

I’ve not seen any glint of hope – no rain,
No shade, nought! Ev’rything it seems to feign!
To be trapt here, without relief in sight –
’Tis quite enough to drive old me insane!”

“Perhaps,” Honeycomb said, “To tell us might
Alleviate your pain, if only slight.
If not the way out, then perhaps a tale –
Of how you came her, and what be your plight.”

And Luna added, “On this dusty trail,
I reckon we could stop to hear you wail.
Now speak, O gryphon, we should have such break;
I should believe our lead would not grow stale

In the interim. Tell, what be thy ache?
Start from the start, whate’er time you should take.
We’ll hear the lot of what you have to say,
Now speak! O Glister – it is for your sake.”

The gryphon clear’d his throat, and sans delay,
He said, “If you insist, so come and stay.
My life has not been one you’d call honest.
For many tales I’ve told, but now, to sway,

This one is true (for it is my own), lest
You not believe me anymore. This test
I’ve put upon myself, but I shall pass.
At last, my story shall not be supprest.

In times of verdance, ’round the trees and grass,
I know another realm – and yet, alas,
I sense I lose your focus. Thus, I plead
For you to listen all the same, sans sass.

I’ve much to cover, so I should not need
To speak anew. I shall proceed at speed
For I can tell you are in urgency –
But first, a tale to tell – a tale of greed.”

“Of greed?” ask Luna. “These I know and see:
In ponies, it may turn to fantasy;
In dragons, it would manifest as size;
In gryphons – well, I haven’t seen it be.

To goad them there, perhaps that’d not be wise –
And yet, forsooth, we’re both bound to realize.”
Honeycomb, looking on, took Luna’s guide
And paid attention. Glister lookt to th’ skies.

“Nay. Greedier than I have liv’d and died,
Though part of it’s greed – that I shall not hide.”
He chuckl’d to himself, then clear’d his throat.
“But nay, my tale is one in which I’ve lied.”

“But soft!” said Luna. “Is that how it’s wrote?
And with such tendency, what should we note?
With what you spake, you sow such seeds of doubt –
Of all you’ve told us, which be right to quote?”

“But all of it,” said Glister. “’Tis about
My time, and ev’ry lie is driven out.
I’ll start wi’ th’ origin of my own life,
And end with meeting you within this drought.

In Gryphondale, we once were caught in strife,
All gryphons balanced on th’ edge o’ th’ knife.
To speak the truth would mean your hasty end –
Thus, lying ’mongst the gryphons was soon rife.

I was no different. Neither was my friend,
Dear Gárhef, whom on a whim did extend
A gilded branch to me. And once I took,
He show’d how easy ’twas to join this trend.

So fast bound we, like pages in a book,
Not once could we be separate.” He shook
His head, to gather up his thoughts. “At least,
I thought so – then she show’d his truer look:

He once told me he hailed from the east,
Wherein, supposedly, the lies had ceast.
But he then tried to get at my clan’s gold –
And thus, my distrust had only e’er increast.

From then on, I refused to be so bold –
I’d ne’er ’gain trust another, nor be told
Which things were true and which were simply not.
But furthermore, to pay my debts of old,

I took a path in something highly sought:
In lending gold to others – so I thought:
With how few bother reading charters well,
What differences can these cretins spot?

And thus, in ways that none could ever tell,
I chang’d the charters, and watch’d whilst I tell
They ow’d more int’rest than they thought at first.
I just collect and watch my hoard to swell.

I could ask more, but modest was my thirst.
I sat and pondered – would I be the worst?
For ev’ry other gryphon’s lied before –
So why would I be th’ one to be accurst?

Before long, I saw, came a sudden war,
And Gryphondale then needed gold – and more.
Well, I was all too happy to provide.
But as they fought, my woes soon came ashore:

One day, an auditor then came inside,
Demanding me to show our pact.” He sigh’d.
“With eyes so sharp, he saw what I had done –
And then, I hadn’t anything to hide!

The war rag’d on, yet I was doom’d to run –
Lest they would kill me for what lies I’ve spun.
Regrettably, my clan e’en banisht me –
It seem’d my troubles only had begun.

When I came to their foe, I made my plea.
For my own life, they said, this was their fee:
I make myself effective ’mongst their kind,
But that was all – and I again was free.

But this, of course, meant I was in a bind.
I could not lie t’ them, but watch as they sign’d
New charters. But I had no more clan debt –
So what use had that now? I would soon find

That they were losing the gryphon war yet –
And soon my kin would win, which made me fret.
Would they find me working wi’ th’ villains here?
And if that be, would they my lies forget?

– Of course not, fools!” He laught. “Soon would appear
They had another reason for a smear.
And soon they would string me up by the neck.
I closed my eyes to dark. I felt no fear.

And when I lookt, I saw many a speck
Of sand. So dry! I could not find a beck
From drink from, yet my thirst I could well bear.
With no concerns more, I began my trek.

In this vast wasteland, other beings were rare.
The ones I met were real – or so I’d swear!
And too were those reprieves that’d burst in view,
Then when I’d come, they’d vanish from my stare.

I knew for sure that more had this issue!
Yet when I askt, confusion would ensue.
They had them too, but not as oft as I.”
He stopt, and faced to ask them, “What say you?”

Honeycomb said, “Well, we have yet to spy
E’en one illusion. That dispute must lie
With you, if only you can see them all.
Perhaps you can ignore them, if you try!

You cannot feel your thirst, if you recall,
So why seek you the water? Overall,
You don’t take well to new climes such as these.
Don’t lie about that! Such we’d eas’ly spall!”

“I must agree,” said Princess Luna. “Please,
You have to realize lying like the breeze
Has not done any benefit. Here and now,
You cannot search this wasteland for the trees:

As you’ve done in life, this land would endow.
For lying, certain help would not allow
Itself to show. You’ll always see these sight,
But never once be sure if they are.” “How?”

Askt Glister. “How does it know of my slight,
And punish me then with poëtic blight?”
“Perhaps,” said Luna, “we’ll ne’er know that fact.”
The gryphon shook his head, and said, “Alright,

If this be the best I’d expect – I lact
The honesty of ponies like you – act
Without my load. I’ll sit here sans care,
And let this land its punishment exact.”

“Come,” Luna said, “sit not so idly there!
Atonement’s free to all – ’tis just and fair!”
“But what be the point,” Glister askt, “when here
Seems now to be my newfound sandy lair?”

“I’ve seen so many ponies reminisce
On times of failure. Even the princess
Would lack perfection,” so spoke the baker.
“You can improve; don’t think yourself amiss!”

“The baker speaks the truth,” she did concur.
“Shall you rise from your ashes of failure?”
“I know not,” he confest. “Were I so wise,
I would know not to follow that teacher:

Indeed, if ev’ry other gryphon lies,
Why ought I? I could have don’d ’nother guise,
And be more honest – yet with my clan’s debt,
Would I in my life have reached my prize?”

“I should think so,” said she – which did beget
A gleam of hope upon his face. “Forget
Your visions and your curse – with decent work,
You’d find you had no reason e’er to fret.

I’ve seen so many other ponies lurk
Behind our backs – with wiles they know to murk
Our waters of faith. Many never change,
But you do seem to want to – as a clerk,

Some fairer deals in gold you should arrange,
And not renege on after. This sounds strange,
But trust that good will shall itself proclaim.
Take what you may, and never once estrange.

We seek to leave this land – be this your aim
As well?” “It is,” said Glister. “Whence you came,
Correct?” But Luna shook her head. “I fear
That way has been closed off – O for shame!”

“Indeed,” Honeycomb said. “It would appear
At first that no way out exists. But we’re
Asearch for much the same. Care you to join?”
The gryphon said, “Nay. My own way I’ll steer –

I’d soon slow you – and for what little coin
I’ th’ end? I’d rather stay in my own quoin.
You think that going back is possible –
Yet should you go back, what be your essoin?”

“It would be quite the tale,” said Luna, “quite full
Of tricks and arts, and feats of magical
Prowess.” “Indeed,” Honeycomb agreed, “’twould
Be something worth to see.” “I think that dull,”

Said Glister. “And yet all th’ same, if you could,
Do call for me. I have, within the wood
About your castle, just outside the stone,
Unfinished business on which to make good.”

“We’ll try to see to that, then.” Her vow shone
Bright on the gryphon. Gloom was all he’d known
For such a long time. Now, in strode a chance
To settle his affairs – not just a loan!

He soon found himself in idyllic trance –
Then shook his head, and lookt into th’ expanse.
Askt he, “Will you make good upon your word?”
She nodded. “Yes! Why would we change our stance?”

She chuckled, and again to the half-bird
Askt, “Will you truly not become our third?”
The gryphon rubb’d his eyes to ascertain –
Yet these two standing faded not, nor blurr’d.

“I won’t,” he said, “but may you find it fain –
Be there high sun or, dare I say it, rain.
Old I shall stay and wait for your success,
So farewell! May your powers never wane!”

Honeycomb bow’d, and Luna did no less,
And with their matters settl’d, did progress
Upon their quest. “I think all’s well,” he said.
“I’ve been virtuous all my life, I guess –

I’ve never known a thought within my head
That forct me on to lie about my bread.
Is ev’ry gryphon quite like he? I hope
Otherwise – such interplay I would dread!

I would imagine you’d them in your scope,
For which I must ask – howe’er do you cope?
If ev’ry night I had to hear them gripe,
I’d have no further choice but merely tope!”

The princess laught. “O soft! You speak of tripe.
And I lie not of this, unlike his type.
I simply listen with a grain of salt,
And interrupt them when the time is ripe –

A lot of what they have to say’s quite walt,
And when I do explain why, they all halt.
They can hear reason, once the facts are laid,
And be I wrong, it’d solely be their fault.

Be war their strife, then I would grant them aid.
Just tell the honest word, and you’d persuade –
If only Glister came to nightly court,
Right now he would not for his lies have paid!

Alas, it is too late for him t’ abort,
I fear – but our despair must not distort
Our vision of the path ahead,” said she.
“We shall press on, regardless of what sort

Of tricks and traps the land has set for we –
Even if Glister makes our two not three,
We’ll keep him in our minds, search for that gate,
And see to th’ end of his calamity.”

“I can’t concur more,” said the baker. “Straight
Ahead, I reckon, there may lie a great
Body of water – Yet the gryphon speaks
’Tis not real – these illusions I so hate!”

“Then why not see it?” askt she. “’Twould be weeks
By my count ’fore we’d see the water’s streaks.
How long have we? I do not know – do you?
We’re roaming like another lost soul ekes.

I even doubt still that your gate rings true.
However thy aim ought I to construe?”
“I do not know.” He shrugg’d. “If literal,
It would imagine there’d be quite the queue –

Forsooth, we’re not the only ones so full
Of boredom and despair. But in my skull,
I have a perfect picture of the place.
I’ll point it out to you – is that a gull?”

He lookt up to the sky, and saw it grace
Across and lead along with a slight trace
To flowing water. “How can that exist?”
Askt Luna. “Why the rapid-flying pace?”

“I should not question it,” he did insist.
“It leads to water. How can we resist?”
“Remember Glister’s words,” she firmly told.
“The bird and water may be just a twist,

A mere illusion meant to sway your hold
Upon your goal.” Even as she did scold,
The gull set down beside the flowing stream.
“But then, what harm would there be to behold?”

Old Luna knew illusions from her dream –
She searcht for flaws, for e’en the slightest seam
In th’ fabric of reality. And yet,
She found they both were true. Her eyes agleam,

She turn’d and told the baker, “Do not fret!
Those thing are real, not what the sands beget.
We’ll drink, and then continue to our out,
And help our Glister – him we shan’t forget.”

The baker heard it trickling like a spout.
He drank it deep – deferment from this drought!
The princess join’d him, lapping by his side.
Honeycomb glanct a shade, and gave a shout.

She jerkt her head up, just in time – she spied
A most familiar gryphon, on a glide
Down to the bank o’ th’ stream. “O Glister! What
Brings you to us again?” the baker cried.

“Whatever you’ve done,” Glister said, “my rut
Has disappear’d – this is most fortunate!
If you can cure the others of their curse,
Then my own patience is indefinite!

Forsooth, here live some others, suff’ring worse
Than I. Though I’ve not heard them e’en once verse,
They should all roam the dunes beyond this source.”
The princess askt him, “And ’fore we disperse,

Can you point us on this supposed course?”
He pointed upflow. “Yonder there, remorse
Presents itself in grisly ways. I plead,
Do not show your fright, lest he see you coarse.

From wrath to sullenness to actual greed,
These creatures have these all and more. Now heed:
Push past their scourges – their poëtic pain –
And your pace none of them can e’er impede!

Now fare you well, you misplact ones! Again,
Don’t hesitate to call me once you gain
A passage back to whence we had once come.”
He took flight, scatt’ring sand in Luna’s mane.

She shook the sand grains loose, and gave a hum.
“Should we go follow that?” askt she. “Well, some
Of them might be more than we both can bear,”
The baker said. “’Tis best we both be numb:

Some may have no control over their care,
Or even think their fates have not been fair.
Well, don’t let that distract you, not at all!
Don’t let a bit of that move e’en a hair

Upon your head.” “I note this, but recall,”
Said she, “that Glister pusht aside his fall
From grace, and told a unembellisht tale.
I’m sure we can trust them to curb their gall.

And if we can’t, we’ll leave and call the fail –
’Tis hard enough to hear the gryphon’s wail,
But even I would know t’ expel the one
Who dares to overstep his regal hail.”

And so they walkt, beneath a burning sun,
Not one rul’d by her sister. When day be done
In this land, they knew not, though it had been
Ashine for quite some time. They had to shun

Its fiery light, lest they go blind therein.
“Shoud we have haste?” askt he. “Time may grow thin
And leave us in the dark.” “But then,” she said,
“The gryphon never said a thing of when

The sun may set. We’ll simply have to shed
Our solar warmth whene’er we can. Ahead
We’ll venture ever on, despite the heat
Depleting our own vigor as we tread.”

“O what a benefit would be a sheet
To drape across my hide!” said he. “How sweet
To have but just a moment more of shade.
’Tis hotter than the summer’s village street!”

“Then speak no more.” With her magic, she made
A pair of cloaks for him and her. They sway’d
As they went, flutt’ring in a gentle breeze,
“O thank you,” said he then, “A way t’ evade

The heat and sand – and with such thorough ease!
I’ll swear my life to you, if this would please
My Princess.” “There’s no need to gratify,”
Replied she. “With so few in way of trees,

We leave ourselv’s exposed to the sky.
You’ll need whatever help you can come by,
As would myself. In all my years of reign,
This place has ne’er enter’d Equestria’s eye.

So baker, tell – what make you of this plain?”
“To speak the truth,” said he, “I must refrain
From answering. I haven’t got a clue –
I could conjure a theory, but again,

I say, I’m just as mystified as you!”
He sigh’d. “If only I correctly knew.
But then I’ve not e’er left my humble place –
A baker born and rais’d both through and through!”

“And yet you’ve lookt Equestria in the face,”
Replied she. “I’m sure you’ve seen ev’ry race
Waltz right in, heard a myriad of tales –
Yet none told of one on this merry chase!”

“’Tis true, I reckon, that between the sales,”
Honeycomb said, “I’d heard of trav’ling trails
Unknown to us before. Of course, I never thought
To ask for more – for many were but fails,

And many end so ill. Some ponies ought
To stay at home with family. Who taught
Such fools, these feathertarr’d clowns, I wonder?
As for their journeys – what have they all sought?”

Honeycomb searcht for signs, deep in ponder,
Whilst Luna lookt beyond them. As it were,
They’ve made no progress – still they both were lost.
To pass the time, one such thing came to her:

“If ever, baker, our paths were fore crost,
How would you so react?” The baker glost,
“If I did see you knocking at my door,
I’d welcome you right in – but at what cost?”

The princess laught. “That’s such creative lore!
To see me as a mare – now tell me more:
If I requested something not as sweet
As you would mostly bake, be it a chore?”

“N’ at all, my liege! ’Twould surely be my treat!”
At last, Honeycomb smil’d – a tricky feat
That Luna fail’d in his dream to induce.
She hop’t this moment here she could repeat,

For poor Honeycomb here suffer’d abuse
From Shade’s Corruption far too long. Its ruse
Had left him turmoil’d, utterly confused –
Yet here, he seem’d to have cut his gloom loose.

His grin fell not long after. He excus’d
Himself, with “Well, I must have gotten us’d
To dreariness. I thank you for your bright
Talk. Forgive if I’m unenthus’d –

As nice as ’tis, this calm does not feel right
To me.” To which she said, “Perhaps it might
Be due to Shade’s Corruption, is it so?
You’d likely need t’ adjust to such calm sight.”

“Perhaps ’tis true,” he said. “Now let us go!”
“So be it,” Luna concur’d. Through the throe,
They wander’d off, awaiting certain hope
Of self-salvation. Whilst progressing slow,

The princess kept her thoughts adrift, to cope
With possible forever loss. She could not mope,
Lest her companion do the same as well,
She fear’d – and nearly tumbl’d on a slope

In her own musing. “Why, you nearly fell,”
Said he. “Now come, my Princess; I can tell
That yonder on th’ horizon lies a lair.
We’ll see if Glister’s right, and if this quell

Your somberness.” Such tendencies were rare
For Luna, yet Honeycomb knew. Her air
Of apprehension blatantly was clear
For him to see it well. It seem’d the pair

Was more familiar than she thought – so near
To her his village must have been, a mere
Stone toss from the stone walls. Had they
Crost paths before? She thought it would appear

Not. Still, if it appear’d that they would stay
Forevermore in dusty wastes, its day
Would not burn quite so hot. She had to see
Such brighter sides; she could not stand the gray.

She focust on the sand that stretcht widely
Across her vision. Barren as ’twas, she
Could see some glimmers of some hardy soul
Wilst they explor’d this shore without a sea.

“What would you find when we arrive? What toll
Would he expound to us? And can his soul
Be saved just like Glister’s?” “Save your speech,”
Said Luna. “We’ll soon reach our shared goal.”

“As you insist, my Princess.” This did teach
Him silence – such a treasure both and each
Should well appreciate. With pure silence,
They wander’d onward, sans her to beseech.
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By long they’ve gone an extensive distance
Beneath a foreign sun, whose brilliance
Pierct all they saw – and yet, its fiery heat
Prov’d nought more than a troublesome nuisance.

“Have we yet reacht our end? I wish to meet
Our next soul.” Luna’s voice was dry, yet sweet.
“Be he a pony or another being,
Whoever he is, it would be most neat

To see another. In lieu of a spring –
Not that we’d need one – one’s company bring
More than one reckons worth its weight in gold.”
“We’ll soon arrive – and if he be a king?”

The baker askt. “When you spake ‘weight in gold,’
Meant you that he would judge by that same mold?
I’ve nary to my name – but you might do;
As princess, wealth’s a quality so old.”

The princess roll’d her eyes. “I have no clue
Whom we shall meet, but I shall assure you,
Should he try something quite so low as that,
He’ll have to answer to me. He’d be through!

In all my years of rule, I’ve not begat
Resentment ’mongst my subjects for such flat
Measurements. All are welcome to come speak
To me or my own sister too thereat.”

“Sounds quite th’ relief,” the baker said. “How bleak
’Twould be if otherwise.” “You son did seek
Me,” Luna said. “He told me of your ill,
And if I could in your dreams take a peek.

Well, I think you would know what that would spill.”
“Indeed,” said he, “’twas quite a nasty chill
When you entered right into my head.
I’ve wonder’d why he’d ask you for that skill,

When you yourself have mention’d what to dread
To th’ end.” The baker, bless him, nearly shed
A tear at his son’s efforts. “Even so,
If you’ve sav’d me from hanging by a thread,

I’ll know he made the proper choice – to go
And seek your wisdom, e’en when th’ sun is low.”
He sigh’d, adjusting his cloak. “Yet alas,
I fear the worst may’d come to pass – but no,

I shan’t abandon hope so soon. To pass
So unprepar’d indeed would be so crass,
Especially from something like my ail
I hope that here we would not e’er trespass

Upon another pony on this trail.”
“Why not?” askt Luna. “As these hills we scale,
I’d be so grateful for the help of more,
E’en if they’re as lost as us in the gale.

You’ve plact your life in mine hooves, as you swore.”
“But I seek also egress – through that door,”
He did insist. “We need keep pacing on.
Perhaps you may not buy into my lore,

But I suggest we tread forth to the dawn,
Before somepony sees that we’re both gone.
Imagine blossoms dancing in the wind –
Perhaps you’d like to happen ’gain upon?”

“Why yes, I dearly would!” The baker grinn’d.
“If, my Princess dear, I have never sinn’d,
Unlike the gryphon we have earlier met,
Back in Equestria we’ll both soon have shinn’d!”

“Ahead of ourselv’s let us never get,”
The princess cautioned. “We’re stuck here yet
Without the stratagem to seek an out.”
The baker said, “As long as you abet,

I see no challenge we can never flout.”
The silence past again, as on their route
They staid and kept a lookout for that one
That Glister mention’d at that riverspout.

To their left, Luna watcht sand as it spun
So calmly in the air, along barren
And dusty hills, to places left unseen –
Another gesture that they weren’t done.

Perhaps, she thought, the baker may have seen
The blessings of my sister’s day. I’ve been
Too busy with the moon and nightly court
To witness light of day, and hills of green

Surrounding us. – And yet, within our fort
We hear the pleas – long days, and nights so short!
Can truly they appreciate my art
Of bringing forth the night? Could they exhort

At all a longer interval of swart?
E’en just an hour! How, then, would they e’er start
Their so beloved day, when their sleep would
That spark which energizes them impart?

Ah, Luna sought once how to show the good
Of that heavenly art, why ponies should
Admire the night, just as they would the day.
Instead, what she got were just those that stood

With heads tipt to the sky at her display,
To seek the patterns, messages at play,
A further meaning to her nightly show,
And offer their interpretations. “Nay!”

She always had told them, “these scrawls are so
Nonsensical, ridiculous, as though
You cannot e’er accept the mix as key –
You seek a pattern i’ th’ sky? Now you know!”

That may, in retrospect, had crusht her plea
To have the ponies understand, to see
The dark as something more than baneful plight –
And thus to this day, ponies nightly flee.

So she resign’d to Princess of the Night,
To play the part of wickedness and fright,
In contrast to Celestia, whom they long
To see – her coming golden morning light.

How Luna sang her soft and dreary song
Of solitude, neglect, and glum. How strong
She was to push aside her sullenness,
To bring forth ev’ry night. – But was she wrong?

This question she could not answer, unless
She somehow found a pony who would bless
The work she did. Of course, no pony was.
Her question’s answer then is but a guess.

“Have you a thing to say? Your lengthy pause
Does worry me,” the baker said, “because
You may soon miss the sight of our next mark.
Dispel your doubts, look past whatever flaws

You see within yourself.” This free remark
Snapt Luna from her reverie. “And hark!”
Honeycomb pointed yonder. “There he lies,
Abask in this land’s blazing sunlight stark.”

Indeed, the princess could see with her eyes,
Another pony laid i’ th’ sand. To th’ skies
His muzzle pointed, perfectly unmov’d
By sand, heat, or wind – or so was his guise.

His fur was white, although it’d be improv’d
With scrubbing, so that dust may be remov’d.
His cutie mark betray’d physician skills –
Be he back home, he’d surely be reprov’d

For his unkemptness. Even as the hills
Of sand clos’d in on him, he saw no ills
In keeping still. “What troubles him?” askt she.
“Does he see no impending doom, no chills

Along his spine?” “Perhaps, if you would see
A fair bit closer, you’d find easily
A number o’ open wounds along his hide –
Be this not clear, he’s wounded terribly!”

Indeed, as Luna’s eyes went fully wide,
The poor physician struggl’d on his side.
Perhaps he knew of the impending sand,
But could not flee it. – Who was she t’ deride?

If Luna had enough of mana, and
If ev’rything she conjur’d went as plann’d,
She’d snatch him up in her magical grip
And transport him to much more stable land.

She lit her horn, and loosed from her lip
A vocal spell to safeguard on his trip.
With that achiev’d, her magic grabbed him
And set him down without a single slip.

And just in time as well – the gap grew slim
Where he before was. It was worth the vim,
She told herself, when the alternative,
Had she left him be – it would be too grim.

“I should have died – so then, why would you give
Your magic to save me? What’s your motive?”
Askt he. “’Tis simple,” Luna then shot back.
“I pulled you out so that you may live.

What be your name? Surely that you would not lack.”
“My name is Bonesaw,” so he said. “Alack,
The pain from the sand entering my veins
Would be unbearable. You should not slack

With what you seek, for I have many pains
That keep me from following you. It strains
Me even now to speak. Now leave me here!
I’ve nothing more to do that lie i’ th’ grains

Of sand.” “But nay!” said Luna. “We both fear
That you would suffer pain much more severe
Without us.” “More,” the baker said, “we seek
A way back home, with Luna as our seeër.

Perhaps you’d know a thing we don’t? ’Twould pique
Our interest if you had a tale to speak.”
And Bonesaw sigh’d. “If you insist, I shall
Begin my story. This one shall sound bleak,

And you will become revolted at all
That I have fully done before my fall.
I shan’t spare any words; it must be told
In full.” He propt himself up, sitting tall

Against the sun behind his back. “Behold,
You know me right as a physician. Old
Had I become, yet I improv’d no more –
Yet my advice is worth more than you’ve gold.”

“Sounds high and mighty,” spake she. “I implore,
What may your words be?” “Gather here – before
I start, have you encounter’d other beings?
Some may impart more for your goal, more lore

Of their own tenures here. Well, this tale brings
But sorrow only – speaks of my failings
As a physician – forsooth, I was not;
O e’en now, I lament my forct endings.”

“Were they your fault?” askt Luna. “Have you wrought
Ill practice on your ward?” He said, “I ought
To speak the truth – indeed, I have done this:
In my pursuit for intellect, I brought

An untold suffering on many. Bliss
Seem’d not to conjure in me. I’m remiss
E’en now, without a way to reconcile.
I’m sure to tell would do nought, my Princess.”

“Tell all the same! We’ll be here all the while
To hear. We’re in no rush to leave this pile
Of sand.” “Well, Luna seems so resolute;
I do suggest you start us off. Sessile

We’ll both be, so your silence would be moot.”
He said, “My cruelty was absolute;
It brings anon great shame divulging such.”
“Perhaps when you tell, we shall then dispute.

Until that may pass, you shall insomuch
Not judge thyself.” The regnant’s words did touch
Him deeply in his psyche. “As you say –
You’ve pried my words from my emphatic clutch.

I shall start from the dawn of my first day:
When I first came into that earthly fray
Call’d life, I thought I’d do some gloried thing
As my own father had ’fore me. – But nay,

My father soon past on, without telling
Of how he did this, in one dreary spring.
In his remembrance, then, I sought a path
T’ apothecaryhood. I had to bring

A great amount of will, to face the wrath
That was apprenticeship. By my own math,
It was a long five years and seven weeks
Before I could start out. Equestria hath

A convoluted way; why, where one seeks
A method or cure newer, first it piques
Th’ attention of my peers, who go and find
If what I have works, or if it needs tweaks.”

“Indeed,” the princess said, “that is the kind
Of work one sees in medicine – and mind
When I say your complaints have no place here –
First comes the life of your ward; be not blind

To whate’er suff’ring is to you made clear –
Hence caution in new medicine. I fear
That you’ve forgotten that one exercise
In your pursuit for a great elixir.

Your father may have sought to realize
A likely similarly-treasur’d prize,
But forget not what I have said before
Of finding magic cures – were he more wise,

He would not have sought such anymore,
E’en if tradition seemed like a chore.”
“And furthermore,” the baker chimed in,
“Suppose he sought that thing in days of yore –

Would it have workt back then? The odds were thin
E’en then. It would be like a thing akin
To spellcraft, something you and I know nought
About at all. – So where would he begin?”

“Beseech me nary longer!” Bonesaw shot.
“I did not once forget what I was taught,
But focust on my patients, ill or well,
By any means at all – and so I thought,

Where most physicians line their bags to swell,
I just desir’d to help – how could I tell?
’Tis simple – I would never try a wile
Where I did not see merit. – And to quell

Whate’er doubts you may have, all was worthwhile
What I have done. Perhaps you’d call it vile,
But in the end, I’ve saved more in life –
So surely that would not grant you a smile?”

Yet these two found themselv’s in ethic strife.
“That may be so,” said Luna, “but the knife
That cuts the rot away can also kill –
As you forsooth would know. Your time was rife

With conflicts such as these, my doubt is real
That you’d make your accomplishments worth nil
If you proceeded with your studies. Why,
Of bloodwork ’lone you’d never have your fill.”

“That may be so – ” And Bonesaw lookt to th’ sky
In wistfulness – “and I will seem so high
And mighty, but I still insist that none
Have ventur’d more on breaking through than I!”

He sigh’d. “But still, you’re here, and not to shun.
I’ll tell you more, but know it won’t be fun:
As rightly you have indicated me,
I’ve been most cruel in my inquisition.

“My first of these incidents came by sea:
A shiphoof sought relief from his scurvy.
Of course, the cure was simply citrus fruit,
But then I thought: why pluck fruit from the tree

When in its stead the citrus-thing would suit?
I then extracted from a lemon its sour loot
And mixed an elixir for the horse
Whose teeth did threaten to fall from the root.

The shiphoof did not like this thing, of course –
Who would? Its taste would leave a princess hoarse!
But he complain’d of bitterness long since –
Said citrus that’s extracted from the source

Was medicine most foul. He had to rinse
For fourteen days and fourteen nights ’fore glints
Of his jaw show’d again. And ne’er again
Would he show his face to my practice. Hints

Of my supposed cruelty and my pain
Soon made the rounds as fast as that arcane
Sense travels. I dispell’d whiche’er I could,
And for a time, that seem’d to stop my bane.

I did not give up, as they claim’d I should,
But rather show them what I did was good.
Another soon sought, this time with a foal
Who claim’d some poison joke – and as it would,

It made his hide and fur as dark as coal.
I askt him where ’twas. He said from a knoll
Along the riverbank, where his friends play’d
Their games – their folly once left their control,

And that poor thing tumbl’d into the shade
Where it grew. And when he emerg’d, he paid
The price at once in sunlight strong – ’tis how
The poison joke conducts its noxious raid.

So when they came to me, I gave a sough –
I askt them, and they said they would allow
Whatever measure I saw fit to save
Him from his own predicament – and how

I went about this was so plain: the knave
Would have t’ endure the cold whilst I would shave
His damag’d fur away. With that aside,
I told him that he would have to be brave

For sev’ral weeks since. After all, I’ve tried
To help howe’er I can. Yet he decried
My methods; thus, I had no further choice
But force him to hold still, whilst from his hide

I took his damag’d coat away. His voice
Pierct high to th’ heavens. – But again, what choice
Had I? No matter what, I had to get
It done. And he of course would not rejoice –

When it was done, his hide was drencht in sweat.
For all the work that I have done, I’d let
My reputation turn afoul once more.
But now, the ponies seem’d not to forget.

For everything I’ve done, it seem’d that poor
Old me would be left on that bitter shore.
Nopony would see me, no matter what
Their ails be. Thus, for medicine, I swore

That no other option would e’er be shut
Away. ‘To fix at all costs;’ no limit
Would be consider’d. Put this into act,
And with luck, it would pull me from my rut.

I mov’d house, and to my relief, they lact
The knowledge of my older pactice. Tact
Would carry me for quite some time, I thought.
And soon enough, my ward would soon be pact.

In medicine, these ponies knew of nought,
Which did allow me to try what I wrought
Within my lab’ratory. As it were,
These foreign patients soon to me had taught

That memory indeed was great power
That little I could do could make me stir
Away my past experiences. So
The years flew by in such a profound blur,

I barely now remember what I’ve t’ show.
And yet, forsooth, these wound of mine all know
Full well what I have done. I cannot tell
If you remorse or have contempt; ergo,

Should you find me at fault, then cast your spell
And banish me from misery – or, well,
Do not, and let my suff’ring do the work.
If not, then please do not let my pain dwell.”

“You truly are to be despis’d. That quirk
Of yours is part of those shadows that lurk
Where hope shin’s not,” said Luna. “Take what you
Have done, what patients you have cur’d, and murk

Them in the filth beneath your hoov’s. In lieu
Of progress, you have caused suff’ring to
Your ward, such untold suffering upon
Your hoov’s. Such venom I have left to spew,

But I’ll leave it unsaid, for it would dawn
Soon on you just what vitriol you’ve drawn
O’er intervening years of medicine.
By skies above, I’m glad your use is gone!”

“As much as I would hate to misalign
Myself, I must agree with Princess Mine,”
The baker said. “If you e’er saw my colt,
I’d keep on you a watchful eye so fine.

I’d ne’er forgive myself once if you molt
His fur, or anything else in his holt.
And now, my Princess, let us go, I plead;
I do not wish to lay eyes on this dolt

Again!” “I understand, but you still need
To calm yourself. Your rage would not grant speed
On this our journey.” The baker took some air,
But this did not ease his storm. “To impede

On our quest – we shan’t spring your pathic snare.”
“So be it,” Bonesaw said. “I shall not spare
Another moment of time. Move along,
And please forget that I was ever there.”

As they went on, the baker said, “How strong
You must have been to hinder your vile-song.
Were I in your place, I’d not hesitate
To up his suffering.” “But that’d be wrong,”

Said she. “I can recall one whom I hate –
So long ago, when our Equestria great
Was founded, I and sister had to see
A frightening physician. How the wait

Was long, and how the both of us did plead
For mercy from this stranger. Yet with glee
He did his work. In hindsight, I should thank
Him. Were it not for him, we would not be

Here, raising sun and moon.” She saw her flank,
An indication of her task and rank
Of bringing forth the night. “If you’d pardon?”
The baker askt her. “If I could be frank?”

And Luna nodded, and he went on, “None
Should ever fear physicians. Whom we’ll shun
Did have a point – they only want to save
Lives. Who are we t’ deride them just for one?

But still, I’m not about to turn to th’ knave
And grant him any mercy. He’s not brave
Enough to stick to our traditions. Why,
I’d be amaz’d if anyone forgave

Him for the things he’s done to them. By sky
Above, I’m through with him.” He gave a sigh.
“But not the others – unlike you, I’ve had
Kind medicine. I shall not vilify

My own physician, e’en if he’s a tad
Forgetful.” He then laugh’d. “You should be glad
Indeed for what he’s practict unto you
And sister. Lest he drove your young selv’s mad – ”

Then Luna burst out laughing at this cue.
She sigh’d, reliev’d. “Perhaps ’tis true –
I ought to overcome my foolish fear.”
The baker nodded. “Take another view:

Those foolish ponies see your night as blear,
Yet even though it penetrat’s all here,
It does not kill them. Thus, these questions stand:
Wherefore do they still gallop ’neath a clear

Night sky? If darkness droops across the land,
Seem they to not remember daylight and
Its golden brightness?” “That does seem the way,”
The princess answer’d. “I think day as bland,

Where ponies take for granted, work or play
The whole time. Of course, ’tis ne’er here to stay,
But soon set down by us in due moment.
The difference ’tween them be – well, night and day!”

They both laught at this quip – such amusement
Was what they needed both, with these frequent
Halts on their winding path in desert heat,
Which both endured on their tiring hunt.

“If,” Luna askt, “the end we’ll truly meet,
If no force cosmic e’er will help us greet
The dawn again, then I can rest my soul
To know that some physicians are a treat –

Not just for ailments, but to play a role
In one’s community as well. A stroll
I’ th’ park for some, but others find it odd
To chatter of nought. – My physician stole

Nought from me, caused nary fraud.
To this extent I am most grateful.” Broad
She scann’d th’ horizon. “I still wonder oft
If never that had come to pass. – But flaw’d

Would be my logic in this case.” “But soft,
My Liege,” the baker said. He briefly doft
His cloak, to shake the sand loose. “’Tis alright
To dwell on these fleeting thoughts.” Luna scoft.

“How could you think of that at all, in spite
Of what I’ve said to you?” she askt. “You slight
Me.” “Soft now, there’s no reason for a brawl,”
The baker told her. “We must not lose sight

Of that sweet thing we both seek – ‘home,’ we call
It. And when we both push up past that wall,
We’ll both be free – free to return to our
Own lives, you in your court, me in my small

And humble bakery.” And at this hour
Did Luna ponder what had made her sour:
Honeycomb, Bonesaw, or another thing.
Regardless of this, they still had to scour

These endless sandy hills for their saving.
This talking goaded her on rememb’ring
Those times Celestia saw that stallion gray.
Not Star-Swirl, nay, for this one had a wing

Upon his back, the other cut away
Some years ago. He never told that day
To them – it likely was, then, for the best,
She thought – regardless, care was his forté,

And care was all he practict without rest.
She never once forgot his humor, lest
She reminisce as well on horrors deep.
He meant well, she knew, yet that did not wrest

Away her old concerns. She let them seep
Into her mind, those memories, to keep
Her on their path. Celestia was not scar’d
Of him as much as she was – she would weep

At first sight, begging him that she be spar’d.
By consequence, her sister always far’d
Before her, yet she never once complain’d.
They ne’er had cause to let their fright be air’d,

However: he had diligence ingrain’d
Into his mind, so never had he strain’d
Himself to get two alicorn foals calm.
And with their full attentiveness sustain’d,

He never either got from them a qualm.
In just a matter of mere minutes, from
His place they both emerg’d, both much improv’d:
If their fur be worn, he had just that balm;

If thorns in their skin, they were soon remov’d;
And for what others ail’d them, he reprov’d
The malady. “Perhaps,” the baker said,
Which did disturb, though Luna was unmov’d,

“You could speak more of what lies in your head.
Your stable silence – that is what I dread
The most of all.” “Pray tell, how is that so?”
She askt, her head atilt. “The life I’ve led

Has shown to me that silence may asow
The seeds of bitter conflict. Tell, what know
You that I don’t?” Yet she did not speak.
“So be it then, but do not let me slow

You. We’ve much ground to cover yet! That peak
O’er yonder does approach. What we both seek
May be right at the top, so let us leave.
E’en if we never find another creek

Like where we met the gryphon. Don’t deceive
Me, much like how he did the same – relieve
Yourself o’ th’ truth.” “Alright, I shall!” she cried.
“I’ve mull’d over your words. You won’t believe

What I’m about t’ impart. Recall that guide
We’ve met.” In pond’ring her next words, she sigh’d.
“In one sense, he reminded me of that
Physician we once had. I bear no pride

Of what I’ll tell of next.” Her voice fell flat.
“Whene’er we went to see him, there he sat
Awaiting to probe us sans end. And yet,
I only have him t’ thank, for he begat

Our future wellness. All our fears he’d let
Run in abandon – then when we were set,
He’d take a gentle manner, to our shock,
And all our nervousness we’d soon forget!”

She laughed alongside him – and on their walk
He added, “Seems we’re not so different – talk
Of foalhood fears like those is commonplace.
You must bear shame in this. I won’t mock –

For I bear something similar.” His face
Droopt down. “In my youth, during my slow pace
Of baking as a foal, there came a smith
Not known for delicacy. I’d efface

And make myself scarce in the kitchen with
Some mindless busywork. He was no kith
Of mine, yet Father forct me to face him
One day – and that turn’d out to be a myth;

That smith was by far pleasant, full of vim
Of someone younger than he to the brim.
He wanted just t’ see who made his sweet bread –
To think that we met only on a whim!”

He laught aloud, and firmly shook his head.
“How I regret not seeing him instead
When he came ’round – a coward was I, yes!
To hid myself with really nought to dread!”

“O soft,” said Luna, “there’s no need – unless
You choose t’ regret, you need not have such stress.
And wherefore do I say such things, you’d ask?
E’en as a princess, I’ve not virtue’s bless.

You’ve heard my surgeon’s tale – I did unmask
It as unfortunate; he had the task
Of looking o’er two rather raucous foals.
I fault him not now, but now merely bask

It in regret. This is part of my tolls
As Princess of the Night. I’ve many roles
Besides, but you’d need not to be concern’d
With any of them. My point is, the holes

In my personal narrative have burn’d
Away within my heart. And if I’ve learn’d
Correctly of your life, then you’ve too shame
Wi’ th’ smith. And yet, I’m sure you have well earn’d

A place among your village – not for fame
Nor wealth, but merely to survive all th’ same.”
“This much is true,” the baker told her, “but
I wonder what impact I left. I blame

Myself for my own cowardice – for what
Else me convinct? I was left in a rut.”
And this time, he induced the silence,
For Luna had nought more t’ add. They did strut

On through the sandy hills, asearch for whence
They came. The gryphon surely had the sense
To know of other creatures in the sand –
They had to seek them out amid the dense

And shifting hills. She notict high o’er th’ land
The sun was starting to get dim. A band
Of dust did start t’ occlude its brilliant sight.
“Is this the norm?” the baker then askt – and

She had no answer to give him. The night,
Perhaps? But that would be convenient. Might
A blinding sandstorm bear down onto them?
This to her sounded likely – for no light

Could pierce through to the ground. O what a gem
This day has been! So far, their stratagem
Has forct them ever onward, as they must
Brave through the foreign elements. “Ahem!”

She had to clear her throat, for choking dust
Had swarm’d around them – and a mighty gust
Of wind kict up. The princess wondered how
They stood it – though the baker never fust

About his situation, but did plow
’Longside her through the sand. She would endow
In due time greater aegis from this trial,
She vow’d – but knew this’d be an empty vow.

“Can even you see in this?” he call’d while
He stumbl’d ’round. His voice came from a mile
To th’ left of her, or so she thought at first.
She saw that this storm would take quite a while

To dissipate. She pull’d her cloak – the worst
Was clearly yet to come. This land had curst
These two and many more with untold pain.
She wonder’d if whate’er damage can be reverst.

To trample through the hills proved a strain,
As both they found their hooves stuck again.
Held fast in sandy wind – ’tshould not be so,
Lest all their ankles get a crippling sprain.

With little power she had left, she let go
A burst of magic – but not just for show:
She found herself amove again, and
So did the baker. “Aye!” he call’d. “Let’s go

Already, Princess Mine!” And through the sand
Once more they went. When carefully she scann’d
What little she could see, she found a way
Both safe and clear. Her uncloakt fur was tann’d,

But she knew not to stop, for what delay
Could e’er stop both of them? They should not stay
Here in the storm, for here lied certain doom –
They could be swept off their hooves, and away!
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This storm had brought about a sandy gloom,
And Luna and the baker felt the rheum
Collect around the edges of their eyes.
They pushed on – this should not be their tomb,

Not so soon anyway. The sand-chokt skies
Above them swirl’d in a chaotic guise,
Yet ever on both stalwart ponies went,
Lest both of them lose their sight of their prize.

Should they give up right here? Had this storm meant
T’ abandon ev’ry shred of hope they’ve spent
To get this far? Since he was also blind,
Honeycomb stumbl’d – though this made a dent

N’ at all, for Luna pull’d him from his bind.
She told the baker, “You should quite well mind
The path in front of us. It shifts sans guess,
So stay close t’ me, lest I leave you behind!”

He took her wiser words to heart, no less
Without delay. Their pique they had t’ repress
As on and on the wretched sandstorm blew.
“Does this happen often?” “I would say yes,

But even I am not so sure. I do
Advise that you keep your mouth shut, lest you
Choke on the swirling sands around us all.”
This point well-founded she would not eschew.

Soon she found she could see through the shawl
Of her cloak, ’twixt the weft and warp. The squall
Would not relent, so useful this would be.
“O Princess Mine,” he said to her, “recall

When you would prance about your realm with glee.
Pray tell, what be your fondest memory?
Forsooth, there must be verdant fields so wide –
’Twas not sandchokt like this calamity!”

The princess thought on what she’d tell with pride –
So many countless stories. She just sigh’d
And skipt his inquiry. ’Twas not the place
For this dull folly. She maintain’d her stride

E’er onward, with the baker in her chase.
Without relenting, sand blew in his face,
Until he gaz’d up, saw what she had done,
And copied her. This left him not a trace

Of sand upon his face, and if the sun
Shone down upon them, they would simply shun
Its blinding glare. To be caught in a storm
Of swirling sand was certainly not fun,

But odd enough, it gave rest from the warm
O’ th’ overbearing sun. The dust did swarm
So unpredictably, and yet compar’d
To walking in the heat – which was the norm –

These winds, however strong they were, prepar’d
Them for th’ heat with their respite. Unimpar’d
Again, Honeycomb started after her again,
And praid that both of their lives would be spar’d

From th’ hazards o’ th’ storm, from whatever pain
It may bring them. Her magic she would train
Upon a problem, but at whate’er cost?
He reason’d, hence, why she would well abstain

From wanton usage. She would not bring frost
Where it could eas’ly melt, far too soon lost.
What wiles had she? This he could only think,
For asking her may only make her crost.

Still, Luna was truly not his sole link
To magic. Some years ago, he met a pink
Mage in his shop. She took a fancy at
The things he offer’d, then gave him a wink.

Alas, he had already marri’d that
Last spring, and he’d not marry her too. “Drat!”
She’d said, and left the shop sans further word.
He thought he’d ne’er see her ’gain– but begat

A longer feud than he at first inferr’d.
Not long after that incident, he heard
That she had moved into town. From there,
Her stops became more frequent. ’Twas awkward

For him at first, but as she pusht, he’d swear
That if she did not buy from him, he’d spare
Attention nary longer. This did not
Deter her in the slightest. Days were rare

When she did not show more than once. He’d spot
Her but outside, just looking in. She’d fought
With his wife, Cherry Wood, on several
Occasions. Soon she would leave, as she ought,

But always, as a rule, return’d, able
To slip in unexpectedly. That lull
Between the days he treasur’d well, for then
That mage would not annoy him out his skull.

It came t’ a head one average day, when
She came inside the shop at half past ten.
But this time, Cherry was awaiting her,
To her surprise. The mage tried t’ leave right then,

But Cherry mov’d in ways that seem’d a blur.
’Fore long, she understood how she did err
In coming back so often, promptly left,
And never once came back. Cherry’s anger

Would soon subside. “My kick does have some heft,”
She later told him. “She would not make theft
Of my dear husband. We two are fast bound,
So who was she to interrupt our weft?”

Honeycomb was just grateful that she found
Some reason in this case. “Well, I was bound
To find out what she seekt. Why idly stand
While she diverted your attention?” ’Round

That time, she had her firstborn filly plann’d,
But that was for another time. The sand
By now had calm’d itself, and sunlight shone
Hard down upon them once again. He scann’d

Th’ horizon, but saw not where they were blown.
“Had we mist anything? The storm’d not shown
Us much.” She lookt around, and nary saw –
As far as she could tell, they were alone,

Abandon’d by such little hope. What flaw
Of character had they t’ end up i’ th’ maw
Of terror? Yet regardless, up she rose,
And gestured him along. “From out your jaw

Your promise flowed of salvation – those
Words you cannot retract.” “Indeed! Who knows
Where it may be? E’en I know not, so let
Us go.” Again he started on the throes,

Determin’d not t’ surrender to the sweat
Of his walk or his work or e’en the debt
He left his only son. And Luna knew
That much as well – if not her, then who’d set

Her moon each night? She hadn’t had a clue,
Which only drove her further to go through
With his otherwise insane plan. Forsooth,
What other hope had she? “I should think you

Have something left to tell, be it the truth
Or yet another tale of distant youth.”
But Luna shook her head. “’Tis neither of
These things. I do not mean to be uncouth,

But don’t you think your stops distract?” Above
Them, she saw sunlight bloct out by a dove
Aflight o’erhead. “’Tis high time, I would say,
T’ return to th’ ones we O so dearly love.

Have you a plan now, or shall we delay
E’en more?” “My Liege, e’en I don’t want to stay
In this drouth,” said he – wistfully, he sigh’d.
“Yet so far, we’ve found nary help at play:

That gryphon, Glister, he well truly tried –
There’re other ponies, there he had not lied;
Yet wicked Bonesaw had nought t’ offer us.”
“Yet that’s no reason t’ stop here,” she replied.

“For other ponies might survive here – thus,
We should not stop with just th’ one we find. Plus,
That thing you seek – nay, we seek – one may keep,
So we should persevere and stay our fuss.”

The baker walkt, awander in thoughts deep
Of how, as soon as he fell right asleep,
He wound up here, with Luna here as well.
The answer might demand a logic-leap,

But soon enough he’d have a sign to tell.
He soon detected quite a distinct smell –
As though he drew near somepony so coarse.
He pointed with his hoof. “Hark! here must dwell

Another one.” “Pray tell, what be the source?”
She askt. “I could sense him from here, of course.
Can you?” Then Luna senst the sharp pungence.
“By skies above, I can. Who is this horse?”

“I’ve nary an idea, but my sense
Of smell has not once fail’d me – whence
It came, there ever can be only more.
We should brace ourselv’s, though in his defense,

The waters we have seen are rare, meant for
Survival here on this oceanless shore.
To bathe is folly, this much we accept.”
“Yet even so,” said Luna, “I abhor

Offensiveness like this. I’ve rarely kept
Th’ attention of those who have never prept
Accordingly – and those that I do hear,
E’er after I have rarely fully slept.”

The baker held his laughter back – for fear
Of her rejection. “Is that what you fear?”
“Forsooth, nay,” Luna said. “I’ve stomacht worse
In my reign.” Then she beckon’d. “We are near

Some answers better, I would think – averse,
Are we?” “Nay, I just ponder how t’ immerse
Myself. Regardless – ” “Yes, of course, indeed.
Let us go trav’ling there. We shall converse

To take our minds off his foul scent – agreed?”
“Quite well.” Against their better sense, they’d heed
The smell to follow it to th’ origin;
No other option was, so this they’d need.

The further ’long they went, the urge to shun
Grew ever stronger. “I would imagine
You’ve met some ponies quite as foul as this,”
She said. “Of course, the princess of the sun

Has had her share as well. It gives bliss
That, were she t’ reject, she’d not be remiss
At all. If I were half as demanding,
I’d see far fewer. I’d soon greatly miss

The company that the ponies would bring 
With their own grievances.” She held a wing
Affront her face, which did nought t’ stop the draft.
“Hazard you any guess as to this thing?”

“I haven’t even one.” The baker laught
Aloud. “Although, perhaps I’m far too daft
To think of something by myself about
The possibilities.” With comfort aft,

They knew there was no going back, no doubt
As to their fates. As they drew close, her snout
Began to hinder her advancement. “O
For clear night skies! Is this the correct route?”

“I am afraid it is – look where that glow
Glints right at us. That must be where we go!”
Indeed, where his hoof pointed, Luna saw
A twinkle of some shiny thing to show.

’Twas still too far away for her to draw
A picture in her mind – and yet this flaw
Did not dissuade them from ending this part
Of their trip. Whether this be an outlaw

Or somepony more honorable or smart,
She dearly hopt they freely would impart
Some information new. Would her guide be
Well-guided for once? Would they get a chart

Of this unknown land? Could they be set free
Even? They just would have to go and see.
Each hoofstep brought to them a further pain
Unto their noses. “It seems folly t’ me,”

She told the baker. “This foul scent does strain
My patience.” She then cought. “In all my reign,
I’ve never had displeasure quite like now.
Not e’en the stables of guards, where they train,

Smell’d just as bad as this. – And you have vow’d
To follow this one?” “How can you allow
An unchect lead like this, O Princess Mine?
Forsooth, you need to tolerate a slough.”

She knew she had to follow this foul sign
Eventually. She hopt she’d find no swine
At least, so she bore the aroma well
As she and her companion went to th’ shine.

They weren’t far now, for that pungent smell
Was at its apex, she could clearly tell.
Her eyes water’d, yet she forced her sight
To look who here in misery would dwell.

At last, they found a single, lonely knight
Whose armor seemed to be fused tight
Upon his body, leaving his true look
Unknown to either of them. Yet despite

The earlier struggle, here they were not shook,
For here there was nought to shake them. She took
The first step towards him, and spoke, “Please excuse,
Sir Knight. We seek salvation.” Spoke the rook,

“‘Salvation’? Bah!” He spat. “How dare y’ accuse!
Why don’t you use your magic? I refuse
To help the both of you, for clearly you
Can manage well your eventual rescues!”

Both Luna and the baker balkt in rue –
Was this a warrior, or a pauper? Few
Had half the nerve as this one pony did –
And even then, there he sat and did stew,

As though he wisht he’d presently be rid
Of them, for bothering his peace. Amid
The stillness and the silence, the baker
Said, “We still need your help – this much we bid:

You might well see, under our cloaks, our fur
Is chokt with sand from that storm. Not to spur
You on, but we are trying to leave here –
Pray, could you manage that much for us, Sir?”

“And why ought I?” The knight’s words did strike fear
I’ th’ baker’s heart. He stood, which let him leer
O’er him. “I’ll tell you what you need to know:
I cannot, must not, help you – is that clear?”

Then Luna interven’d. “How dare you! So
You see yourself a knight – then pray tell, show
Your chivalry t’ me, Princess of the Moon –
That much you can do.” This did not work, though:

“The Princess of the Moon – it’d be too soon
If ever I saw her again. This noon
Eternal must be your enduring bane.
Your sister, of course, sings superior tune – ”

“Sir Knight!” said she. “You must have gone insane!
In all my years of my and sister’s reign,
We’ve never been so highly slander’d! Nay,
I should not hear those foul words e’er again!”

He said, “You must be jealous of the day –
How she receiv’s your praise. Don’t you think they
Prefer the brightness and the warmth of light?
My perfect judgment you can never sway –

How many would show up amid your night,
Your precious night? They fear that it would smite
Them as they go i’ th’ dark, so they avoid
The dark at ev’ry cost – so speaks this knight!”

And as he spoke, his scent flared, which annoy’d
The others both. No wonder he’s devoid
Of company, she thought, with this routine.
The knight, of course, seem’d himself less than joy’d.

“You now know of my curse. I’m never clean –
You eas’ly smell’d me ’fore you saw my sheen.
This armor’s seal’d me tight; I cannot leave
To bathe it out of my fur. In between

The edges’s something you’d not want to weave.”
“The rust?” Honeycomb askt. “I would believe
That – rusted armor’s most inflexible.
We’d free you, this we’d easily achieve,

But first, what be th’ extent of your rot? Full
Of it, I would imagine, up t’ your skull.
And second, if you’d curb your humors poor,
We’d find your smell and temper toler’ble.”

“I shall try this,” the knight said. “Furthermore,”
Said Luna, “Once we your freedom restore,
You’re not to go back on your word at all,
Lest we make your hardship now but a sore.”

“Agreed as well,” said he. “I shall not stall:
What do you wish to know? Do make the call,
And I’ll tell ev’rything I know on it.”
“To start,” the baker said, “when we did fall

Into this land, we did not seek to quit –
Instead, we sought a way to make a slit
Between this world and th’ other, whence we came.
Pray tell, and pray that you shall not emit,

Where do we need to go? What is our aim?
Is even there a place that you can name?
E’en just a rumor is quite well enough!”
“Prying’s your nature,” said the knight. “A shame,

Then, that I’ve nary to offer you. Bluff
All you’d like, but my answer’s far too rough
For you to find use. That is all I’ve got
To tell you – now, shall you remove my scuff?”

“Perhaps we may,” said Luna, “but you ought
To stay here anyway. E’en though it’s hot,
I’m sure you’ve got a tale for us – how had
You come to this place? You’ve certainly fought

Hard and long, as your armor shows. Be glad
You fought for th’ princesses.” “You must be mad!
That’s not who I am. I’ve rusted from th’ lack
Of proper combat. Look at how I’m clad,

If you do not remember. On my back
You’d find a widening and rusted crack
Along my spine. You see it there, don’t you?
It leaves me open to a rear attack.”

“I can see,” Luna said, “but very few
In enemies are found here.” “If that’s true,”
Said he, “forsooth, then all the reason more
To pull my plates away, so you can view

My truer self.” “If you shall not go t’ war,
Then let us help you out of prison your.”
That said, her magic hover’d o’er the plate
That cover’d his back. With a grunt, she tore

It off – and soon regretted; th’ smell she’d hate
Came wafting through so strongly. “I must wait
A moment, kindly if you please,” she said.
Honeycomb buried his nose i’ th’ sand t’ wait.

She lookt upon his skin, which was rubb’d red
From prolong’d use of armor. “Go ahead,”
The knight commanded, “please, continue on –
I promise, my fetor will improve instead

Of worsen.” “If you say so.” This would spawn
E’en more offensiveness from him – forgone
Were untold days or even years. It staid
And lingered until his plates were gone.

And when at last the knight to them displaid
His naked form, they noted dully-graid
Fur, and a cutie mark of plates of steel.
Remarkably, nought on him had decaid.

He stood, and to them further did reveal
The ravages of idleness were real.
His muscles, long the pride o’ a Royal Guard,
Had wither’d o’er time, yet he still could feel

Relief at last. “I’ve promist you a shard
Of mine own life. Forsooth, I am no bard,
But gather here, and I shall tell of my
Time as a royal knight. This tale is marr’d

With anger and frustration. By the sky,
’Twas not all from a battle, but from my
Own faults. I never could tolerate where
My stallions commonly stood idly by,

With mindless chatter filling time. I’d stare
Ahead with fortitude, but they’d not care
At all about their charges. More than once,
I’d have t’ remind them how they all would fare

If they should fail.” “But why no abeyance?”
Askt Luna. “Surely you could stand th’ absence
O’ austerity, e’en but for a moment.
’Tis not all honor and duty. Patience!

My guards are rotated, but not for stunt,
But to ensure they’re not plact in the front
For far too long. Fatigue is something rough –
I’m sorry, Knight, but I have to be blunt:

You drove yourself too hard. – And don’t you bluff;
I can tell it by th’ imprints in your fluff
You’ve been on duty for such a long shift –
For anypony, that would be too tough.”

Said he, “I’ve been left here but just to drift
Sans aim for unknown time. I’m not as swift
As I once was, that I will say as much,
But please, I beg, spare me your pittance-gift.

If anything, I’ve been too soft – as such,
Whatever punishment you insomuch
Believe I do deserve, I shall accept.
If I shall never know another’s touch,

Then so be it; if promises unkept,
Then that as well, and if I soon be swept
Away i’ th’ wind, I bear that on my own.”
“That is quite noble,” Luna said, “except:

The things you’re proud of, that is what y’ atone –
Your discipline is yours and yours alone;
Nopony else is quite as strict as you.
Can you not once enjoy the life that’s sewn

Around you?” The knight said, “I never knew
At all of respite, from what I well view
As dangerous. That’s why I never rest
At all – you never know if you’d be through

Before your time.” He clear’d his throat. “At best,
A threat is not worth the time I have prest,
And then at worst, it only prov’s me right –
Which never happen’d, as you might have guest.”

“You’ve done just as well,” Luna told the knight.
“But my companion here, Honeycomb, might
Still want to hear your tale, as you have vow’d.”
The baker said, “Your story might be quite

An epic, or a crumb. You need not shroud
A detail from us, we are not a crowd.
Whatever things you’ve done before you came
To this land, you just need to speak aloud.”

The knight then sigh’d. “If you insist. My name
Is Vambrace; you might not know, for no fame
Has ever crost my path, and ev’rything
I’ve told that I’ve achiv’d you may well shame.

This goes back to when I first was aiming
For the position as a guard for th’ King
Of Crystal. Soon I’d get precisely that,
But soon I’d also run into that thing

We both call sloth. The Crystals had grown fat
With complacence. I had to fix this, stat;
The best way t’ do this, when their greatest threat
In all their hist’ry was a simple rat,

I found, was to discipline the lot – get
Them to stand at attention, never let
A day go by without a routine check
For anything suspicious that I’d bet

Would spell the end o’ th’ Crystals, not a speck
Unseen. And still they think they have a peck
Of time for them to rest. I strove to drive
This from their minds, with sudden drills on deck

Or even further time i’ th’ brig, to strive
Them to try better. They felt I’d deprive
Them of a thing they’d cherish most, but nay,
I wanted them t’ ensure they’d be alive

To defend if a danger came one day.
And yet with all my safeguards, they would say
I’ve gone o’erboard. How could I convince them
If they themselves are indeed okay

Wi’ th’ current state o’ affairs? This sloth would stem
One day, as I had fear’d, into a phlegm
Of shade that spread throughout the crystal-land.
We had no further choice, but to condemn

Those places lost t’ infection. We would stand
On th’ street, awatch for further danger, and
Sans warning, get the order to retreat.
In hindsight, ’twas not like these hills of sand,

Bakt in perpetual sunlight and high heat.
But to return, the illness soon did meet
The King and his kin. As before, I stood
And stoppt the pony whom I thought replete

With ill. As strict and alert as I could
Have been, he somehow too fell ill. I should
Have seen it coming, yet there I have fail’d.
I had no choice but to leave him for good.

O how remorseful I was since! I’ve bail’d
On my charge. My subordinates had pal’d
When they saw how distraught I was, for fear
Of what I’d do to them – which soon prevail’d

Into despair throughout the guard. Their cheer,
Which I had thoroughly despis’d so clear,
Was superseded by an ambient gloom.
I would be glad, but somehow ’twas not near

The satisfaction I’d expect. No room
For petty things? That was what I’d assume.
Regardless, I an’ th’ other Guards would take
Responsibility for our king’s doom.

It was not easy to do this – forsake
Him in his time of need, but we were spake
T’ avoid the ill ourselv’s. The others well
Understood what we had t’ do. A break

At that time’d spell disaster. Despair fell
Upon us; soon that sickness had befell
Me. When that happen’d, I’d but one option:
I had to leave my guard post, and go dwell

Among the ills.” She thought that he was done,
Yet he continued. “That place was barren
But for the dirt and dust and other stuff –
And yes, those throngs of ponies ill were fun.

To live as royal knight itself was tough,
But that compared not to just how rough
The ponies were to one another there.
But soon, the fates thought I had had enough,

And one day, here I woke, and on my hair
Was shining armor steel, which was my lair
For all this time. And yes, I could still move,
But that condition would not last fore’er:

The paint did not do well wi’ th’ sand. It’d prove
In fact to strip away it, to remove
Whatever indication I once had
As Knight of Crystal.  Thus, it would behoove

Me to remove it when I could. Too bad
For me, for it held on fast. I was clad
In useless armor, difficult t’ extract –
Why, I’m surpris’d it’s not driven me mad!

I’ve been like that forever since. In fact,
You’ve been the first I’ve met. Comp’ny I’ve lact
For countless days, especially since this day
Does never end. This pointless artifact

You graciously remov’d from my – ” “Okay,
I think we’re all caught up,” said Luna. “Say,
Do you know how much grief you have caused
In your time as a guard? All work, no play,

It’s nary wonder why they had no shred
Of pity for you. Get this through your head:
Know when to draw arms, and when t’ stay your bite.
So many times I’ve seen my guards wind dead

Because they did not heed my words. You might
Be shoct, but you were far too harsh, Sir Knight!
I’d be asham’d, most deeply so asham’d,
Were you to serve i’ th’ castle guard o’ th’ night.

You ought to thank the stars that you’re not fam’d
Much further than the Crystal-Lands. You’re blam’d
For ev’rything wrong in that time of ill –
And rightly so; there was a phlegm, you claim’d,

And in my wisdom, I know the cause is real:
Exhaustion! You workt those guards in a drill
That never ended once – how dare you think
Yourself a Crystal Knight! You have the skill

To take on any foe, but not to drink
The same ’neath th’ table – know which is the wink
Of that desire, or something more malign.
To wit, that now explains why you would stink!”

“I would not trust you around my shop’s sign,”
The baker interjected. “You’d be fine
If you as Royal Knight chose to step down.
By skies above, as sure as sun does shine,

You’d never once be welcome in my town.
Your martial tendencies have caus’d the frown
Upon their faces – and ours too, I’ll add.
Your mindset has made you to us renown

A sinister one, and you think we’re glad
You made those changes in your ranks? – ’tis bad!
And you were spirited here, as it were,
Awander lonely as a lost nomad!

Come, Princess Mine, we’ll leave him here t’ suffer
His consequences for the remainder
Of time. What do you say?” “I must agree,”
Said Luna. “Your deeds caus’d us such anger

That we cannot just set you bad knight free.”
With nary word, poor Vambrace could well see
Them trot away in anger. What defeat!
Why, he could eas’ly have made these two three,

But nay, he had t’ open his mouth, replete
With sorrow-causing muck. If he could eat,
An endless feast of crow awaited him
In choking sand and armor-warping heat.

On th’ other hoof, they were full up to th’ brim
With this land’s nonsense. Their patience grew slim
For their salvation, yet they again were foil’d.
Their own luck, as such, was now e’en more grim.

To save that knight – he may as well have boil’d
Away inside his armor, while they toil’d
Without his help. They were willing t’ assist;
It would have gone well, if he had not roil’d

Them both. As they went, they both did resist
A broken quiet. Sans talk, they did insist
That Vambrace ought to be left in the dust,
Seek out another, and perhaps enlist

That pony in their journey, if they must,
But this would take no small amount of trust.
So far, between three beings, they have found nought
In th’ way of help on their quest – which was just

As well; they journey heav’ly had been fraught
With such misfortune. Are we, Luna thought,
In the wrong place? Is ev’rypony so?
These questions may have answers she would not

Like to hear, so she dar’d not ask to know.
And as their journey started to grow slow,
She lookt up to see but a single cloud
Adrift i’ th’ wind. She was charm’d to follow,

But kept by her companion’s side. Endow’d
By his guide, she saw hope – he must be proud
At least to have hope in desolation,
And thus he’d lead her back home, as he vow’d.

Unlike before, no storm had bloct the sun
From beating down on them. They could well shun
Its light and heat with their cloaks, which cover’d
Them head to hoof. Their trip had just begun,

So Luna could tell, and they both were spurr’d
By their salvation. Be it worth the word
They’ve had with strangers ’long the winding way?
Despite who they found, they still lact a third

To walk with them. Just for respite she’d pray
From blazing heat and the forever day;
She wonder’d how the baker could stand this –
He sounded not the least bit fatigued. Nay,

In fact, he was more chipper than e’er; bliss
Had taken stranglehold of him. She’d miss
Those times back in Equestria, where she would
Walk freely in the Everfree. A hiss,

And she felt a much cooler breeze. So good
It felt upon her parched skin, it should
Have given pause. Yet verily she went
Along without a stop. She eas’ly could

Ask him if he needed pause for him t’ vent.
He never raised a concern – which meant
He either seal’d his vitriol in tight,
Or truly he had nought – he was content.

Honeycomb was no Princess of the Night,
Unlike her, Luna. Even so, despite
His meager status, he show’d fortitude
That even she thought was borne from a might

Unknown to her and most before. She view’d
The serendipitous trait as not rude,
But firm demeanor, unlike Vambrace’s.
She realiz’d this would highly be valued.
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mayhaps,” said Luna, “in other cases,
That vileness serv’s him well in such places.”
They shar’d the laugh resulting. “I’d not spare
Such mercy on the wicked.” Two paces,

His swift and Luna’s gliding, they would dare
To venture on to deeper wastes. A snare
Would capture soon his eyes – and all too true,
He had to stop at once, and look to there.

She thought her steadfast guide could see the view
Of fantasy the warmth could cause – yet drew
Her eyes to where he pointed, saw the truth
From lies – those namely shimmers, ones she knew,

But he did not. Then Luna said, “Forsooth,
I’ve not seen a thing like that since my youth.
I say we seek it out – it is that tree
We ust to play around. You’re quite the sleuth!”

“To find some older memories, I see?”
He ask his liege. “I shall join you with glee!
I should look forward t’ hearing even more.”
“How grand ’twould be,” said she, “to sip that tea

We would once have in our youth, long before
We were ordain’d with destinies of yore.
O how I long t’ relive those memories –
Perhaps you’d like to join me, I implore,

Relive the same with me.” A gentle breeze
Brusht past them. “I indeed would like to – these
Thoughts you so treasure fondly must be good
If all at once you recognize with ease

Where they were made.” “Let us go, as we should,
And well remember them together.” “Could
Such thing be possible?” “I’ th’ land of dream,
This and more can be done. I’ve understood

Such nonsense folly in that random stream
Call’d consciousness. To you, ’twould eas’ly seem
Mere chaos pull’d from nought, but dreams can tell
Of inner tales that one wi’ th’ spell could gleam,

Although, of all the things I’ve seen, this well
Of drouth is by far th’ strangest thing. My spell
Should not have fail’d me, yet in that moment
It did, to my surprise, and then we fell

Into this pit of memory.” “We’ll hunt
A way home in due time. The ailment
Of Shade’s Corruption can be cured, yes?”
Then Luna ponder’d th’ answer she’d present –

And when she had, she simply said, “Unless
A miracle occurs, I can’t express
Such hope for that to happen.” “So be it,”
Said he, “for if not you, then none can bless

Me for my life.” She was glad that her hit
T’ encouragement did not at all admit
Concession. “But let’s get us home now,” said
He boldly. “That enough would benefit

Me well. To see your moon arise and tread
Across the sky would well relieve my head
Of Shade’s Corruption.” Heartily they laught.
“We spake enough, so let us go ahead

And see to your fond memories, and craft
Some newer ones,” Honeycomb said – and aft
These words, they started pacing onward to
Their newfound destiny. A sandy draft

Blew past their faces, pointing them on through
The sand. Their fortitude renew’d anew,
They merrily went cantering i’ th’ dust
Until they could make out a crimson hue

Upon th’ horizon beyond them – and just
As they saw it, as in this land they must,
They came across a rather lofty drop.
Unlike before, when they would never trust

Th’ stability, they chose instead to bop
Off th’ edge, and slide without a sudden stop.
What fun they had, to speed on down the hill!
E’en if they were not keen to climb to th’ top,

They would agree, ’twas worth th’ impromptu thrill.
And once they reacht the base, the air was still
Once more – the lookt ahead of them, and saw
They’d further much to go, and sweat to spill

E’en more before they’d reach that place of awe
For Luna. As was this land’s cursed law,
It seem’d much further than when they began.
A heavy groan erupted from her maw.

“We’ve come much further ranges in our plan,”
The baker told her. “This two-pony clan
Can tolerate a few more hills like that.
Could you set your gall aside?” “Yes, I can,”

She would admit. “And whilst we idly chat,
Could you speak more of how you both begat
Your powers of the sky?” “Perhaps once we
Arrive, I may,” said Luna. She slipt. “Drat!”

The baker helped her, to pull her free
Fro’ th’ sand’s grasp on her hoof. And then, once she
Was firmly standing, she again thankt him,
And moved on to cherisht memory.

It seemed that the distance was too slim
For them at first glance. Carefully they’d skim
The surface of the sev’ral hills between
Them and their destination. A blue limb

Found a stone crag, with such a brilliant sheen
That Luna found herself blind. She was keen,
However, to keep moving. Up on high,
She suddenly found their prize – at that scene,

She made one final effort to come by
That special place within her mind. A sly
Honeycomb saw her struggle, stopt to give
A heave, and watcht her see the tree and sigh.

“We shall now find respite here, and relive
Such fondness of my deepest mind. Forgive
Indulgence mine, would you?” “My Liege, of course,”
He said. “I’m sure this place does prove motive

So potent for you.” Then, from unknown source,
A wind blew through the tree. The darker horse
Took in the scent resulting, which gave bliss
And cause t’ relax beneath it. Without force,

This tree did beckon with the things she’d miss –
A tea so sweet and perfect, ’twas a kiss
From Mother, just about. – She sigh’d relief,
Then gestured him t’ approach and not dismiss.

“’Tis nice,” the baker said. “However brief
It may last, ’twill still be beyond belief.
I’ll never find its equal – what say you?”
“I must agree,” said Luna. “Verdant leaf

Is hard to find, but somehow this land knew
My fonder times of youth. These things are few
And far between; thus, I cherish the time
When we had not the obligations too.”

Her tree had blossom’d, as though in its prime
And just awaken’d from the winter’s rime,
And scented flower-petals fell to th’ ground.
A tranquil scene indeed, a paradigm

Of peacefulness, as Luna once had found.
“So Princess Mine, I’m sure your mind’s abound
With fables of your ancient fillyhood,
Of times forlorn before you two were crown’d.

I’d like to hear some of those, if you would.”
And Luna nodded. “Here, beneath the wood,
We once saw th’ stars come out one cloudless night.
And dazzl’d our young sight. We understood

This was their nightly show – and what a sight
They’d show to us! We pointed out the slight
Light-pricks, to seek the patterns in the group,
And morrow come, to see if we were right,

We’d ask the others, be they royal troop
Or common peasant, yet in one fell swoop
They’d break our images, tell us they’re wrong,
But our imagination we’d recoup

By nightfall. Of course, by day we’d hear the song
Of birds o’erhead, and back where we belong
We would return, to stay and idly speak
And play within its branches all day long.

On warmer days, there ran a shallow creek – ”
She pointed out its place – “where we would wreak
Some harmless havoc on ourselv’s. It’d cool
Our fur, and by the end o’ th’ day, we’d reek

Of river scum.” The baker laught – “A fool
You once were! – erm, My Liege.” “O sod that rule,”
Said she. “Your words ring true in any case –
Besides, we hadn’t any other pool

To swim in – we had yet to be the grace
To raise the sun and moon over our place.
At times I wonder – if we’d never were
The ponies you depend on to replace

Your older unicorn troupe.” “You and her,
You’re indispensable. No one could stir
The sky quite like you could – as goes the day,
So does the night – wait, what’s this on my fur?”

He lookt up, shoct upon his hoov’s. “Away!”
He cried, and gallopt off. Without delay,
She follow’d him behind – then glanced back,
And saw her fillyhood tree would not stay

Upright intact forever – it burn’d black
With flames burning hot. With a total lack
Of water, they had t’ cut their losses so.
“What was this?” askt he once they got far back.

“Was it an ambush, was it all a show
To set a trap, or will we never know?”
“Regardless,” Luna, chokt with tears of grief,
Told him, “we ought t’ ignore this newfound throe – ”

“I say nay,” he announct. “A stopping brief
Is warranted.” And fro’ th’ sky, a black leaf
Came tumbling down, in front of them, t’ remind
Her further. She was in full disbelief –

How could a memory that they would find
Betray her, just like that? ’Twas now behind
Her, ne’er t’ enjoy at any rate again,
She would remind herself – she’d not be blind

T’ reality. O, what tremendous pain
And sorrow had she! Her etheral mane
Went slack and hung to the side of her head,
Sans vim, for reasons noöne can explain.

“Perhaps that’s simply just it,” Luna said.
“’Twas just distraction from the road ahead –
That tree exists no longer, I accept
As much. – Yet why do I still feel a shred

Of sadness in my heart?” “Perhaps you’ve kept
That place in mind for so long, it had crept
Out into th’ land, and set itself up there
To give respite.” “That would be true – except

We don’t know if this land can see the glare
Of our thoughts in our minds.” “And yet, I swear
There’s more to this place than would meet the eye.”
He shook his head. “Shall we go? If we fare

Up that hill yonder, we could see the sky
Illuminate the path ahead. We’d try
The next lead we see. I’m sure it would go
Much better than before.” She gave a sigh,

Relenting to his offer. – Who would know
What laid o’er th’ hilltop, what the light would show
Them when they reacht the top? And as th’ ascent
Near’d its end, sand appeared to be like snow,

What with the brightness of the sun. They went
Down th’ hill, in jolly fashion, which had sent
Her flying through th’ air. When she hit the ground,
She lookt and found, by her own assessment,

A crystal fragment. “Look what I have found!”
She call’d to him – and once he came around,
He also saw it, glitt’ring in the light.
“I’ve never seen such thing before – astound

Me more, I see?” “I very well just might,”
Said Luna. “Keep its image in your sight –
I do suspect there may be others like
This, forming trail that, though ever slight,

Can lead us to another ponylike
Being.” “Shall it be worth the resulting hike?”
“Indeed so. Let us not waste our time more,
And search out missing pieces all alike.”

The baker sigh’d. “Lovely, another chore,”
But all the same kept nose to ground, t’ implore
Their whereabouts. He spotted one too soon,
And sev’ral more besides. His hopes would soar

As she too saw. Seeing where they were strewn,
The baker and the Princess of the Moon
With care did start along its path so faint.
The trail did end at yet another dune –

And Luna could well see a hoof, apaint
With black, although o’er years it would grow quaint
As sand would ravage it. She grabb’d it firm,
And pull’d it true. This would elicit plaint

Fro’ th’ rest o’ th’ pony. Luna would confirm
Her thoughts that this indeed was an infirm –
A crystal-pony. These she rarely met,
For seldom would they leave for any term

Their homeland in the north. “Now will you let
Me go?” She would do so, but then the sweat
On her hoof made her slip and tumble down.
She stood up. “Thank you – I am in your debt.”

Her gratitude soon turn’d into a frown
Once she saw Princess Luna’s royal crown.
“I never realiz’d I was in the care
Of someone so important, so renown,

As th’ Princess of the Moon.” The lunar mare
Shook her head. “We, forsooth, were not aware
Of your stay here. Your crystal blends right in
Wi’ th’ sand. We only spotted you here, where

A trail of crystal shards led us.” “I’ve been
Unwhole for quite some time – my fragile skin
Had given way to the wind. Rather soon,
Some pieces of me fell away, akin

To broken glass. I had to leave them strewn
Across the sand, for I was not immune
To th’ effects of repairing myself. So
I had to settle here, beneath the noon

That never seems to end. I thought I’d know
Just solitude forever, but O no,
You came and found me buried here. – But why?”
“Because,” said Luna calmly, “even though

You see yourself as somepony awry,
We think you’d make a wonderful ally.
We seek an exit from this dreary pit –
If you would join us, we can better try

As three instead of two. The benefit
Of half a dozen eyes should us permit
To find our goal – so shall you join us now?”
“An offer good,” spake she. “I should not quit

Your words now, not when you have sav’d me. How
Shall we pursue it?” “I you would allow
Me to confess, we’ve wander’d lost this long.”
“Still, this does not invalidate my vow;

I’ll wander with you, as a tagalong,
’Til we return back home – where we belong!”
“Your spirit’s reassuring, but take note:
The beings we’ve met – you would have to be strong

T’ resist their malice – O the things we’d quote.
You would not want to hear. E’en th’ anecdote
May be too much to bear.” “If you dissuade,
You’ve failed,” said she. “I mean not to gloat,

But in my time I’ve learn’d t’ ignore display’d
Atrocity. I’ve seen them all invade
My territory, yet they’ve ne’er upset
Me’t all. At least down here i’ th’ sand, the shade

Encompasses all, so I never fret.”
“You speak of int’rest,” said the baker. “Let
Us hear more of your life – before you came
To this place, preferably.” “I’ll regret

To speak of it,” said she. “I would not blame
If you demand I stop before I shame
Myself. I’m sure you’d know.” “Why, that is just
Nonsense!” said he. “To start, what is your name?”

“Black Widow is my calling, if you must,”
She did reply eventually. “This dust
May chip away at my iconic dark,
Since I have long lost my crystalline crust,

But I am still that crystal pony. Hark!
I’ve made some trouble, but if I be stark,
You’d do much th’ same as I, without the guilt
That most indeed expect. You’ll see that spark

When you commit it first – or shall you wilt
To shame? We soon shall see – my moral tilt
May or may not align with yours.” “Pray tell,
What makes you ask? What lies beneath the lilt

Of your speech?” “O, allow me please to quell
Your concerns,” said she. “You’ve all had that spell
Of afterthought and regret, have you not?”
“I cannot say I know. Where does it dwell,

Your thinking?” Luna askt. “How had you wrought
Such an idea?” “I’ll tell you what you ought
To know, and nary more.” Black Widow was
Quite resolute in saying so. What brought

Such firmness to her mind? And from her jaws
She’d tell – “I hold things back from you, because
I know not either of you. – Even you,
O Princess, you have yet to show me cause.”

“I’ve heard things unbelievable – you view
Me yet as unprepared. If you knew
What beings in court have sought me, you would say
And hold nought back – you know this to be true.”

Black Widow sigh’d. “If you insist. But pray
That you are right.” She clear’d her throat. “Astray
I’ve led my life until now, e’en before
I ended up in sand, perhaps to stay

For good – had you not shown up to this shore
Without a sea – stuck here forevermore
A’ th’ mercy of the elements. Enough
Of that now, you pine t’ hear a tale; therefore,

Do gather ’round.” All three sat on the tough
Part of the land. “I married once a rough
And grizzl’d crystal pony of the guard.
When first we met six years before, the scruff

Of his chin did distract him from the yard
He had to watch. I wistl’d, and it jarr’d
His idleness. Some sev’ral hours since then,
They’d change the posting, and he’d regard

Me with the warmth of future lover. When
We met beneath your moonlight, he again
Arriv’d unshaven. Said he he desir’d
The visage of a mighty pony – then

He said that, in the guard, he was requir’d
To keep a cleaner look, lest he be fir’d.
But fortunately, he had but two years
Left in his oath before he’d be retir’d.

Those two years were the worst of all my fears –
By night, I’d pray that his guard-schedule clears
And he could – safely, early – come to me,
Before his passion for me disappears.

Then one day, after that time, he was free –
He doft his armor one last time, to see
A harden’d stallion ’neath the shining steel.
He came to me then, happy as can be

To see me once again. It seem’d surreal –
Had two years flown past? Did they just conceal
Their length of time? Regardless, there he stood,
Having remember’d me with baited zeal.

The things we did together, as we should
As two united by the heart – we would
Go walking through the fields beyond the Land
Of Crystal, or ev’ry year, walk ’neath the hood

To see the Crystal Heart, as we had plann’d
Every year, like other crystal ponies, and
When we went, I’d see other stallions too –
Of ev’ry look and like, from truly bland

To beauties marvelous. Some others knew
My lover from his duty; in the queue
He’d strike a word with other guardsponies
He once alongside serv’d, which did accrue

Impatience of me – but I would appease
These thoughts – bethinking that he was no tease;
They simply were old friends I’d never met
Before in my life. What put me at ease

Was him to introduce me in a get-
Together of his own. There, he would let
Me know them just as well as he the lot –
To let them know that I was not a threat

As well. They soon accepted me, which ought
To bring some calmness into me. And not
Long after, one of them told me that soon
He would propose a marriage – one I sought

From him too. I of course was o’er the moon
When he askt me that question, and at noon
On th’ longest day o’ th’ year, I married him
Within that yard where our fates were first hewn

From that wood of time on a simple whim.
Its elegance sheer nopony can limn
E’en now – e’en I cannot do such a thing
Myself; one simply had to go see him

And me there. – Anyway, that coming spring
We happen’d by a grassy knoll, aiming
To spend an idle day there. Lovely ’twas,
A contrast to things that were happening

That same day. As it turns out, my in-laws
Had lost one of their own – which gave him pause
For grief, for it was younger sister dear.
I mourn’d her too, as mine as well, because

When she would visit, her glee was sincere,
As she consider’d me one to be near.
– Besides, ’twas long before her time as well.
And whilst her will was read, it would appear

That whilst I got but little, I could tell
My husband would be getting much to swell
The lining of his pocket. When ’twas done,
And the bells sounded out their dying-knell,

I would confront him over this. Noöne
Expected him t’ rebuke my gripes, nor shun
Me for another week. I tried t’ inquire
Why he would do this; eventually, one

Day he told me she knew him longer, prior
To meeting me – why should I be th’ denier
Of her last word? As though that would suffice,
E’en! Thus, the situation grew more dire

By passing days. I told him once or twice,
“You know, dear husband mine, it would be nice
If we could set aside that useless argument
To get our lives together.” ’Twas concise,

But he did not wish for this – I’d cement
A wide divide betwixt us, one not meant
To be repair’d. I’d formulate a plan,
But he would stop it dead. I’d not torment

Myself o’er this for longer much. O’er th’ span
Of sev’ral weeks, I bled myself, began
T’ exhibit signs of foal that would not be,
And one night, in the dead of dark, I ran –

But not before I let my blood spill free
Across the kitchen floor. Then I would see
A larger mess created here, to fake
The fact that some horrendous killing-spree

Had in the night occur’d here. It would take
Me four hours to ensure that this would make
Him guilty of my murder. It was worth
The time and pain, for soon that bloody lake

Would yield revenge so sweet. It gave me mirth
To see him at spearpoint when from his berth
He rose that morning, and taken away
In chains of iron. None of them would unearth

The truth for quite some time, but sans delay
I hid myself, so I would not display
What I had done t’ imprison him too soon.
I hoped that would be the end – but nay,

They went asearch for my corpse. By the moon
At night, I fled the crystal-lands, t’ impugn
The facts o’ th’ matter. Soon I’d wholly leave
My home and ponies back; I’m not immune

E’en now to persecution. They would grieve
My loss, and I my exile, I believe,
For I had t’ start another life outside.
Such spousal treason one could not conceive

Before, and likely not since. I would bide
My time ’fore they forgot where I might hide
Outside the Crystal-Lands. Now you wonder:
Do I regret this? If I did, I’d lied

To you both – it felt right for me to spur
Such actions, that I’d make him a doër
Of evil. But I do suppose that peace
Would not forever last – some time after,

I would be recognized by my niece
Who came to town one day. It would increase,
Her scrutiny, as she saw me once and again,
Until she pointed me t’ her father. “Cease!”

He call’d to me, but I’d avoid the pain
Of what would happen to me should he gain
Ahold on me, so I’d not let him grab
Me, not at all – unless I should be slain.

I’ th’ space of sev’ral minutes, a dull drab
Had set in my sight, and I felt a jab.
When it clear’d, all I could see was this sand
Around me – I’m sure you’d heard that same gab

Before. And ever since then, this curst land
Has shown no mercy to me at all, and
The same betrayal I have render’d on
My husband seem’d trivial and so bland.

I soon discover’d – rather, happen’d ’pon –
The fact that I could be betrayal’s pawn.
My crystal let me shine distorted light
And make whatever I would fancy. Gone

They soon were, be it fire or wind. It might
Attract some other wand’ring souls, a sight
That they could not resist, a memory
So fond to them they had t’ relive it quite.

You fell just now into my trap, I see.
A, yes, but did you like to see your tree
From long before? I did expect you not
To find me buried here, nor pull me free.

I’ve many targets to my name; I’ve fought
A drake i’ th’ past, but never have I thought
I’d find a princess i’ th’ expanse of dust –
But thus, that was my tale that I have taught.”

Honeycomb was displeas’d. “If e’er you must
Betray your husband, then you’ve lost our trust!
And e’en what you have added to the end –
Your animosity, and too your lust

For cheating – you can never at all mend
What rift you’ve made between you and your friend
From back home. I myself am married to
A wonderful mare, who would always lend

A hoof to help, instead of leaving for who
May offer untold riches. Perhaps you
Could learn from her – not to forsake your love,
But in its stead, to see your troubles through

Together.” Livid still, he was above
A further word – but Luna could tell of
His grimace that he still had vitriol
Left over. “I shall add,” said she, “your love

Has struck deep in me such a great appall
That I cannot conjure the words to call
Upon your excommunication. But
The fact that you are stuck here – that is all

I’ll ever need to make my peace – for what
You’ve done to me and others too, your rut
Of sand is where you’ll stay forevermore.
If we should find a way home, we won’t cut

A deal for you – for you’d renege before
Long in your return. Thus, we shall ignore
Whatever you’ve t’ object with. O your wile
Of light and magic fool’d us both – therefore

We’ll leave you here to ponder all the while.
– What, you still think your tricks were not so vile?
Then reason more to stay, for you’ve not learn’d
Your lesson, have you? – Will you at all?” “I’ll

Consider your words.” “Yet you’ve not reëarn’d
Our admiration quite just yet. You’ve spurn’d
So much of what we value, we should doubt
What you say now. As far as we’re concern’d,

You’re irredeemable, and cast right out
O’ Equestria so righteously.” “You tout
Your righteousness, but do not demonstrate
Your other virtues to me. – May your trail

Grow cold, yet still retain the heat you hate;
May both of you find your return too late;
May you both suffer as I in this land,
And may you see the error, and come straight

To me again.” “Your words stop us not! Sand
Will be your home, but not ours! Come now, and
We’ll leave her to her fate.” The baker said,
“Forsooth, what do you think you can command?

What folly, this! We’ll leave you here for dead,
And there is nought you can do in its stead.
You’ll suffer just as he had – then you’ll learn,
Perhaps then, what it means to have a shred

Of dignity.” He kict sand on her – stern
His words sure were; she knew they’d not return
To save her as well. She’d stew in her own
Self-pity, but she’d easily not concern

Herself with them returning, nor the moan
O’ th’ wind above her head – and with a groan,
She tried to chase them down, but could not walk
At all. She slumpt into the sand, alone.

On th’ other hoof, the princess and th’ ad-hoc
Guide made their way to other places, t’ talk
With other beings who dwell in dusty waste.
They went as well as one, each step in lock

Along the other’s. Carefully they pac’d
T’ ensure they would not fall in her misplact
Trap. So far, there were none. “Yet I still fear,”
He said, “what else she’d make. My heart does race

About the chances still not told. Yet near
Us, I cannot find those things – nor the cheer
That can assure our loneliness. Behold
My own despair.” And Luna laught with sheer

Joy that she just found. “You are not as old
As I,” said Princess Luna, as they stroll’d
E’er on. “So do not worry yourself on
Such mysteries. Have I my dreamwalk-hold,

I could pry in there, but alas they’re gone,
My power, my spell – every bit’s withdrawn
Into my horn, and I cannot tap in.”
The baker said, “I wonder when the dawn

Would come, and if so, how we would begin
To seek another way for us to win.”
“Which is, of course, assuming that the night
Is pinned to my spell.” She gave a grin

To him. “I’d eas’ly wield it with my might
By day, but who would sleep during the light?
That’s why I’ve not tried it yet.” “I could tell,”
The baker said. “Your powers at their height

Can fell a mighty herd of dragons – well,
I do believe you can o’ercome this spell.”
“But that’s just it,” said Luna. “This whole time,
I’ve tried it on myself – before you yell,

Nay, that is not the same as thinking. I’m
Consid’ring using others – ” “Anytime
You need to test, you only need ask me,”
Said he. “That is, if you can stand the slime

Of Shade’s Corruption.” They both laught merr’ly
At his quip. Then she’d add, “I may not see
A speck of that, I’m sure – I may be wrong,
However. I will test it once we’re free.

In any case, when usually along
My dreams I walk, I eas’ly hear the song
Of memory. But here, I cannot find
That sound – and I suspect resistance strong

In you as well.” She lit her horn, to bind
Together her dream-magic with his mind,
And peer’d in to find the same condition
Existed here. “Is my spell not align’d?”

She askt. “Perhaps it is because you’ve done
So much, that you need rest, before ’tis none,”
He answer’d in kind. “Well, you must be smart –
To cast to check f’ error is little fun.

I shall stop now, and with some hope I’ll start
To solve this riddle. As we go, we’ll chart
This land so we do not find things once more –
We’ll soon head back, to the home of mine heart!”
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By now they would have gotten ust t’ how sore
The sand had chokt their throats – so they would pour
Their cloaks around their faces, try to hide
Their eyes and mouths from drouth. She would abhor

Black Widow’s deeds in life, and how she tried
To trick the two so cruelly. Luna sigh’d –
Such disappointment, stemming from her view
She made for them – this strike upon her pride

Should happen not again. – Would fears prove true,
That there was truly nought that they could do?
Were they stuck here, adrift forevermore?
She hoped not, for th’ moon’d be rais’d by who,

If not her? Dear Celestia – what a chore
It’d be for her, both sun and moon to soar
Into the sky at her arcane command.
She’d not relinquish her control, she swore,

For what might she do in that case? – The sand
Distracted her enough to lose thought, and
She soon as well regain’d her sanity.
Perhaps, surmis’d she, I would have to stand

If Sister Dear need take o’er my duty,
For if not me, then who would go to see
It done? I truly trust no other one
To do my lunar duty properly.

Were she in my place, I would never shun
Her solar contract either. ’Tis no fun
If night be all they know, much as I’d want
That dark reality – they need her sun

Just as they need my moon, e’en if it haunt
Their interval of dark. – So nonchalant
She seem’d to th’ baker, that he had t’ inquire
If she was well. “Of course!” said she. “I daunt

Nought at all – yes?” She sigh’d. “I am no liar:
I cry, e’en though my eyes could not be drier,
A’ th’ prospect of my sister left alone
Without me to raise the moon ever higher.”

“I should consider myself lucky, prone
To simpler life. At least when wind has blown,
’Tis not full of sand, as is here the case –
My old life was as boring as a stone.”

“O soft!” said Luna. “You spoke of that chase
’Twixt you and that mage, long ago.” “A place
I’d rather quite forget at once,” he said.
“Pray, do not conjure that for me to face

Again. I’ve tried so long to clear my head
Of that thing. To remember – this I dread.”
“Quite well,” said she, and spoke no other word,
But just continu’d onward. Up ahead,

She noted quite a sharp drop. There, she heard
Her voice echoing o’er and o’er, which stirr’d
In her a deep disturbance. If she fell
Within, her fears would truly be answer’d

With certain death. Honeycomb lookt as well,
And noted much the same chill in his swell.
“We’ll have to cross this somehow. I know not
Of how to do this.” There he sat to dwell

Upon an answer – yet to him came nought
That he could use. He had no rope to knot,
Nor slab of stone, nor log nor board of wood.
“I’ve nary,” he declar’d. “If you’ve soon sought

A good solution yourself, if you could
Bring forth some magic somehow – ” “Very good!”
She cried. “You came upon it on your own –
And more, ’tis better far than what I should

Conjure myself. Now hold.” The wind had blown
A bit of sand between them, fine and roan.
Then Luna lit her horn, and cast th’ arcane
Mechanics which would bring them where was shown.

A moment later, they got through the strain
Of teleporting. This was one thing plain
As a solution, yet to Luna hard
To do as habit true. She’s oft abstain

From using magic once she cast this – marr’d
By mere exhaustion, she would oft be jarr’d
If she was askt again to cast it soon.
And yet, she did not have the royal guard

To keep the peace for her. The stable noon
Did start to wear upon her. Her own moon
She longed for, but never could attain.
How then, she wonder’d, had Celestia hewn

Tranquility when night was much her bane?
But then, it’d be in much the same old vein
As her aversion to the light of day.
Of course, she’d have to stand the scorching pain

Of day, and seek the shade to cool. She’d pray
She’d find some soon, though clearly not to stay –
She knew she still had quite the quest in front
Of them. – As if to answer, there did lay

A grove of palms, asway i’ th’ wind. A grunt,
And she pusht herself on for a moment
More, until she and he both reacht their prize.
They sat beneath the shade, which bear’d the brunt

Of th’ heat beneath these clear and sunny skies.
She dug her hoof in th’ sand, to she’d realize
A water-trickle, e’er so slight. The thirst
Then manifested itself – ’fore her eyes

Was that sweet liquor. Carefully she nurst
The silent gentle flow – since she was first,
She took her fill before she let him go.
The sand was little concern – far fro’ th’ worst:

When fac’d with sandstorms or heat, there was no
Comparison for them. “How did you know
That water would flow here?” he askt. “How did
You bring it forth from drouth to mouth? Do show!”

“’Tis simple,” she replied. “How else, amid
These sands, would these trees grow? That flow is hid
Beneath us, where the roots would pull it out.
But stay your greed now, lest these trees be rid

Of their lives.” “Yes, of course – I have no doubt
That they bear first claim to this waterspout.
We are but guests here, two of multitude
Who wander just as lost on unseen route.

O Princess Mine, I mean not to be rude,
But given that we felt no thirst accru’d
In our throats, was this stop so meaningful?”
“Forsooth, I now find our temptations slough’d –

Lie not to me, I know this flow would dull
The same within you. See this not a lull
In vigor, but relief from that high heat.
Even if our thirst does amount to null,

It still doth bring us some relief so sweet.”
“I do suppose that’s true,” he said. “A treat
Like this we ought to savor, for we might
Not find another like. – And should we meet

Another soul, should we bring e’en a slight
Amount with us?” “We shall not do – despite
Your kindness, you first ought to live, of course,
To give it even; it would not be right

If you should put the cart before the horse.
Now come, finish your drinking from this source;
Away we’ll go.” And once he rais’d his head,
She pull’d him to his hooves, and mov’d with force

Much greater than before. Her wing was spread
To wean him off the shade – and yet, instead,
He took to warmer sand around the pair.
“I should think you in high mind,” Luna said.

“I am, of course!” replied he. “Cooler air
Around my muzzle and my hoov’s – sans care
I am in this time – for you would be, too;
You ought to feel this – wait, what’s that o’er there?

Where pointed he, she squinted her eyes to
See what he spotted there. Indeed, she knew
So many glimmers soon, a shining great
That even Vambrace would soon spot. Its hue

Outshone the sun above. “What things await
Us there?” askt he. “What be this gilded fate?
I say we head there; it might be a sign.
If time grows short, let’s pray we’re not too late.

What think you? Be this venerated shrine,
Or something more? What’d even be more fine?”
“I do not know,” she said. “Let’s take our leave
And see to it, if you would so incline.”

As they went, he said, “The things I conceive
Of what would lie beyond – would you believe
If it turn’d out to be another lost
Soul like us?” “Certainly I would achieve

This thinking, since thus far we did accost
Three others out here. O, it would exhaust
My efforts if we meet a pony there – ”
“Soft, Princess Mine; I’m sure you’ve only crost

Yourself,” Honeycomb said. “’Twould not be fair
For th’ other if we came with such an air
Of arrogance.” She took his words in stride,
And curb’d her mood. Perhaps she didn’t care

Still, yet the baker saw she would abide
All the same. If she cast her doubts aside,
As he had hopt, they stead’ly go forward
And see the source – and once they’ve peer’d inside,

His curiosity would be humor’d,
And Luna’s patience nary may be stirr’d.
As they both closer drew, the gleams grew high;
They both soon had to squint, lest their sight blurr’d.

“How further ’way is it?” he askt. “By sky
Above, this light does pierce into my eye!”
“You told me you had t’ see it!” Luna told.
“Well, it comes close now.” She then gave a sigh

Into a passing wind-gust. O how bold
This baker was, to see each gleam untold
As hope for their salvation to their land.
If this in fact turn’d out to be their wold,

The she would eat every grain of sand
Here. She was sure that this’d not be as plann’d,
For that would be too easy for the two.
They’d simply find nothing, and move on – and

If, on the off-chance, he was right, this clue
She’d be bewilder’d by. By now, their view
Of their goal was obscur’d by sand – but nay,
No storm had happen’d on them, nothing new

Of any sort – it simply dipt away
From their sight, as they mov’d beneath the sway
Of sandy hills. This would grant them reprieve
From blinding light ahead, but not the day

Nor heat – yet still, if they were to believe
The lull, then truly they were both naïve.
The climb back up to level was quite hard,
And Luna’s head acht when she did conceive,

Consider teleporting. She’d regard
The toil as necessary – yet it scarr’d
Their energy still. “Are we nearly there?”
She askt him. “I find that my magic’s marr’d

By sheer exhaustion.” “Well then, do not care
About its use. – Besides, we shall soon fare
Completely to the source, so falter not!”
“I hope you’re right!” But neither were aware

Of how loose this sand was – both of them thought
That their grips were fast, yet this courage wrought
A slip, and even fall. Both then struggl’d on,
With careful placement of their hoov’s on taut

Bits of sand. When they came up, it was gone,
But Luna knew which way, and soon was drawn
In its direction, with him in her tow.
It was unlikely, thought she, that ’twas a dawn

Ahead of them, but knew that ’twasn’t so.
For none they’ve met before spoke of a throe
Of darkness, nor, surmis’d she, could she make
One such night for them. Where they had to go,

It was not far from them now. She would take
The most direct path to there, sans mistake
As just before. The baker was too glad
With her own progress. “Let us not forsake

Our goal now – what we seek is fully clad
In ancient stone, and cover’d by th’ same.” “Sad –
How could we move the cover with just us?
If I us’d magic, it would soon prove bad

For my own health.” “Then we’ll need to think – plus,
We ought to break here, lest we hear a fuss
From either.” There they sat, to ponder deep
On what to do next. The time passed thus,

Yet nothing did present for them to reap.
The stone was far too tall for them to leap,
And far too heavy to move, regardless
If they us’d magic or just a great heap

Of strength. But Luna spotted it – success!
The stone had crumbl’d; where it did depress,
The sand ran freely. ’Gainst her reasoning,
She lit her horn and carv’d right through the stress.

And as the sand fell and blew on her wing,
A rather musty smell flow’d, which did sting
Her nose. It seem’d the baker notic’d too:
“What being would dwell here? What archaic thing

Would seal itself within here?” “Hush!” The blue
One lit her horn to shine cerulean-hue
Into the dark. Neither of them could find
A thing, e’en so. Soon they could not see through

The pitch, as Luna’s magic falter’d. Blind
They both were, as they stumbl’d, well confin’d
I’ th’ dark. Then Luna’s hoof found something veil’d.
Her power enricht again, her light then shin’d

Upon a hoard of gold. Her face then pal’d
A’ th’ sight of untold riches that avail’d
Themselv’s i’ th’ light. E’en as temptation set
In on her, she just staid her hoof. Impal’d

On a gold spear was a note with a threat:
“Seek not these riches, for they are mine yet;
Should you ignore this, I will settle score
By settling your newly-accrued blood-debt,

Or even worse, by taking something more!”
This Luna ponder’d. “What is ‘something more’?
Would you know?” “I would not,” Honeycomb said.
“To gather this much must prove quite a chore,

So I would not imagine in my head
The effort it took. We would soon be dead
Were we to leave with any of this hoard;
Whichever fate we’d met, I greatly dread.”

“I wonder still, O Subject – who would lord
O’er worthless riches like this? Just a cord
Of wood, still bound fro’ th’ mill. And e’en more waste
To be found here – with aurum mixt and stor’d!

Whoëver owns this certainly made haste
To gather – look here, I’m up to my waist
In what I think is dark and viscous muck.
O what a soggy mess, a foul disgrace!”

“I hope you’ve paid attention to your luck!”
The baker pointed in – they were awestruck
To see a dragon, fast in peaceful sleep.
They both went quiet, and did not run amok

Again. In careful hush, he said, “I’d leap
Across to help you, but I have to keep
My silence, as would you. Now careful, grab
This candelabra, climb right up this steep

Coin-pile, and meet me here. Take care not t’ stab
Yourself on this gar.” It was rather drab,
The candelabra, to be found in here,
Yet Luna thankt the skies that he did nab

It sometime in the past. She had no fear
As she climb’d out of th’ sludge, but only mere
Discouragement as she slipp’d on the gold,
But gain’d a grip – where they stood, they were near

The nostrils of a mighty dragon old.
To their surprise, his sleep had lost its hold
On him; he stirr’d, and rais’d his head to look
Upon th’ intruders. “Ah, who would have stroll’d

Within my cavern?” bellow’d he, which shook
The walls – yet they held firm. “I hope you took
Your final glance at this, before I blow – ”
“Nay, wait!” said he. “I realize you might cook

Us in your fiery breath – before you throw
Your flames, we only seek rest from the throe
O’ th’ outside. We want none of your precious
Gold, treasure – you can keep the lot.” “If so,”

The dragon said, “then your debt is bloodless.
Come, stay a while – I sense a stormy fuss
Outside now. – Who are you? Do tell me soon.
I am call’d Tângroen.” Said she, “As for us,

I’m Princess Luna, Regnant of the Moon;
Honeycomb is a baker. From that dune
We do not hail; we also do not see
How we came here. I think you’ve the same tune

Yourself.” “Indeed I do; I find some glee
That I was not the first nor last. – This spree
Of comings ought to end soon, don’t you think?”
“Well, we are vying for a way to free

Ourselv’s from this place.” “Hm! What missing link
Need you? I vie for much the same.” A wink,
And Luna saw through his thin-cloakt desire.
“I see your aim,” she said. “I should not sink

Another promise, e’en if we require
A third eye-pair. It is not that we tire
Of you; indeed, I’m very certain that
The baker here would well like to admire

A tale of your time thence.” “A tale!” he spat.
“If so, I must give you this caveat:
Compared to your old Equestrian life,
Mine is most vile, as I have been told at

Extensive length. Perhaps you’d tell the strife
I’ve caus’d before.” “My words may be a knife,”
Said she, “one that cuts deep into your pride.
But start; I’ll hold my tongue until ’tis rife

With chaos.” Tângroen said, “I should not hide
A single detail, then. I shall abide
By your conditions.” He then clear’d his throat.
“Once long ago, all kings knew when they eyed

My shadow in the sky. They would devote
A great cache of gold for my hoard to bloat
If it meant leaving all of them alone.
But pardon me, for now I must not gloat

On my scores. You might sit upon your throne,
Athink that all’s well, but you should’ve known
A dragon’s greed one can’t e’er satisfy.”
“I know this all too well,” spake she. “We’re prone

To dragon-raids, but we’ve eyes in the sky
Who can warn us of pending danger. – Why?”
The dragon glar’d at her. “Because I’d not
Rather deal with more than I would come by.”

And Tângroen sighed then. “I should have thought
As much. What magic ponies have well wrought
Does keep us firmly out. I’ve never breacht,
No matter what wiles, what tricks I had brought,

Your pegasi keep dazzling my sight, ’til I reacht
The ground. And even then, those folk impeacht
My competence, until I flew away
T’ return another time – or so I preacht.

Then once upon a rather gloomy day,
I found another’s hoard. Without delay,
I swept up what I could bring, and left there
Nought. All of it was mine to keep, I’d say.

As I flew through that crisp and chilly air,
I dropt some treasure, though I did not care:
I knew not when its former owner would
Return, therefore, without a moment t’ spare,

I hid my newfound gold away for good
Once I return’d home, as a dragon should,
Unlike that other one – so gullible!
To keep it out of sight, beneath some wood

I did conceal it, yet that was for null:
One could still spot it from the air, so full
I had to heap it with detritus too.
It soon got to th’ point that my hoard lookt dull,

Without the sheen of gold that dragons knew
As home. One could see this well, if they flew
O’er th’ nest. So naturally, I had to find
E’en more gold, compensating for that stew

I call’d a home. Again I found another blind
Hoard, not well-guarded. Out of sight and mind,
I stole; this cycle would perpetuate
Itself for many years, until mine shin’d

Like th’ sun again. The other ones would hate
To look upon its brilliance. O so great
Was it, was I, that I became a Lord
Of Dragons myself.” “Then what be its fate?”

The baker askt him. “How could such a hoard
Become lost? As I understand, by th’ sword
A hoard is built, and by the same ’tis lost –
And your amassing cannot be ignor’d.”

“You are correct at ev’ry count. The cost
Of this is quiet – a dragon would accost
Another more and more, by sword or word,
Both day and night, until his peace is tost

Out.” Tângroen laught. “Although that time has blurr’d,
That day soon came for me. A fiery bird
Once saw that glint, and so I chased it off.
But it return’d soon – and Equestria heard

Of my exploits as well, for they would quaff
Fro’ th’ goblet o’ war.” The dragon stopt to cough,
The fumes of smoke arising out of him.
“They carried golden arms – these I would scoff

And then would steal, but they were full to th’ brim
With zeal. They do not wage war on a whim;
They saw my hoard, and sought to have the same
For themselv’s. I believe I saw a prim

One too, Celestia – yes? She has the fame
Of dragon-lords.” “Well, I would rightly claim
The like myself,” said Luna. “Do you not know
Who Princess Luna is? My very name

Is apposite with the moon and night. No
One e’er can speak of night sans me, no foe
Who travels in the dark to haunt my land
Shall know impunity. My rage I’d show,

As would Celestia, sister dear. We stand
Together, undivided by all we face, and
We shall continue doing so.” “I see.”
Then Tângroen stretcht himself, which made the sand

Descend fro’ th’ ceiling. “I should make my plea
For mercy now, for what might you bring me?”
He roll’d his eyes. “You’ve nary power here.
I clearly saw you struggle in your plea

To break into here. Why should e’er I fear
Your retribution?” “I think that’s quite clear:
If you’ve heard of my sister’s solar might,
With ev’rything well-lit, then it’d appear

Dark would conceal my forces out of sight;
E’en if you wish perpetuated night,
You’d not be any safer. – Am I plain?”
“We’ll have to see,” the dragon said. “Your plight

Is lack of darkness in this land; your bane
Is that you cannot bring it forth. You feign
A power so great, but I shall call your bluff.
You can’t show off your might; you can’t explain

This either, save f’ admitting not enough
In terms of dominance. You speak but sough.”
“And yet,” said Luna, “all that you have got
Is worthless.” Tângroen lean’d in, looking tough,

As if his words did not suffice. “You’ve wrought
A hoard, ’tis true, but it is all worth nought.
Perhaps you could explain this departure?”
The baker stopper’d laughter – he had ought

To answer to this question of honor.
Instead, he sighed. “I shall admit per.
Your name is night and moon, and mine is gold;
It would not work if we accuse th’ other

Of falsity.” He stretcht his back. “Behold,
I shall reveal how my greed took ahold
Of my sense.” Putting claw to chin, “Now, where
Was I? Ah, yes; the battle did unfold

With hordes of ponies, led by that white mare
Who, before long, returned to my lair
When I chast off her bird. They show’d no ruth
In cutting through my heapings – then laid bare

My wicked fortune. After long came truth:
Not all was stolen from their kind; forsooth,
A good deal came from other dragons too,
And when they heard of this, I felt their tooth

Of retribution on my hide. It grew
Intense, the pain, until I fell. I knew
I would not rise again, so when I rose
In fact, I thankt the stars, whose light shines true,

That I would live yet. Here, where noöne knows
Exists, I had few in the way of foes.
I found myself free to loot as I please
Which helpt distract me from the ceaseless throes

Of this land – heat and sun, and nary trees
To speak of almost brought me to my knees.
I came across this cavern, where I’ve staid
E’er since. In time, it turn’d into a squeeze

For me, but I car’d not; I’ve always made
A fortune for myself. And thus I’ve preid
On ev’rything, but problems soon became
Apparent: ev’rything I’ve gotten straid

From any value it once had. This game
We dragons plaid soon lost its point. My aim
Was lost forever now, yet I still striv’d
To put together greater hoard.” “The same

Hoard we stand in now,” Luna said, “depriv’d
Of meaning. Pray, how has your way surviv’d
For this long? I would have surrender’d long
Ago if all I took, when I arriv’d

Back home, had lost its worth. But you were strong
Enough to keep your diligence. Your song
Of thieving must come to a bitter end,
However. What you did and do is wrong,

Regardless of whom you had offended.”
“The dragons, truly, but the ponies spend
Their uselessly.” “O, uselessly, you say?”
Honeycomb tread up on his snout. “You tend

To hold on to your fortune, whilst you say
We spend ours without gain. – You’ll rue today!
We use ours in trade, getting what we need
Or want, and you obtain to make it stay.

Indeed, ’tis useless what you do! Your greed
Is but nonsensical, and now y’ exceed
Your greatest hopes, but ev’ry thing’s for nought!
I do suppose that’s justice for your creed,

Since clearly, Tângroen, you have lost the plot!”
He firmly leapt off, wond’ring how he fought
A dragon and still liv’d. Perhaps he saw
His reasoning in these words, even wrought

A moral out of them. But from his maw
Came these words: “You are guests within my law,
So while I give you refuge from the wind
Beyond, I would expect respect. My flaw

Is quite apparent, yet you’ve also sinn’d.
As soon as that storm passes, I’ll rescind
My hospitality – since you would choose
To insult me.” Delighted, he then grinn’d

At his proposal they could not refuse.
“Unless, of course, you give up what you use
As Nighttime-Princess.” Luna was in shock:
Dar’d he to take her crown and peytral? “Whose

Things do you think you lay your claim? You talk
Of honor, but your greed betrays you. Mock
Me all you may, but never think you might
Take anything I have of mine. – You gawk

At my words, even wish for us to fight,
But I can tell you, that will not end right
For you. You fear Celestia, that is fair,
But you should fear the one who wields the night

As well – for in the dark I may not spare
A leather-hided gold-tick like you. Where
Do you think we are?” Such a piercing speech
Arous’d in him an urge t’ rampage, to tear

His cave apart. But then, before he’d breach
The walls, he heard a stillness, which did teach
Him of another way. “The storm has past,”
He said. “Begone anon, you – both and each

Have pester’d me to nary end. At last,
I have my silence and my gold ammast.”
Both th’ others roll’d their eyes, and bade
Him well without a word, and left him fast.

Indeed, they found signs of a storm that made
Its way past them. ’Twas good that they had staid
Inside the cave; the storm before did leave
Them worse for wear, so they would be afraid

Of yet another one. “I do believe
We should head on, since here we did achieve
Nothing in way of progress,” Luna said.
“You’ve other plans, don’t you? Could you conceive

Another lead?” “I’ve nothing in my head,
Regrettably,” said he. “So far, I’ve led
Us both on what you’d think are useless tales
From others stuck awander.” “Yet we’ll tread

E’er on. Such talk provid’s reprieve from trails
That otherwise seem fruitless, and unveils
The lives of others we’ve not met before,
What things they did wrong, and what that entails

I’ th’ end.” “I have to ask,” spake he. “What for
You call’d his fortune worthless? Such a score
Must still be something, yes?” “Because,” said she,
“When you have ev’rything and still seek more,

Then what you have has lost its worth, you see.
For that same reason, when he made his plea
For my regalia, I was outrag’d by
Th’ insinuation that I would agree

To give up something worth so scant, that I
Would be weigh’d down by this junk. By sky
Above, he could not be more wrong. I do
Adore these both.” “I ask again, then – why?

How did you come to gain these things? Have you
Forg’d them yourself?” She laught. “That is not true –
So long ago, when I first rais’d the moon
And sister dear the sun, the ponies knew

That we would need these ornaments, all hewn
From metals pure, adorn’d with magic strewn
Throughout them. They imagin’d they would make
Our magic stronger, so we’d move from noon

To night, in my case. Yet we did not take
These things as useful, but we’d not forsake
Their gifts so soon; we wore them anyway.
In time, they grew on us; we would awake

And slip them on sans thought, and start the day.
They were a part of us; on us, they’d weigh
But nought. Perhaps it was that magic bit,
But I think we had just become blasé

To wearing them. (– Although,” she would admit,
“I do adore so how well it has fit
My frame in all these years.) When Tângroen prest
Me for them, you can now imagine it:

My head adorn’d not, and my naked chest – ”
“Perhaps,” Honeycomb said, “it would be best
If we were to move now. Clues shall not wait
For us t’ arrive, so we shall leave soon – lest

We miss a vital thing.” A merry gait
To mask his nervousness, and he went straight
Ahead. She’d follow soon enough behind
Him, tugging her cloak o’er her face – she’d hate

To choke on sand in sudden storm, be blind
I’ th’ same. Honeycomb was not in that bind
Himself – I guess, she thought, he must be ust
To hard times where he hails from. He could find

Reprieve in any shelter, she deduc’d
Why, I’m ecstatic I’ve been introduc’d
To somepony with intution like
His. He heard nothing of this; he adduc’d

The silence to her marv’ling on the hike
Upon the hill above them. Here, unlike
The sandy depths below, a gentle breeze
Did help reduce their burden. Like a shrike,

Her eyesight pierct around the air with ease.
Forsooth, she saw i’ th’ far their destinies.
She pointed and askt, “Shall we go again?”
“If that is possible, I’d like to – please!”
> Book of Quarrel, Canto 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grains of sand that blew into her mane
Outnumber’d the stars, much to her disdain.
She wonder’d if, when she would wash it out,
She’d make her own wastes with what it’d contain.

Which was not t’ say o’ th’ baker, who about
Had just as much as she, if not, no doubt,
E’en more. Between the storm and th’ pitfalls deep,
They both were coated all the way, from snout

To tail, in that dust. They would have to steep
Themselv’s in water, where they’d find, to keep
Their fur clean and cool. As they went along,
The wind pict up, and blew to them a heap

Of sand. “At times I wonder just how wrong
My thoughts o’ th’ future are,” said Luna. “Long
Have I liv’d, yet some things still astound me.
I’m sure you, baker, know of that same song.”

“Indeed I do,” he said, “but I don’t flee
Fro’ th’ likelihood my instinct may yet see
Me right, and prove as such.” “I well can tell
Your point,” said she. “During my regal spree,

I saw so many ponies, most unwell
With grievances that I had to dispell.
Some were meant for my sister, so I’d send
Them out, and told t’ return when my moon fell

Below th’ horizon. A few, like your friend,
Your son, saw merit in the darken’d wend
To my court of night, t’ see if I could solve
Their things of trouble, see them to their end.

I truly tried, but your ills did involve
A deeply-seated poison. To resolve
It would need something anyone had not.
You might have seen how the tar did dissolve

My magical grip on the realm of thought
Between the dreams – so even if I sought
A cure for Shade’s Corruption, is it worth
The pain or the expense it would have wrought?”

“To end th’ affliction, I’d give up the mirth
O’ th’ moment, knowing fate would still give birth
To greater pleasures. Better far than t’ wait
For that eternity when plac’d in earth.

You would not know this true, what with your fate
Of life, alongside sister dear and great.
She raises up the sun, and you the moon –
Should you pass on, what awful things await,

And who should take your royal duties soon?
So much I worry for, despite that boon
That I need not do any of these things.
What next, I ask? The night to turn to noon

Before we wake?” “That is not true – such springs
Of light would never pass, for the moon brings
A shield to th’ sun perchance they ever pass
I’ th’ sky together. The night and day swings

From one to th’ other, yet they ne’er alas
Shall cross their ways. My moon will win th’ impasse,
There you have my word.” Thus the baker said,
“I do suppose I’ve never seen the grass

Be lit as well at night. But in my head
I’m still sown seeds of doubt – I duly dread
That something may go wrong still.” “Then allay
Your worries,” Luna said. “Sooner would thread

Hoist up a granite roof before the day
Would pierce my moon. Now if you’ll do away
With your hesitance, I do spy a place
To rest our hoov’s.” “I see it!” Sans delay,

They both took off at quite a breakneck pace –
With wind to blow the sand into her face,
The lunar princess then pull’d o’er her cloak
To hide her eyes fro’ th’ grains. “’Tis not a race!”

He call’d out t’ her. “I say this not as joke,
But as a warning too!” But then she spoke,
“If you recall from last time, we should haste
Before that place may turn to ash and smoke!”

As they ran on, Honeycomb could well taste
That sweet life-liquor, which was deep encaste
Beneath the ground. He’d need it sooner, too –
The running left him parched as he chaste

On to his goal. O what a splendid view
It was from where he ran – it was no slough,
But dotting trees meant water ran beneath
For them to tap into – that much he knew!

To his surprise, he found a grassy heath
I’ th’ shade o’ th’ trees – the water sure was ’neath
For them both to drink up – and when they stopt,
He spat the gather’d sand from out his teeth

And started digging at the ground. “I’d opt
To let some magic do that work.” He hopt
Aside and let her work. She felt it out
With her light, then, when her arcane flow flopt

About, she knew to dig there – then would spout
That liquor sweet of life. He stuck his snout
Into the spring and deeply drank. She roll’d
Her eyes and dug her own spring – in this drought,

She had to find all that she could. She’d scold
Him for his greed, but then she had that old
Urge to drink as well. He stuck his head up
And askt her, “How do you find these untold

Rests? Nothing catches my eye.” Like a pup,
He then return’d to th’ water. To gallop
That distance took a lot of force from him –
But just as she kept on, he’d not let up,

It seem’d. Again he wan’d – the flow grew slim
From his relentless lapping; from the brim
No water anymore would come. Forsooth,
He had his fill at least – he felt his vim

Return to him. The water gave him couth –
He felt like he was back again in youth.
The things that he could do! He’d not be beat
By older age again! “To tell the truth,

Perhaps we do need water in this heat.”
“I thought so.” Luna laught. “Else we would meet
Our ends too soon. That shall not pass – not when
Equestria waits, where water is replete

And other ponies, much more friendly.” “Then
Let’s keep on moving – who knows where a den
May be, where yet another clue could point
Us in the right direction.” “O amen,”

She said, “I wonder if we could appoint
Some further help on our quest. Thus far, joint
Work yields nought, not when others won’t assist –
Or perhaps not deserve us to anoint

Wi’ th’ fruits of our own labors. We insist
At least on some repentance – yet consist
Of just us two so far.” “Shall we take leave
Just yet? A further hint may yet exist

Beyond that hill there.” “O, do you believe
So?” “Look where I point.” She would disbelieve
His gesture, yet there was a darken’d hill –
But what’d paint it so? What would that achieve?

And if they go there, would it be for nil
Like all the others? Its dark’d give no chill
On the climb up there – th’ sun would roast them dry
Before they would arrive. Her magic skill

Of moving there at once may not apply
O’er such a distance. Regardless how nigh
They both may come, that hill would burn their frogs
Before she’d cast a suitable spell. “Why

Hesitate you?” askt he. “These dialogues
Do not distract you, nor the wind befogs
Your foresight, do they now?” “They don’t,” she said.
“Now come, I shall not wait a’ymore.” Like dogs,

They pusht on forward, valor in their head.
Behind, he saw the thing that they’d both dread –
A sandstorm, freshly brew’d. They hurried on;
Away from danger they both quickly fled.

That hill of blacken’d sand would seem a lawn
Compar’d to th’ turmoil of the storm anon.
More quickly than before, they ran away
And to the new prize, lest it soon be gone.

Ahead of them was constant light of day;
Behind, the thing that made the daylight stray.
As hot as th’ sun was, they would both prefer
To see that far ahead instead of gray

Mixt up i’ th’ air to make chaotic blur.
But Fortune smil’d upon them, as it were,
And that storm did not go beyond the grove
Where once they stopt. They slow’d their pace after

They saw th’ effects o’ th’ hill. At times they strove
For something to quell dangers whilst they rove
The land – they never thought to use the land
Itself! The hill they found had specks of mauve,

They soon saw, and what they thought to be sand
Was not – instead, it lookt like sheddings, and
’Twas not hard to find what being would make these –
“A changeling,” Luna said. “I never plann’d

To see some here. Their stories bring no glees.”
“How so?” He askt. “Their flying sounds like bees,
Hard to mistake yet; they normally talk
In voices shrill that would make you blood freeze.

I do say ‘normally,’ because they’ll shock
You with their changing magic – from a rock
To bear to pony, nothing’s out their reach.
They hide well in plain sight; they talk and walk

Much like the things they imitate. And each
One feasts on love from ponies. I beseech,
Do not let them near you within your home!”
The baker askt, “So why do you not teach

Us ponies of this threat? Those things may roam
Our streets and seem like us. Not e’en the chrome
Of moon may bare their true form to our eyes –
Pray tell, are they e’en found within a tome?”

“Soft,” Luna said, “for if you all realize
That they exist, then soon would spread the lies,
And then the hunt for changelings. I’ve seen those
Who were true ponies, yet they tore their ‘guise’

Away from them to find nought. The pain grows
As they inquire even more; painful throes
Wract through their nerves, which oft became a kill.
– And were there any changelings? Noöne knows!

This, more than anything else, is quite the real
Cause why I do withhold their existence. Will
You change your ways, pursue them with just cause?
I doubt this ever would occur.” The hill

Awaited both of them. A step, a pause,
And Luna found that it was cool. It was
True relief for her; they’d have trouble none
To cross this patch and climb to where it draws

His sight. “Come forth then, let your will be done.
You’ve bought us this far, so don’t let our run
Be all for nought.” Honeycomb then, did set
Upon the darken’d ground, and found the sun

Had shone no heat upon it. He felt no sweat
Upon his brow; no reason, then, to fret
Of burning himself on the sand! He crost
As quickly as before, and did not let

Himself slow down – and soon enough, he lost
The lunar-princess in the dust. The cost
Of teleporting all that way, she found,
Was more than she could bear – she would exhaust

Her mana in that blink, and sans a sound
Belief to justify. Besides, the ground
Was perfectly fine, so she made her way
Uphill, behind the baker, who around

That time had made it to the top. A ray
Of sunlight toucht upon the ground; a stray
Gust of wind blew in front of them; the two
Then lookt for something that would soon display

A changeling. “What thing might stick out to you?”
She askt him. “That stone there – in the right view,
It should be dull.” A flash, and there she laid.
Her back was black as night; her belly blue,

As were her eyes; her legs were hallow’d, splaid
Along her sides. She weakly got up, staid
Upright, then fell to th’ ground. “I would not stoop
Down to her field,” warn’d Luna. “You? Afraid

Of something quite so hideous?” “A group
Is far more dangerous; a single troupe
Could infiltrate and then replace a town
Before they knew.” “She’s given up her dupe,”

Said he – which only made her further frown.
“Which does not mean the others will let down
The same themselv’s. We must take caution here
If we’re t’ approach – lest we both soon may drown

I’ th’ swarm that forms from an impending fear.”
The changeling panicked as they drew near,
And sought a way to hide from them – but no,
They’d not so easily be fool’d. “I hear

That changelings like that are not keen to show
Their ruse so soon,” he said. “What do you know
Of this?” “I would not be stunn’d,” she replied.
“A changeling’s fate is seal’d if one should blow

The cover. Even if again one tried,
It would not be quite th’ same. It’s why she’ll hide
Where’er she can now, since her guise is dim.
But nay, it’s not that she preserv’s her pride –

He thinks her coming fate has now turn’d grim.”
“If desperation’s so, then on a whim
Why did she show?” “I think it may be due
To magic limited – her stock grew slim,

And she no longer could maintain her view.
Observe his stance – she thinks she now is through,
But we’ll show her otherwise. Come along;
I’ll pull you out if danger should ensue.”

The baker told himself, “I must be strong
For my son, who awaits me still for long.
A changeling’s nary threat right now to me,
So there’s no fright – I pray I am not wrong!”

But Luna heard all that, and said, “But we
Are braver than you think – we will not flee
From dangers you imagine. – There she is still!”
She pointed with a hoof – and he could see

That that poor changeling did not send a chill
Along his spine, as it before had. “’Twill
Be fine for us,” conceded he at last.
’Twould be impossible for her to kill

Us both.” He still said nought to him – his past
Fears still kept him quiet. But she said, “Avast,
You who approach me. Tell me your purpose,
And I may spare and help, or stop you fast

Within your tracks.” “You should address both us
As Princess and as baker too – no fuss!
“I know no princess here, you pretender.”
“I’m genuine as they would come – and plus,

I’ve conquer’d dangers like you, as it were.
I’ll vanish us into a sandy blur
If you choose t’ attack us. We offer peace,
But know that peace can be revoked on th’ spur

O’ th’ moment. Do not test us, Changeling – cease
Your words; I know you cannot fight.” “Release
Me from your grip of sight at least – if not,
I’ll not regain my strength and vim.” “The grease

Of your words shall not work here. You cannot
Escape us now.” “So what plan you? What wrought
You such intent?” Honeycomb said, “But sit
And stay a while. My Liege is quite well-taught

O’ th’ nature of changelings, I’ll admit,
But she would not allow this fact to split
Us three apart.” The changeling spoke again:
“I still know not your purpose here – to wit,

Why you would spot and call me out. The pain
Of truer form is agony; to feign
A form that you desire more would bring
Relief as such.” “Our purpose here is plain,”

The princess said. “We seek a path, a thing,
T’ return t’ Equestria.” “A, and by aiding
You both on that, I would secure the same,
Correct?” “We shall soon see – I will not sing

Salvation for you just yet.” “What is this game
You play, then? And how do I win?” “My aim,
For me, is t’ hear how you came to this place.
Hold nothing back; you must have nary shame.”

The changeling laught – a weak laugh, ’fore her face
Contorted in a cough. “You two would grace
Me with your presence, tramp’ling on my lull
And solitude, for only me to trace

My life before? Your speech does pierce my skull,
But I must warn you, it amounts to null
What I might tell.” “We’ve heard the same before
We’ve met – their tales prove never to be dull,

So do not fear of being such a bore
Yourself. We truly want to hear some more.”
“At your insistence, baker – hear me out.”
She clear’d her throat. “I once stept through that door

Which led to th’ land of ponies. Without a doubt,
I knew I’d not be welcome here – a shout,
And I’d be trampl’d ’fore I pled my grief.
You see, I was exil’d fro’ th’ hive, about

Three years before, and I sought relief
From my starvation. It had felt so brief
Since I was cast away, without the love
That changelings feast upon. I was a thief

For longest time, to keep myself above
The grave, and only just. Y’ extend th’ olive
Branch, but you were the first – for nopony
Would dare to shelter, safeguard, someone of

The hive. ‘Well, you’re a monster, can’t you see?
Go lie with someone else now! – Run and flee
From my wrath, for I truly would not spare
A changeling like you! Go, away from me!’

I’ll understand not why they all would care
How I would feed from their love – I’d not dare
To drain them dry, unlike my Queen of old.
But they would not hear my words; they’d just glare

Until I set away from their homes. Such a cold
Form of their hospitality; so bold
They were to think them right to do such act.
I’ve sought out other changelings – I’ve been told

That they too were left to their fates. A pact
Between them made let ponies just exact
Their wrath upon them all at once. I must
Be by myself, until I find in fact

Refuge at last. I soon came on a trust –
I’d roam a mage of travel, though my rust
Of magic kept me from fame and success.
– Which was just as well; I’d not need the lust

That came with notoriety – unless
That was the thing I’ve always wanted. Yes!
I realize that in hindsight clear and true.
In any case, I soon found, I confess

A lover of potential by my view.
Alas, he would not see my offers through.
He would insist that he was married
To someone else – but that would not construe

Surrender, not so soon for me. Instead,
I doubl’d down on my aim – in his head
I’m sure he thought me mad, but all the same
I knew that he’d be mine. As my ‘love’ spread

Across his village, others soon became
Aware of my existence and my aim.
Among the lot was his apparent wife –
Who, nat’rally, did take offense and shame.

So after long, I came within her strife –
I’m simply grateful that she had no knife
Or otherwise I’d be left there to die.
No prey of mine was ever worth my life.”

“Now wait a moment,” said the baker, “why
Do you sound so familiar?” A sigh,
And she confest, “I think that one was you.
Your building stone, a thatched roof on high,

And gaily-color’d decor in my view.”
“O yes, that is my shop!” he cried. “And true,
You must have been that one annoying mage.”
“Indeed,” the changeling said. “You clearly knew

My voice too well. I deeply rue your rage,
But I starv’d, and your goods could not assuage
My ill. You knew me ’fore as Arcane Tome,
But my true name is Sark’e. Nary stage

Would welcome me at all, so I would roam
On stony land or soft-dissolving loam
To show the ponies what I can perform
Before their eyes. I could not move the chrome

O’ th’ moon, unlike you, but I’d change my form
To be like her – ” she pointed thus. “The norm
For changeling-magic is deception cold –
Be I alone, or in a massive swarm.

But I was exil’d – even as I told
The ponies this, they’d not believe their hold
Upon me had been shatter’d long before.
It matter’d not if I were paid in gold

Or fully ridicul’d and shown the door,
Th’ result was still the same – I could not score
The love of others. As time moved on,
I found the magic trickery a chore,

One I could not stand for much longer. Gone
Was my incentive, so one early dawn
I gave the practice up, went to th’ city
Of crystal ponies, and was shoct anon!

For this was changeling haven, so to see –
The love abounded, flowing widely, free
For me to take. I found myself in health
Restor’d, so then I had no cause to flee.

My false appearance gave me greater stealth
As I walkt through the streets. No larger wealth
Could e’er exist, not in the hives, nor in
Equestria. Then I met him, in poor health

But quite resplendent in their love. He’d been
In pain for quite some time, and would begin
To shuffle off soon into that hereaft.
He married some time ago. I’d win

All th’ same, if you taught anything.” He laught,
But then chokt on the sand in wayward draft.
“In any case, to my surprise so great,
She would soon leave him. I senst his love waft

Through th’ air, his unrequited love. Too late
’Twould be to save their bind, but I’d just wait
Until she left – and whilst she kept outside,
I’d enter, and would help him ease the weight

Of his affliction. I took him in stride,
And never once left his bedridden side
Until she would return. And in those hours
When she would rule the roost, I’d run and hide

In places yet unseen – amid flowers
I’ th’ garden, or aloft in the towers
O’ th’ square. A week of this, and soon she left
Him for good – I told him the time was ours

To do as we would please. He was bereft
Of love, for once, so I had t’ change with deft
Into his wife. He soon began t’ regain
His health, but then I notic’d quite the cleft

On his right side, along a bloody stain.
I askt him, ‘How did this come? Did you strain
Yourself too hard one day?’ He told me ‘Nay –
Although she said it was all in my brain,

I once was stabb’d there, in the light of day,
But out of sight of others. I would pray
For my relief, but she would give me none –
“The wound has heal’d,” she told me so, “don’t stay

In bed for such long time.”’ I lookt i’ th’ sun
To get a better view. ‘You’d soon be done
If I’d not interven’d. I wish you well –
But first, I should give my healing a run.’

I cast a life-rift, let my magic dwell
Upon his aging wound, until my spell
Would close it up, and sev’ral others ills
Were solv’d as well. ‘Why, I can’t even tell

That that wound ever happened. Your skills
As healer do not disappoint – it fills
Me with renewed hope. My life as debt
I swear to you.” How perfect! ’Fore my trills

Would give away my form, or I’d forget
Which look I must assume in public yet,
I took her place as his wife. She’d return
Not once again, to fortune mine – no threat

Of giving me away I could discern
Once that had past. I still kept taciturn
Around the house, so as not to disturb
The neighbors. Ev’ry night, as I would earn

The rest and prize, I’d feast on his superb
Love. I was careful quite not to perturb
His sleep. For sev’ral years I kept the ruse –
His love was cultivated like an herb,

So delicate and sweet, I’d not refuse
Another helping when I could – t’ reduce
The odds of him deducing my purpose,
Of course – I for one was above abuse

(Though this had caus’d my banishment). So thus,
I had to limit what I’d take from us.
And in the interim, I’d thought I’d found
A hive of mine own. Was it worth the fuss?

Well, I say yes – beneath the crystal ground,
’Twas hard to dig, but it was very sound.
With love abound in stores, I would gestate
A newer generation all around

The cavern I had made. At any rate,
I’d soon enough, but their combined weight
Would cause the ground to shift, and soon my plan
Was found out all too soon. It was too late

To keep my guise alive for them. I ran –
But not before I took him, for my clan
Would not survive without the other gone.
We hurried away, for about the span

O’ another week – once just another pawn,
But now a queen in her own right. Noöne
Could think that I could do it, yet I did –
Or truly tried, at least – I’ve readied spawn

F’ a conquest, but to my dismay, my bid
Was foil’d before it could begin. They rid
Of my newlaid brood, burnt them each and all,
Left not a trace. They’d soon enough forbid

My and his own return to th’ Crystal Hall,
Which stranded us amid a winter squall –
(I knew then why, in summer, we lay brood). 
We soon would come upon a changeling-thrall

Who heard the news of crystal’s endless food
For me and all of them. I broke their mood
Informing them that this was not to be –
I’d been discover’d, rooted out, and shoo’d

Away from their home. This lot would soon see
That I be disciplin’d for my deeds. Three
Would carry me back to their home-hive, where
I was put to work in their hatchery –

A proud spy, now reduc’d to larval care!
You may now understand my bitter air,
If I still had one. One day, illness came,
And as the code said in this foreign lair,

I was suspected first of evil aim.
I pled my case, to no avail – their shame
For me was palpable; they’d not allow
To hear what I would say to shift the blame

To elsewhere in the hive. Despite my vow
To their cause, none of them could e’er see how
I could bring in the sickness to the hive
When I have never left it anyhow!

That left me little choice but leave – alive,
At least, but pray tell me, how little drive
Had I to keep on running? My love was
Taken from me as soon as we’d arrive,

So I could not bring him with me. Their laws
Were strict, despite their conspicuous flaws.
In any case, I was again alone,
In unknown and cruel land, which e’en now gnaws

I’ th’ back of my mind – changeling spy, turn’d drone,
Turn’d nomad once again. If I had known
My life would be insane like such, I’d turn
And leave the hive at once. As fate had shown

To me so many times, I’d have to earn
A better end for just myself – return
Was not an option anymore, not when
I’ve done so much deception, all to earn

The ire of my kind, notably my den.
After a long time, I stopped in a fen,
One damp still from the springtime rain.
I wonder’d still if I’d survive – and then

My final detriment: I saw my bane,
The bane of any changeling – ’twas insane!
A cockatrice had corner’d me, its stare
To petrify me where I stood. The pain

Of stillness was bad, but that stony glare
Would also mean we changelings could not dare
To shift our shape, as you know we are wont
To do – which meant us stuck in naked air

As our true selv’s. This nightmare would yet haunt
Me, even now, because this land would flaunt
The danger. I hid wherever I could,
Which always workt, but left me very gaunt

As I had nary access to that good
Sustenance call’d love. Changelings never stood
Its absence for too long – ’twas why we sought
To infiltrate the pony’s land – you would

Do th’ same, if you were I. You’ve seen the rot –
Those patches of my chitin you would trot
O’er to get here now litter this hillside.
Each piece that falls off me protects me not

Again.” “So I see,” Luna said. She sigh’d.
“Without our love, you cannot live. Inside
Yourself, you cannot make your own. How sad!
Our love is easy to sustain – you’ve tried

To steal that much away from us.” “Be glad
You’re terrible at this your task. So bad
You were, to gain it from me, back when you
Met me in my town,” said the baker. “Had

You been more subtle, you would soon accrue
Enough love for yourself to live a true
Long life. But nay! you had t’ annoy old me.
Look where that got you. If I knew your true

Identity – ” “’Twould be enough, I see,”
Said Luna. “We will listen to your plea,
And see if you are worthy of salvation.
If true, then you can well make our two three,

And see our way out with us – when we’re done,
We would help assimilate you as one
Of us. If false, if you should still deceive
Our trust and notion, we’ll show mercy none;

We’ll leave you here to suffer as you grieve
Your fortunes of long past. All you’d achieve
In such a case is our disdain, which will
Not work well for you, if you could believe.

– Do you accept?” “I do!” she said – a shrill
Voice piercing th’ air, at her excitement still.
“Though I must ask,” she added. “If I may,
With your permission, I shall use my skill

At shifting shape to demonstrate.” “I’d say
That much is within reason,” she said. “Pray
You do not tread too far – for we will know
If you would shift to lie, and then – ” “Okay!

I fully understand!” she said. “I’ll show
You what I mean. I’ll shift now rather slow;
You’ll presently see what I do.” In flash
Of fiery green, she would emerge as though

Th’ entire time she was another. Ash
Would litter th’ ground, beneath her. “O, my stash
Of magic has return’d.” “Thank me for that,”
Said Luna. “I’ll ensure that you don’t crash.”
> Interlude I
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“To wit,” the changeling started, “I begat
A life of taking love. Upon a flat
Steppe, I was cast away – or rather, ‘freed’
Fro’ th’ hive. I still had my shifting format;

I would become whatever they would need,
Whichever would allow me to succeed:
Physician, royal guard, e’en their best bloke –
It matter’d not – and soon enough they’d bleed

Their love to me.” And all the while she spoke,
She shifted form to show to them. No joke,
She truly could be any these. No flaw
To their looks or their sounds, nor did she cloak

The same to them. “Was it against the law?
The rest of me was, so why bother? – Pshaw!
It made no difference for me anyhow;
I had to keep the charade up. Voilà,

At some point I could not avoid, I’d sow
That fate I mention’d earlier. And now
I’m left awonder if you came upon
My petrified remains. I know somehow

That statue still is i’ th’ fen, never gone
Away. And after such a long aeon,
My sanity must have eroded to nought.
Why, you two must be fragments of the con

That’d play within my mind! But if you’re not,
And if you truly can pull me from rot,
Then pay some closer attention to me.”
Then Luna shook her head. She said, “I thought

You’d justify your actions to both we.
I’ve heard nought of that, so what shall it be?
Will you come home with us, or stay right here?
I know you’ll choose your next words carefully,

For you know th’ consequences – are they clear?”
A bead of sweat ran down her head, of fear –
The fear that she may not convince the two
Of innocence hers. She would have t’ adhere

To just her testimony. She’d see through
Her lies, should she try – her options were few.
There truly was but one way to escape.
Her choice had been made – she’d have to stay true

To her intent. She once again chang’d shape
T’ resemble th’ mage. His mouth was left agape,
To see her once again, amid the sand
To boot. “You really are her.” Then her drape

Would fall, as she would shift again back – and
Then she spoke, “I realize now, in this land,
That what I’ve done to you and all was wrong.
I should seek me forgiveness – here I stand

Before you both – yet it has been so long,
I know not if I’ve earn’d my peace. Along
The way in my stay here, I have suffer’d
Starvation great, and horrors by the throng,

I’m sure by now that all that has color’d
My view of your Equestria. As your third,
If you’ll have me as such, I vow to lead
To our salvation. I realize my word

Is well devoid of meaning, but I need
Release as much as you both do. I plead,
I beg, let me join you!” The baker glanst
To Luna, who roll’d her eyes. “If you’re freed

From this place, how do we know if we’ve chanst
A mighty risk? That further is enhanst,
O Sark’e, the less trust we both can place.”
“Besides,” he said, “how know we how advanst

Your statue’s erosion is? In a space
So wet year-round, the water would displace
Your features, bit by bit, ’til nought remains.
By now, there may not even be a trace!”

The changeling’s heart sank, as this thought pertains
T’ a fate that she would not consider – O the rains
Of cruel destruction! She put a hol’d hoof
Up to her ear – ’twas still intact, no pains

Of that erosion she could feel. Aloof
She still was, for she could provide no proof
That she indeed was trustworthy. She sigh’d
And glanc’d to Luna, “I’ll no longer spoof

My look, nor would I my words. If I’d lied,
Then leave me here – ’twould be as though I died,
Adrift in sandy heat. But stay a while,
For a bit of guidance I could provide:

For whilst the curses o’ th’ land may be vile,
It too provides some safety with a smile.
Unlike old I, if you are pure of heart,
Then you perhaps would not need fear the pile

To fall on you, nor to dry out. No chart
Could guide you on your way, but if you’re smart,
You’ll need none anyway.” “I do suppose
What you say rings true,” Luna said. “Impart

A little more, if you could.” If she chose
This route of her redemption, then who knows?
She could return t’ Equestria with them both!
She smil’d – with truer gratitude. “The throes

Of this land may be too much for you,” quoth
The changeling. “Let this truly be my oath:
If you bring me, I’ll see you safe and sound,
And I will be nought but the honest troth,

Both in my words, and in my form.” “I’ve found
That those who vow the most are well-renown’d
To show forsooth the least,” said Luna. “What
Can you present as token of newfound

Friendship?” As though on cue, the changeling shut
Her mouth, and twitcht her limbs. They’d shift and jut
In each and ev’ry way, until they came
To rest. And in a cloud of fire and soot,

The changeling shifted. “What!” she would exclaim.
“Celestia?” Sark’e certainly became
Her sister, somehow. She stood with a blank
Look on her face; still also was her frame.

The baker wav’d his hoof. “Is this a prank?”
“I think not,” Luna said – for her heart sank:
The changeling could not hear her, not at all;
Some unseen force had taken o’er her rank.

The lunar-princess wonder’d, in that hall,
Had she found her asleep? Would she recall
Her back to Canterlot? Honeycomb, too –
Is passage his assur’d, or is his fall

For good? So many questions, answers few!
She askt the obvious “What do we do?”
Then “Can you hear me, sister? Are you there?”
No answers came – she hadn’t had a clue

Why this was so. Why would she n’ at all care
When her dear sister stood here? Knew she where
She was? Around herself could she not see?
Forsooth, of what concerns was she aware?

With gentle care did Luna tap her knee –
She did not flinch, nor e’en acknowledge she.
And then, she saw her mane drift in the breeze.
Shall she respond soon? What would her words be?

As though in stone, with no amount of ease,
Celestia cran’d her neck down to her sister. “Please,
Say something to me,” Luna pleaded. “Why
Do you insist on such charades like these?”

A golden light descended from the sky
T’ illuminate her from behind. Nearby
The dust began to stir into a storm.
“O Princess Mine,” the baker said, “don’t die!”

’Twas all that Luna heard before the swarm
Divided them. “What sorcery perform
You?” she demanded. She got not a word
From her yet. Truly this was not the norm

For sister dear. Her vision grew more blurr’d
With ev’ry passing moment. This storm stirr’d
Her mane and fur into a ghastly mat.
Was this Celestia’s doing? How absurd,

The thought! Why should she cause this ruckus, at
A time and place like this? These thoughts begat
Her leaving through the storm, away from this
Mess. “Let me know when you rescind!” she spat.

Celestia spoke then. “Sister, how I miss
You.” Luna spun around – she’d be remiss
If she did not hear that right. “What’d you say?”
She askt. “Come closer, sister mine” – a hiss

I’ th’ howling wind, but still as clear as day.
Thus, Luna did return to her, without delay.
“Again!” she said. “I have to hear you speak!”
Celestia paus’d for but a moment. “Pray

That you can hear my words. Beyond that peak
That punctur’s th’ sky like a spear, you will seek
An out from these throes.” “What thing? I beg, more!”
But ’tseem’d that she heard her not. “Be not weak,

My sister dear, for other ponies will wish for
The same thing for themselv’s t’ return. Before
They claim it, you must take it for your own.”
“But what thing must I seek? Tell, I implore!”

Then Luna’s eyes aswam with tears, from blown
Sand and her desperation. “By our throne
And court, why won’t you say another thing?
How soon must I find? Will I be alone

On this task? Sister, let me hear you sing
About my quest ahead! I’ll eas’ly bring
Whatever ’tis you say that I will need!
Celestia told her then, “Cease your asking,

I realize you have much you want to heed,
But you have ought to mind your knowledge-greed.
I have but little in the way of time,
So ev’ry moment matters much.” “Agreed!”

And Luna spoke no more. “That coming climb
Shall be most difficult for you, in clime
That neither of us know before, but still
You must proceed, if you’re to see the prime

Of our land once again. Your magic skill
Can help to seek it out, but you must spill
No blood in this your quest, for that blood ties
You to this realm beyond my reach. You will

Succeed, that much I know, but by the skies
Above us all, I must warn you – realize
That you may meet those doom’d to such bleak view,
And who may try to slay you. Be more wise,

And spare them all, no matter what they do.
You may find others t’ help you see this through –
Allow this t’ happen, but do not attach
Yourself to them, for they are bound there too.

You’re little-known amid there. Should they catch
Your sight with that key with you, they may snatch
It out of your hoov’s. Do not let that pass,
But do not even let a single scratch

Befall them.” It sounds difficult, alas,
Thought Luna. If this be our only impasse,
Then ’tis one I’ll accept, if I t’ return
Back home. What o’ th’ baker? Could I amass

Enough to bring him ’long? How would I earn
That much, in any case? O how I yearn
For answers, yet I must hear sister talk
At length, if I were well to hear and learn

What information she’s, so I don’t balk
A vital thing. This storm does well to block
Out both the bright sun and my counterpart.
Celestia did continue, “On your walk

To where you ought to go, be mindful – heart
Can only get you so far. Sans a chart
From me or any else to point your way,
You’ll need to use your wiles, wits, to outsmart

The ones you meet, who may lead you astray
From your goal. Let their trickery not sway
Your judgment, lest they claim your fancied goal
Before you do.” Of course! she thought. I’d pay

Too much of my mind to them on our stroll
Amid this land. But what knew they? The sole
Task at hoof is to break free from this waste,
E’en if it means I’d leave the rest i’ th’s hole.

Had she spoke well enough? We must make haste
If we are to succeed. “In rapid-pac’d
Steps, you may win, but heed what I have said,
Lest you shall lose, and thus remain here, fac’d

With horrors not known to me in my head,
And all this effort worth not e’en a shred
To reach you. Fare you well, my sister dear,
And greater fortune on the road ahead.”

The sandstorm dissipated, going clear
Before her eyes. And too, her sister dear
Became as stony-stiff as was before.
“O there you are!” Honeycomb said. “How near

Are we to our goal?” “Getting there’s a chore,”
Said Luna, “but we’ll persevere e’er more.
That mountain top there, th’ one that we have seen?
That’s where our goal at hoof now lies.” “I implore,”

He askt, “how are you sure of that?” “I mean
By that, Celestia told me in between
The storm that what we seek lies on the peak
Of yonder mountain.” “If you reconvene,

You must ask her why we have got to seek
At that location.” “That I shall,” she’d speak.
Another moment later, Sark’e’s form
Began to shift again. The changeling, weak

From magic very well outside her norm,
Spat out some dust. “Why, it feels like a storm
Of sand had gather’d up i’ th’ air, whilst I
Was trapt within a trance.” “I must inform

You,” Luna said, “that, in those moments, my
Dear sister may have taken control.” “Why?
And how?” “I do regret, I know not how,
But I do know, in between my reply,

That we pursue a tangible goal now.”
“And I can tag along; would she allow?”
Said Luna, “That remains to be seen. Well,
I’ll have to mull o’er your words, per my vow.”

The changeling took a step, but quite soon fell
Into the sand. “I’m stiff! I cannot tell
How this is so.” “I could attempt a guess,”
She said. “Perhaps this is where you will dwell

For all eternity to come – unless
It’d prove otherwise, e’en if you confess
T’ your troubles, you may not at all redeem
Yourself.” And then the changeling sigh’d. “O yes,

I understand that all too well. It’d seem
You never were here t’ help. I could not gleam
Th’ intent from either of your minds at all –
So say no more, and leave me here. Your team

Is two, but never three; you hear the call
Upon the mountain top. May throes befall
You not, and all on me. I shall remain
Upon my hill, and stand against the squall

Of sandy wind alone.” Wi’ a grunt of pain,
She turn’d herself into a boulder plain.
The baker sigh’d. “I wonder how we could
Have helped her.” “Perhaps we should abstain

From vowing t’ others,” Luna said. “We should
Be focusing upon ourselv’s. ’Tis good
That you look out for others, but you must
Save first yourself, Honeycomb – understood?”

“O Princess Mine,” he said, “I wish I’d trust
Your logic, truly I do – ” “You’re biast
Once more,” she said. “You ought to set aside
Your charity.” And from his throat, a gust

Of both regret and relief. “As your guide,
And while the path we lead is paved wide,
We shall make our way up that mountain top
And claim ourselv’s our well-earn’d prize. Our stride

Shall be long, rapid, and shall never stop
Until – ” “Enough, I say,” said Luna. “Drop
Your theatrics; a simple ‘yes’ shall do.”
The baker nodded. “Yes!” A single hop

To come out from the sinking sand, and th’ two
Are on their way once more. Th’ uncharted view
That stretcht before them beckon’d both of them
Along their way. The sky adorn’d a hue

Of gold, an odd phenomenon that’d stem
From unknown source. O, what a gem
The light was! The journey’d be lit so bright,
But getting there would take some stratagem.
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Was that your sister?” askt he. “What a sight
To see, if this be true!” But th’ one of night
Would say but nought, but fixt instead her eyes
Upon the yonder mountain-peak. Her fight

Was over not, but started, she’d realize,
And sure as th’ sun would shine high in the skies,
She’d see this task full through, and baker too –
No matter what, she’d seek a compromise

If what her sister said to her was true:
The promist path could only take one through.
She’d truly hate to break the baker’s heart,
But knew as well that, if indeed she knew

A second way, she would to her impart.
But no such word would come – she’d not get smart
And try a thing that’d seal them both within
This desolation. Magic is an art,

But some quandaries one can never win.
“My Liege,” the baker said, “what shall you spin
Together next? What tale fantastic shall
Enamor both of us?” Where to begin?

She thought. If only I could well recall
A thing to tide him over. Not at all;
I shan’t resort to such a bitter tale
Of boredom and of tedium. “Our fall

Must have left me without my thoughts. I fail
To conjure to you something worth the wail.
I must keep silent, for I’ve nought to say.”
“My Liege, still, whilst we go a’ th’ pace o’ th’ snail,

And whilst the sun shines on eternal day,
Not a thing you’d say brings me boredom. – Nay,
The things you’ve told indeed were fantastic,
So tell me some at all! We’re not halfway

To where we ought to go, and we’re not quick
T’ arrive there either.” Sudden winds would kick
The sand into their faces, forcing them
To tighten up. “O how I grow so sick

Of this clime. Tell me, does such dryness stem
From other places in our home?” She’d hem
And haw o’er th’ answer, ’fore she fin’lly said
“I’ve never seen a land with such mayhem.

’Tis foreign to me and Equestria.” Said
The baker, “How events like these have led
From Shade’s Corruption to this sandy waste
Is well beyond me, but I would not shed

A bead of sweat to see how we’ve displac’d.”
“And yet,” spake Luna, “I know one misplac’d
Pony who sought me in my nightly court.
Perhaps you’d like to hear still?” “With all haste!”

She went with this: “One lonely night, a sort
Of unknown law-mare came to me, t’ report
And too defend another. I knew well
What she intended; I saw them in court

At least once per month, whene’er they would tell
That I could see them anytime, to quell
Their grievances. Well, anyway, this mare
Was honest – to a fault. Her case’s knell

Came when she least foresaw it. Sans a care
She let slip that her client would not spare
Remorse. Why, I would side with sentiment
Unlike, and then with such a haughty air

Like hers, it only hurt her argument.
I breath’d my words to her: if he meant
The harm that he did, then he would be cast
T’ his end, so he’d not harm – but in th’ event

That he’d regret, and truly so, the last
Thing I would want to do is let him past
Through th’ pend of Styx. Instead, I sent him out
And spake directly to the mare. Steadfast

Was her will; resolute was she. No doubt
She had prepar’d for this eventual bout
Of sudden questioning intense from me.
I opened, ‘So, what’s this all about?

What did y’ intend to do? To set him free?
If this be so, then you have fail’d. If we
Are to reach an agreement, pray tell, why
Would you not withhold such a thing, to see

Your argument to fail at once?’ I’d spy
A gleam of madness deep within her eye.
She said, ‘O Princess Mine, I had have hope
That you’d accept my honest story, buy

What truths I’d offer, set him free. But nope,
I reckon you would not go down that slope.
I told you ev’rything you ought to know.’
‘And that,’ I told, ‘is where you have to cope

Wi’ th’ facts: at times, ’tis best if you’d not show
Your cards all at once; almost ’tis as though
You play a hoof. You have done that before;
To lay gold at stake for a good deal – no?’

‘But honest truth,’ she said, ‘I do adore;
I cannot find how one would e’er implore
To hide a fact fro’ th’ world. I wonder how
You could think ever saying any more

Than just the facts – ’ ’Twas far as I’d allow.
‘Enough!’ I said. ‘I order, leave me now.
You’ve done less for him than he could alone;
’Tis quite the feat, reneging on your vow –

In such a manner, too! How could you hone
Such adverse arts and skills? – This thought the throne
Shall ponder by itself; you are to leave
At once, before I summon guards.’ A moan

Of pure frustration, as if she’d believe
Not what I’ve just told her, and she would heave
Herself out the court halls. I later took
Some pity on her client, grant reprieve

For what he did – which, as it turn’d out, shook
Me deeply. He was a victim, mistook
For someone else. Well, how could he regret
What he did not? A tale for the lawbooks,

No doubt – I told him as such, then I let
Him walk free into my night. A’ th’ onset
Of day, and longer since, I’ve ponder’d deep
What would become of that mare, of that threat.”

She sigh’d, and chuckl’d to herself. “In sleep
I still seek her, but likely she’s i’ th’ deep,
Where I can never reach her anymore.”
She shook her head. “Her habits would beget

Her fate in coming time.” “I do implore,”
He askt, “what if we find her on this shore?”
She laught. “That would be shocking just to see
Her here. I wonder what she’d have in store

For us.” And other words would not fly free
From either mouth, as both would wander. Ye,
Though much could be told, neither of them spoke
To fill the silent void with vocal glee.

A gentle wind would stir the sand, to soak
E’en more into their furs, which would invoke
Some irritation from the princess. “Bah!”
She shook herself, to lose it. “What a joke

This land must be.” “And yet, its magic law
Does well to keep us rooted. Why, you saw
What it has done to six more – so I ask,
How much respect is that worth? – Et voilà,

You have no answer.” “Focus on our task,”
She shot back. “Let my silence be no mask
For my obtuseness. Hold on!” Up a limb
Went, stopping him from going forth. They’d bask

In blazing heat and blinding light – for him,
It felt like all time in an hour. A slim
Hoof pointed down, and then he saw what made
Her stop, along with him. Here was the rim

On th’ other side o’ th’ hill, and if he paid
Attention, he could note that this sand swaid
I’ th’ blowing wind. “Perhaps you’d like to glide
Down this hill?” Luna offer’d. He’d be staid

Not from this jollity – for first he’d ride
Down this slope, with her trailing at a stride
To match him just so. O indeed, what fun!
Th’ opposing wind forc’d both of them to hide

Their eyes from the oncoming sand. Their run
Soon reacht them at the base of the hill. Done
With gentle gliding, both of them stood tall
And took in their surroundings. This land’s sun

Would show a gentle glimmer. “Let’s not fall
For that particular trap,” Luna’d call.
“For we both know what’d happen if we did.”
“And each time,” said the baker, “we would crawl

Out from it just fine.” “Which does not make rid
O’ th’ danger,” Luna argu’d. “If we bid
Free from this harmony-forsaken place,
Then finding newer leads I must forbid.

Lest the so-call’d “friends” would decide to chase
Us to the goal. I hear them now: “Your Grace!
You must bring me; I know a safer way
To th’ top! But leave him here – his slower pace

Would drag you back, which would cause you delay
And possible loss. By my sister’s day,
Would you believe such drivel if they told
You to leave me here on my own?” “O, nay!

I’d never, not for any prize!” She roll’d
Her eyes at his theatrics, yet she’d hold
Her sanity – at least she could place trust
In him. “I’ve heard each vow; they’re all as old

As I have liv’d.” The baker seem’d nonplust –
And then his realization crost his dust-
Cak’d visage. “Naturally. Let us not wait
For trouble to find us alone – we must

Keep going, to that peak!” That shining bait
Would get no bite today, at any rate.
They started once more on their journey’s path,
Yet Luna wonder’d – what would be their fate

If it they’d not ignore – what’d be the wrath
They’d face? Another windy, sandy bath?
She shook her head – these fears’d not influence
At all, as long as she stuck to the path.

And yet, to th’ baker, that sheen’s brilliance
Would only draw his eyes. Though his silence
Told Luna of his will, his eyes did not,
And soon she’d be aware of this. “At once,

Tell me if that sheen you saw is still sought,”
She would command. His attention was fraught
With something else, which answer’d her quite well.
She bloct him with a hoof; the baker caught

A glare from Princess Luna, ’fore he fell
Into the sand. “There was no need to yell,”
He stammer’d out. “I could hear you just fine.”
But Luna was not yet convinc’d. “Pray tell,

What did I tell you just now?” “That no fine
Light-glimmers should sway me, nor misalign
My trail.” Not quite precisely what I said,
But it will have to do. “The error’s mine,

I see that now; I was not clear i’ th’ head.”
But Luna sigh’d. “Perhaps if such a shred
Of curiosity cannot be thrown
Aside, we will see to our path ahead

Another time.” They both trudg’d on – alone
They’d soon be lost here, but this land has shown
That staying well together does them good.
A squint through brightness, and they saw a stone

House, standing by itself. The rotting wood
That made the roof and door, as they saw, could
Break in at any moment. And that sheen
That they both saw came from where th’ window stood.

’Twas this place, or uncharted land. Between
These choices two, they chose familiar scene.
The baker knoct upon the fragile door,
With utmost care, so it’d be left pristine.

A single mare would answer that, before
Too long. Her jaw would hang down to the floor
When she saw Princess Luna standing here.
“By skies above!” she cried. “Upon this shore

I’ve found the one who’s ruined my career!”
This sent her reeling back – a wicked sneer
Had plaid across her face. “O finally,
We meet again, O Princess Mine – a mere

Twelve years since you had once expelled me
From court. I say, you’ve made a mockery
Of me!” It seem’d she started telling her
Tale, all unbidden. “Hey! Before y’ agree

To speaking to us yet another slur,
I should ask you who you are.” “As it were,
I’m Tipt Scale – Law-Mare, at least, long ago.
Shall that remark suffice as your answer?”

“For now, it would,” the baker said. “Although
How would you recognize the Princess so?”
“Perhaps I must confess to you,” she said.
“When I said I’d be shoct if she would show

In this land, I well meant it. In my head,
Her visage is burnt. Only when I’m dead
Would I forget that Tipt Scale. ’Tis the same
Mare I had chastis’d in the stallion’s stead.”

“Indeed, O Princess Mine, you are to blame
For my descent to failure!” she’d exclaim.
“Your proclamation was made without fight,
And you still see yourself as right? – For shame!”

The baker shook his head – of course she might
Remember what she did, resent that night
That Luna show’d the error in her plan.
Small wonder, then, she chastise her on sight.

“She’s honest, yes, which is much better than
The lies of Glister,” said she. “’Cross the span
Of this land, now at last we meet a one
Who follows Harmony as best one can.”

“In any trial,” said the baker, “none
Is more important than to hear words spun
By both sides. Tipt Scale, will you kindly tell
Of what had happened, what you have done?”

“How honor’d I must be,” she said. “I fell
From grace, without a word. I’m just a shell
Of my past self. And now, I see, at last
I can speak what I know!” “No need to yell,”

He said. “We hear you all the same; your past
Can come to light now.” “My tale will contrast
With Luna’s testimony perfectly.
You’ll soon see who speaks the truth.” “Not so fast,”

Said Luna. “I know you can speak it free,
But do you know when not to speak it me?”
“We’ll soon find out.” The law-mare clear’d her throat,
And started off, “Even now, I still see

That torch-lit palace you call home. I’d note
A lack of guards that night, but never gloat
The fact. Within my tow, that stallion nam’d
One Falling-Night, who stood accus’d, as wrote,

Of promising clear nights – and others blam’d
Him for delivering nought as he aim’d
To do. But he made no such mighty vow,
That that was your purpose – or so he claim’d.

Regardless, as is my job, I’d allow
Him to appear within your court, endow
Him with your words, instead of your sister’s –
Perhaps his logic was but pathos. How

Could we win otherwise? The stars were blurs
That night – was that your doing? – which angers
The ones who were yet still accusing him. 
I sought you e’er thoroughly for answers,

Whilst spilling forth the facts, however slim
Their relevance may be. My mother’s hymn,
When I was growing up, was that a lie
Was not acceptable, e’en on a whim

I’d benefit from speaking not.” A sigh,
And Luna saw where she went wrong. “How sly
I could have been, but nay, my habits old
Had staid my hooves. I could never shy

Away from truth, no matter what’d unfold
If I said otherwise. The quiet is gold,
But I’d deprive myself too of that gift.
I do recall a time my mother’d scold

Me for a thing I never did – a rift
Betwixt us open’d up which caus’d a shift – ”
“You’re wand’ring,” Luna said. “Another tale
You start to tell. ’Tis nice, but please don’t drift

Away fro’ th’ matter.” “Yes, of course – it’d pale
In a comparison, no doubt. I’d quail – ”
A sterner look, and Tipt Scale then return’d
To her tale. “Anyway, I could not fail

Him in his case. And yet, I later learn’d
That he show’d no regret for what he earn’d
As a con-pony. I could not keep this
A secret, not where my task is concern’d.

I let that fatal fact slip past – the bliss
Of speaking right came over me, t’ dismiss
My fears. But they came back in greater force,
When you spake right to me. I was remiss,

Apparently, when I spoke thus. Of course,
I could not see your logic, when so coarse
Your speaking was to me. As Princess Mine,
You’d ev’ry right, but I was not a horse

To be so taken lightly.” “O you whine
E’en now, for speaking much without a sign
Of thought,” said Luna. “But here’s some advice
You needed long before: if you’d resign

Before you took this case, you’d leave a nice
Legacy right behind. Shall I say it twice?
I hope you understand what I’ve told you.”
The law-mare shook with anger, as if ice

Had crept along her spine. “You take the view
That truth alone prevails. Have you a clue
That maybe that works not all times? Perhaps
You ought t’ ignore your mother, see right through

Her shortsightedness, and decide sans lapse
In judgment how t’ proceed.” “Your speaking slap
Me ’cross the face – ” “As it ought, O law-mare.
Did you not heed what I had said? What scraps

Of wisdom do you know?” “I did not care
For what you said, and if I rightly dare,
I would accuse you of misconduct.” “What!”
“Indeed, My Liege, such accusation’s rare,

But rightly wrought e’en so. If you would shut
Your mouth and listen, you would see merit
In purest honesty – to be so blunt –
That nothing leav’s room for immediate – ”

“Which does not change the fact that your client
Would have far’d better if you were absent
From court that night!” she thunder’d. The walls shook
With her voice, threatening to break th’ ancient

Hut. Then again the baker spoke up. “Look –
It seems perhaps you, Tipt Scale, well mistook
The Princess’s intent with malice, so
You took her words as disapproval.” “Took

Her words as – I would never!” What a blow
To her façade! “I realize long ago
I may have err’d, but what else could I do
When Princess Luna disapprov’d?” “You know

I stand before you, yes?” The law-mare knew
She had no further answer for her view
To uphold. Thus, she sigh’d, and spoke again.
“I only speak the truth, but e’en so, you

Discourage me from doing so. This pain
Has blinded me for so long; to contain
My rage consum’d my life and time, and thus
I’m left without the things I need t’ sustain

My mission.” “Honesty is quite the plus,
But only in some moderation. Fuss
O’er nought; if only you had seen the wrong
In your words and acts, you’d not be anxious

Right now.” A crimson hue had crept along
The law-mare’s cheeks – a flaming heat so strong
Reminded her of her humility:
It seems her mother’s words would not belong

In setting where it benefited she
To hold the truth back from her. So angry
She was at herself now; she could have won
If she had kept her mouth shut. “I soon will see

You leave,” she told the princess, “but I’ve one
Request remaining: if my fault’s not done,
Then I wish to come and amend my loss.”
“I do regret, but that amounts to none;

This tirade you have wrought can never cross
You to Equestria back, for from the doss
We both have come, and cannot bring a third
Along with us – for, I ask, what chaos

Could that cause to our home?” Such harsh word
Was felt by e’en the baker – as she heard,
There was no hope, redemption, left for her.
Despair came o’er her, as her vision blurr’d

From fresh-sprung tears. “So,” said she, “as it were,
I’m stuck here evermore. What an answer
To my sins of before. I now regret
It fully, far too late.” A hoof would stir

To indicate the door. “You cannot get
Much more from me. I’ll never pay my debt
Enough, but solitude is penance right
For me. I would not see this as a threat,

But invitation rather, so you’d fight
Your further way to where both of you might
Want to be.” Then she spoke not e’er again,
And Luna took the cue to leave her sight.

“What oddities we’ve seen, what tales of pain
We’ve heard,” the baker would remark. “Abstain
From further talk,” said Luna. “We shall go
To th’ mountain; pray we never ascertain

Another pony in our sight.” Although
The law-mare was still fresh, he mustn’t show
Reluctance, not so soon again, when last
He did, they ended up in quite a throe

Of pathos. Shaking his head, he would cast
His cloak’s hood off, to show himself the vast
Expanse ahead of them. That mountain-peak
Was so far off, and yet they’ve travel’d fast

Across the rolling hills of sand, to seek
A glimmer slight of hope. No sight so weak
As other glints can stray him from his way
Again, that much he told himself. A week

Before, with Shade’s Corruption, such delay
Would cause him to collapse. Until that day
By chance he met the Princess of the Moon,
He thought he’d never scramble, get away

From symptoms such as those – but now, as soon
As he met her, he felt alive again, in tune
Wi’ th’ world around him. In he deeply breath’d,
And took in fresher air sans sand which strewn

Across the vastness. Luna, seem’d reliev’d
That he had sense, e’en with his head unsheath’d
From his cloak, which expos’d him to the air
Where sunlight brightly shone, and hot sand wreath’d

Around their faces, but he did not care
About this nuisance. As the two would fare
Along this leg of their long-winded quest,
He wonder’d – just who would they meet, whose lair

Would they encounter next? At the behest
O’ th’ princess of the moon, he would not test
Those ponies for their motives, for the lot
Could not accompany them at all – lest

They would claim it for themselv’s, as they ought
To do. Her sister’s words to him had taught
Of doubt, but not despair – a dose of doubt
To see past lies that they might tell. He thought

The worst one was the gryphon – from his snout
His words were empty as his maw, and out
In the air his speech all meant even less.
How lucky they both were, to get a route

From him, one they could well rely – unless
It too was wrong. Still, Glister could impress
Another with his tale fantastic yet,
E’en if it was false. If he had to guess,

The part about the gryphons’ wartime debt
Could not be possible – they would not let
A war break out, if they could well avoid,
And did avoid at ev’ry cost and fret.

Besid’s, he could know not a time deploy’d
The Royal Guard t’ defend. He had enjoy’d
A time of peace within his village quaint;
There was not threat that it would be destroy’d

At all. He too assum’d that she’d acquaint
Herself with peace as well. Without restraint,
It’d be a diff’rent story for them all.
She’d embrace peace, but noöne was a saint

Those days, it seem’d. Within that marble hall
She’d sit, or sister would, to hear the call
Of cyclic day and night to come and go,
And to hear grievances that would appall

A lesser pony than them. “Would you know
Another law-mare like her? Could you show
How crazy it could get?” “You wish to see
What I am put through, ’fore daylight would show

I’ th’ morn?” “Indeed!” the baker said with glee.
“Forsooth, not ev’ry pony can walk free,
Unlike that stallion Tipt Scale tried t’ defend.
Tell me those from the law they could not flee.”

“Perhaps I shall, if only to contend
That not all that I do has such good end.
This tale concerns a pony I once saw
Accus’d of murder – sans way to amend

His crime. He bragged so, to shock and awe.
According to the letter of the law,
I took it as confession, and told him
That he stood on thin ice. His fatal flaw

Came not long after. O, his face grew grim
When he saw chances of his life were slim.
Eventually, I sentenc’d him to die –
’Tis not a thing I hand down on a whim,

Mind you. We strung him up when sun was high,
And there he dangl’d from the top o’ th’ sky.
The dead can never be brought back to life,
But he’ll rest with regret he can’t deny.”

“Amazing,” said Honeycomb. “Not well rife
With fight within him, was there?” “That old strife
To live and not to die could not be found
Within him, nay. Not one bit – E’en his wife

Could not detect the fire that is abound
In all of us.” “As he rots in the ground,
I stand e’er grateful for your services,
E’en if they’re carried out without a sound.”

The princess nodded, but the bays was his,
She felt, but spoke aloud not. This would quiz
Him for a moment, ’fore he turn’d right back
To th’ path ahead. He focused, for his

Salvation laid somewhere before him. Crack!
His lower spine had stiffen’d up, and slack
Had set it firmly in its aching place.
A single twist, and the relief would wrack

The rest of his form. He kept on a pace
So quick yet steady, taking out the space
Betwixt him and the mountain. Before long,
He’d reach it – he just knew it! On that chase –

“Perhaps,” she would interrupt, “you’re not wrong
About perspectives. What would go along
The inside of his mind? I wish I’d look
Before I sentenc’d him – it must belong

To someplace dark and evil, long forsook
By pony-magic. Seeing that once shook
Me to my core; I’d rather not again
Observe or e’en experience what may cook

Within such twisted dreams. But then, his brain
May not be swaid – how could I tell? The pain
Of never knowing burns so hot in me.
O well, what’s done is done; I’ll never gain

The satisfaction of an answer.” “See?
Th’ acceptance of th’ inevitable’s key
T’ tranquility. I can accept a loss
When no way other can present to see.”

“’Tis easy f’ you to say,” she said. “Across
My land and reign, I’ve seen the verdant moss
Of time creep ’round the marble figurines – 
That peat of time will eat away at th’ gloss

Of once was new. I’ve seen the countless scenes
Unfold like this – each time, nopony cleans
Th’ resulting decay, ’til it falls to time
At last. I pray you never have the means

To see those things yourself, to know the rhyme
Of coming ruin you can’t stop. The rime
In memory will set the scenes in stone,
So you will always know them in their prime,

Which only makes the loss you bear alone
That much worse.” “Memory is truly prone
T’ encasing better thoughts, so here is one:
As th’ bodies turn from flesh and fur to bone,

It gives rise to new life. Never done,
Not in finality, but death has spun
The world that we have come to know and love.
Weep not for th’ lost, their struggles’ won,

But cherish th’ precious gifts from on above.”
“That does ease me,” said Luna, “to know of
Those things they leave for us, both big and small,
And here and further, from the peaceful dove

To th’ crops that the earth-ponies harvest, all
Has been descended from that protocol.
It pains us all at first, but later yields
The treasures bountiful for each to haul.

Each second autumn moon, out in the fields
One finds the tireless farmers – one who wields
The scythe, another baskets, t’ separate
The grain from chaff – whilst clouded-o’er sky shields

Them from the coming cold.” “I’d truly hate
To interrupt, O Princess Mine – ” Too late
For further word – another storm of sand
Was baring down on them. “O how I hate

These things to happen!” Luna cried out, and
She pull’d her cloak back o’er her head. The land
Had turn’d to chaos once again; the walk
Slow’d to a crawl, and slower still t’ a stand.

“Can you see in this?” call’d she. What a shock
When no reply came to her! Simple talk
Would never work here; she would greatly need
Her magic – tap in the cerebral lock,

And send her words into his mind – he’d heed
Her words so clearly. Once she did the deed,
She found him bounding over through a gust
Of sand, and stuck by her side, as agreed.

She would assure the both of them the dust
Would settle soon, and pray that this land must
Not cause another storm like this again.
Of course, such musings she could never trust

To come to fruition. She should refrain
From pointless prayers, lest the land abstain
From peace for them and all the others too.
’Twas though the land heard. How could she explain

Another way? The sand had bloct her view
O’ th’ path; she hopt that they’d not go askew
Of their eventual destination, for
What troubles could they happen by? A hue

Of red above show’d th’ sun, and nothing more
Could e’er be seen. She duct her head, before
A wayward stone could strike her in the head.
It mist the baker. She could not ignore

These dangers anymore – she could be dead
Without a further warning. She had pled
Aloud, almost, to no suppos’d avail.
She carefully made her way up ahead,

And watcht with leery eyes, so without fail
They’d dodge such sim’lar dangers. Hail –
Nay, larger stones came flying forth, to prove
The capabilities o’ th’ storm. Her veil

Prov’d ineffective ’gainst. She’d not remove,
However, as it did protect their move
Through sand ablow within the wind – unless
More pressing matters came upon t’ disprove,

Then she would risk her eyes for her head, yes.
But dangers these did not present – no stress
O’er the imagin’d hazards; they’d go on
All th’ same. In his mind, Luna would confess

That she fear’d for her life – though sudden yawn
Would force him to dismiss her claim. Begone!
She thought, though he could clearly hear her yell.
We’ve travel’d who knows how long we’ve been gone,

But we shall nonetheless move forth. To quell
Her lethargy, she let the stone shrapnel
Strike her ’long her body. It forc’d her wake –
It’d help her travel forth, and help her well.
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At this point, Luna well prefer’d to bake
I’ th’ sun before the storm. She could forsake
The blazing heat, so long as winds died down.
As long as they blew, their lives were at stake.

As for the baker, nothing in his town
Compar’d to this calamity. The brown
Scene calm’d his mind each and every day,
So seeing the same blowing made him frown,

Annoy’d. He hopt that the storm would not stay
For long, for who know what sort of delay
It would have caus’d them both, what would accrue
In front o’ th’ two? They would get none, he’d pray.

Be. Sand would start to sink, as winds’d ensue
With waning strength, until they could hear new
Sounds, voices without Luna’s magic spell.
He breath’d a sigh – this peace was well past due.

“So tell me,” Luna said, “did you hear well
The thoughts I sent to you before this fell
In place?” “I did,” he said. “Despite the land’s
Efforts, I heard your regal voice quite well.

Let’s hope this never once again demands
To pass.” “And yonder, there the mountain stands
To taunt us, coming close, yet we’re not there
With us. Can you see just how far ’texpands

Before us?” “Yes, I can – it does not care
For any one of us or others. Where
Did your dear sister get such grand design?”
“I know now.” Luna shook her head. “We fare

With total lack of sight – no chart or sign
Can point to us the way. I’d not resign
So soon; nay, we’ll not err – we’ve come this far;
We’ll not leave with hoov’s empty. I’d decline

Rest’s offer each time. Think of just how far
We’ve come – why, nothing ever us can bar
From our well-earned goal. Now come and see
What things our vim and effort cannot mar.”

He took her words to heart; with newfound glee,
He bounded ’long the sinking ground. This spree
Would last for but a moment, ’fore he saw
A second twinkle, like before. “But she

Had warn’d us of those dangers – but in awe
I find myself – ” She seiz’d him by the jaw,
And brought him to her face. “Do not relent
At such a vital time, mind not the draw

Of such a fascinating light.” She went
Ahead of him, and he, so discontent
With curiosity unsatisfied,
Would grumble and follow her, his vim spent

Before he could expend it. How he tried
To find it in himself, but it’d abide
Him not. Perhaps it was all for the best;
The last thing he would need is t’ go inside

Where other dangers may reside. A guest
He may be, t’ hear their tale, but on this quest
A delay would cost them time they could spare
N’ at all. She would not let him take a rest,

Not after talking to that one law-mare.
He doft his hood, and to the drying air
He let his head be open. Cooler breeze
Would clear his mind, and soon he would not care

About such shiny things he’d find with ease.
From out of nought at all, as if to tease
Them, there was water running ’long the ground,
Afront them, freshly-sprung. “If it would please

My Liege, I think it best t’ stop where we found
This stream, and drink our fill. I see around
Us nary threat, of storm or heat or brute.”
“We shall – I’d rather not want t’ see you drown’d

In your ambition.” He became then mute
As he knelt and drank in the liquid loot.
O how he needed this! It truly beat
The swelt’ring, suff’ring summer absolute.

“I must drink too,” she said. “This horrid heat
Has slow’d me too. I think it quite the feat
That we e’en made it this far.” Sans a word,
She knelt and drank the liquor cool and sweet.

The baker popt his head, which incurr’d
A comment from her. “Think you it absurd
That this land can in fact provide for us?”
Honeycomb shook his head. “Well, I have heard

Of tricks it can play on the others, plus
I had safeguarded – let’s not make a fuss
O’er what ambitions it may have, for they
May be beyond our understanding. Thus,

We’ll take what we may, question not the day
That shin’s eternal. It could block our way
If we doubt what it does.” Thus, Luna said,
“This magic I can’t fathom – who’s to say

It has a power o’er us? In my head
I cannot see at all why we should dread
The curses it can send to me and you.
I think it mad!” This argument soon led

To sandclouds gath’ring up ahead. The view
O’ th’ sun would start to blur into a blue.
Then Luna sigh’d. “Perhaps you may be right,”
She would concede – and soon the storm would, too.

“So now we know for sure this land can fight
Us if it chooses to, or even smite
Us. Let us not dwell on this gloomy thought.”
Resolved so, the princess of the night

Would pick herself back up, just as she ought,
And orient herself back where she wrought
Their path before. And soon Honeycomb would
Rejoin her, having had his fill. She sought

The blessings of the land, some change of good
Instead of bad, as was before. It should
Have heard, but it decided not t’ avail
What they would want – perhaps their cloak and hood

Not falling into pieces in the hail
Was all it’d muster. So along the trail
They’d have to make do with what they could get
From Providence – but they knew they’d prevail

Within due time. Before she could forget,
She hoped that it would incur no debt
To seek such favors from the cursed land.
But she could not see such signs – so why fret

About the things she can control not, and
Invite more trouble, hind’ring them, to stand
Them still? A slight sound, like the call of bird,
They notic’d overhead. Across this band

They did expect no life, and yet they heard
Its sign. A single hawk was what had stirr’d
The silence, just to show them on their way
Upon their quest, or so it seem’d – forward.

They both would take its heed. “We must not stay
For long here,” said she. “This eternal day
Shall not grow short, not now, not e’er at all.”
Then he would take the lead, without delay,

And she for once would trail behind. Its call
Show’d them where they need to go. There stood tall
The walls o’ a vale to their right. “There, perhaps,
We could save us some time, unless we fall

Into some complex trap,” he said. “A lapse
Severe like that must mean your mind’s collapse.
I see it’s safe, as to its structure. Come;
It will not fall upon us.” “Many maps

Have chang’d from such collapses of stone; some
Are weary still of taking troublesome
Routes like these. I am not amongst those fools,
To bear in mind.” “Quite well,” said Luna. Numb

Her hooves had grown beneath the sand; such tools
So strong for walking now show’d where their rules
Would stop. He, too, with his strength, here
May falter sans a word. None of them were mules,

Meant to bear longer journeys, heavy gear
Upon their backs. “Don’t tell me that your fear
Will hold you back from there,” Honeycomb said.
“’Tis not,” said Luna. “It’s just that the sheer

Endurance we display may make us shed
Unneeded blood from our hooves as we tread
Sans end.” The baker had to laugh. “Of course!
You can take to the sky, if you have need

To save your precious legs from such a coarse
Fate.” Well, she never thought, as flying horse,
She could avoid all this from high i’ th’ sky.
“But then,” she said, “you cannot find recourse

From me if I were t’ spread my wings to fly.
So I’ll stay here, upon the ground, and try
To suffer though the pain together – yes?”
He said, “I hope you did not tell a lie

Just now.” “Of course not!” Luna said, “unless
You wish to leave you be – I must confess,
I also find your talk and sight quite nice,
So leaving you to fend alone would stress

Me to no end.” “As you insist; don’t tell me twice –
Our home, of course, needs not your sacrifice.”
“O soft! my guide, there’s nary any need
For drama outside th’ theater.” This advice

Would stay his tongue, and force him on to lead
Her through the desert-vale at fullest speed.
He said t’ himself, “I pray I do not find
A second hazard on my way.” “Indeed,”

Said she, “I find myself in that same bind
As well, so do not fret. This land in kind
May clear your path – you’ve seen it happen, too!
So keep these blessings clear within your mind,

And we’ll survive.” As they tread on, a few
Rocks tumbl’d down fro’ th’ top o’ th’ cliffs – a clue
To him of things to come, things he’d not like.
Still, Luna would save him if such were due.

Although, as he went right along this hike,
He found all four of his hooves hurt alike.
He praid for rest, as he once had before.
Then suddenly, he thought he felt a spike

Drive through his leg. He gave a shout, too sure
He wounded himself. Then he lookt – no more
Was it there; it was all within his brain.
The princess shook her head – she could ignore

Such cramps like his. “I think I have a sprain,”
He said, however. “I’d hate to complain,
But I cannot move forward on this limb.
O Princess Mine, shall you relieve my pain?”

“My guide,” she said, “there’s no need to be grim.”
And with her magic, she grabb’d and plac’d him
Upon her back. “In fact, I have a plan!”
She spread her wings, as though like seraphim,

And took to skies above. How far the span
Would reach amaz’d him greatly. They both ran
Across the wasteland, when in point of fact
She could have carri’d him aloft! “I can

Not do this all the time,” she said. “The act
Of lifting so much ballast is in fact
A burden I wish not on another.”
“E’en so,” Honeycomb shouted, “you have pact

A great deal of strength. In fact, as it were,
You make the distance pass by in a blur.
We’ll set my ankle once we’re on the ground –
I’m in your debt, as your guide forever!”

And as she carri’d through the sky, she found
He weigh’d not quite as much, which would astound
Her just a bit. Still, she’d adjust her load
Upon her back whist she was onward-bound

To unknown place beyond her sight. Th’ air flow’d
So gently ’round her wings – and then she slow’d,
To seek out where she’d land to help him heal,
And came across – what she thought – an abode.

“Shall we touch down right there?” she askt. “I feel
It would be best,” Honeycomb said, “t’ appeal
With who may live there first, see if he would
Help us, and if all goes well, strike a deal.”

“A sound idea,” Luna said. “We could
Seek out a place to rest there, for this hood
Does itch me even now. Do we agree?”
The baker said, “I think it rather good

As well, so let us now descend and see
If our luck changes for the better.” She
Soon started their descent, gliding in loop
To slow herself down, making safe for he.

Forthwith when she landed, her wings would droop
And fold away to their sides; down she’d stoop
To let a hurt Honeycomb off her back.
Painstakingly, with magic she would scoop

His ankle, twisting it just so. A crack!
And he could stand again. Taken aback
By his relief tremendous, he thankt her
And pointed out. “We’ll see to yonder shack

And pray that better luck lies there for sure.”
She nodded so – the wind had clean’d their fur,
So they would look presentable for which
May live there. Luna then said, “On the spur

O’ th’ moment – I hope we would not bewitch
The resident.” “I’m glad I have no itch
Of sand, at least.” He started forward, and
He peer’d inside a doorless entry, which

Perplext him so. “Good day!” he call’d – the sand
Would only answer his words – he’d demand
A verbal cue, but gave a chance to hear
What th’ other may tell him. But there he’d stand

Unsatisfied. The princess said, “O dear;
I hope this place is not abandon’d.” Sheer
Luck would grant them an answer: “Good day there.
I see you try to find, but do not fear

Where this voice echoes.” There stood a plain mare,
Her patter matching th’ walls of her home. “Where
Do you hail from?” Her words did not come out
From her mouth. “I see you have found my lair.

Do come inside; it’s very lonely hereäbout.”
The princess took her offer. “’Tis about
Time we would found respite from drouth,” she said.
Despite her mood, she found it hard to shout

Amid her presence. She said, “Go ahead,
Find yourself a seat.” “Why’s it in my head?”
The baker fin’lly askt. “Is it not right?”
The mare would tilt her head. “I could instead

Speak aloud, but it would prove to be quite
Unbearable.” The princess of the night
Objected, “This is not so; speak your mind,
And we shall judge you if ’tis dull or bright.”

“But I will not,” she thought. “’Tis much malign’d –
As sun does shine, I will have you both find
Me inoffensive.” “O I must inquire:
What things about you may offend in kind?”

“A great amount of things,” she thought. Much shyer
She turn’d then, keeping her eyes by the fire
O’ th’ sun. Her coat would shift with ev’ry move,
Which made her nigh invisible. “No liar

She is, I reckon,” said Honeycomb. “Prove
You meant your words at least.” “It would behoove
You,” Luna said, “to heed his sound advice.”
“But nay,” she thought, “I sooner would remove

Myself from this place.” “Soft! ’tis really nice
To hear you speak aloud, if you entice
With your mind-voice.” Her head she shook.
She said, “My reasoning is most precise.”

“Another tale, I see?” he askt. “O look,
Now you’ve made him curious! A book
We’d fill with stories, yet he thirsts for more.”
“You’d find mine int’resting,” she thought. She took

A seat in front of them upon the floor
Of sand, unblinking eyes that surely swore
Some unknown, secret, surreptitious deed.
She thought, “You may have seen my lack of door;

This too is why. A silent life I’d lead
Before I came to this land – not of greed
Or vice, but keeping books for public use.
My name is Codex; now shall you take heed?”

“I do suppose,” she said. “We’ve no excuse
To back out now – to do so is a ruse
Beneath us.” Then the mare would start her tale:
“I pray I do not prove to be obtuse:

Once long ago, a place nam’d Piny Shale
Was where I liv’d. The folk there I would hail
With ev’ry passing moment, yet they’d not
Return in kind my gesture. Such a veil

So thin of mere civility was wrought
From keeping to themselv’s, but I had ought
To keep my courage up. Yet day and day
Went by, and still those problematic lot

Would cause me only endless trouble. – Nay,
I would not give up, ’fore you ask me. They,
It seem’d, just needed kinder temp’rament.
And so, my attitude could never stay –

Instead, you’ll find I sought to be pleasant,
In ev’ry part of my life – my accent
Would become neutral, as you now may find;
My gestures wholly absent, my vim spent,

And too my pattern’d fur would be align’d
Wi’ th’ background where I stood. I was confin’d
Most days within my library, to seek
Whatever information they would mind.

One day, a solider waltzed in, to peek
And see what I was doing. I was meek
E’en then, and he soon left me to stew there.
‘I’d bother not,’ he told. ‘She’s very weak,

N’ at all a threat.’ I could not stand to bear
His testimony, but I would not dare
To set my progress back, not quite so soon.
Of my weakness I was all too aware,

But I maskt that with altruism, hewn
From deep within my heart. I’d change my tune
If it prov’d necessary, and e’en then
I’d further ease myself into a tune

Of inoffensiveness, as though a wren
Aflight away fro’ th’ nest. I counted ten
Such instances where I’d myself adjust.
Each time, it prov’d effective. One day, when

I heard my door creak open on the rust,
There stood a pony I’ve not seen nor trust.
He introduc’d himself as Bolt-from-Blue,
And askt if I had records ’neath the dust

On Piny Shale’s weather. He told me, “You
Have well maintain’d this library, for few
Are willing t’ do your duties quite the same.
Ifever these documents are to view,

I trust you’ve kept them all pristine.” This game
He plaid I did not know. And yet, his name
Suggested weather-duties, so I went
And got him what he wanted. He became

Irate at once – apparently he spent
Several months to study such event.
He chew’d me out for my apparent fault;
For such anomaly, he would resent

The messenger. I never saw th’ assault
To come – I was surpris’d that he would halt
When th’ guard would come to see again.
With nought more, he was thrown into the vault.

And yet, he brought me unbearable pain –
Were it not for him, I would have been slain
In th’ place where I workt – I was grateful so!
But soon I learn’d that I had nought to gain

From this deed he did for me – although
He sav’d my life, it turn’d out I’d not show
To him – I faded in the ambience.
He merely heard the shouting from the snow

Outside, and what he saw he took offense.
I askt him if he truly was that dense;
He answer’d not – as though I did not ask
At all. And fin’lly I dropt all pretense

Of silence and politeness – for my task
Was to be kind, but this workt not? The mask
Of false-wrought hospitality flew out
In but a moment, as though a tight cask

Imprisoning me fell with just a shout.
It left him with a heavy-ling’ring doubt
As to my character – was I too kind?
I doubt I was, but it left him without

His sanity at such a time. Combin’d
With my own reputation, I would find
That some measure of firmness was needed
If one were to assert himself. My bind,

However, was I had no vim, which led
To further grievance. But I would instead
Contain my feelings further. So it went –
Carefully, then, across the ground I tread,

And I spoke ever quiet more. I spent
My hours alone, but this would not repent
For what I’ve done back then. I’d speak my words
For those who car’d to hear, but never vent

My angst and grief. It seems to you backwards,
But I know this as virtue true, as birds
Would sing i’ th’ sky above both you and I.
And more than that, it helpt me stand the herds

Of ponies in my town – O how they’d lie
And cheat and steal without a reason why,
It seem’d to me. I never would follow
There foul example; I would ne’er apply

Their teachings to my life. I’d sooner go
To Tartarus! Besides that, who would know
What other temptations I’d encounter,
How else I’d fail myself, if I did so?”

Her voice stopt coming, as if in a blur
Her mind was clouded. Neither one would stir
In case she’d think again. Then Luna spake,
“Pray tell, why stay in the town where your fur

Was sight not welcome? Why did you not make
Your way to better home? Make no mistake,
I know a journey like this is no game –
But if such chance presented, would you take?”

“I surely wouldn’t,” Codex said. “The same
Could be said where I would have went. Don’t blame
Yourself for coming to that logic’s end –
I would have done that too. Why, just my name

Is boring enough. Changing it would rend
Me something else, a thing I’d not intend.
I’m sure you could see truth within my speech.”
“I must say,” Luna said, “I must commend

You – keeping kindness up, and not to preach
It loudly ev’ry day for all and each
To hear. But still, to take it t’ such extreme
Is rather toxic to you. I beseech,

Why did you take it so far?” “It would seem
That kindness had no limits – its esteem
Would carry me for all my life, protect
Me from the dangers of the world – a dream

I wish you could have seen; alas, respect
Is never born of kindness mine unchect.
I see that now, exil’d from my home
Beyond this land. I would not dare reject

What brought the treasur’d peace amid the tome.
But here I am, alone in this land t’ roam
For all of time, it seems. I am quite pleas’d
To see you here – ” “Your words are nought but foam,”

Said Luna. “They before may have appeas’d
The townsfolk, but I’ve heard the same words breez’d
Through my ears in my court. How can you shift
My judgment if you can’t – ” And Codex sneez’d.

The voice she made was rough and coarse; a rift
So wide between her head and throat. A gift
She once may have had, but has since been lost.
She lookt up at the princess. “You seem mift,”

She thought. “What seems to bother you?” “Accost
Us not,” she answer’d. “You would just exhaust
Yourself, as you had quite well done before.
Your temper’s true, but this came at the cost

Of boldness – quite the opposite, a chore
To you, hence so long, but ’tmeans so much more
Than I describe.” “How so?” “It would appear
That, when the ponies of your town you’d bore,

The last thing you should do is deny cheer.
And yet, that’s just the thing you did. Now here,
You learn that ugly truth. Learn this to heart:
That kindness solves not all – is this clear?”

“I do suppose,” said Codex. “’Tis an art
I’ve studied all my life, and yet ’tis smart
Not t’ practice all the time. I wish I saw
That sooner.” Codex droopt her head. “My part

Has failed me, I see. That was the flaw
That kept me from the ponies.” “Yet no law
Can punish you,” said Luna. “And so thus
You have t’ amend this by yourself. A raw

Deal it may be; this is alone yours. Plus,
We cannot stay for very long.” A fuss
She would have caus’d, but Luna stopt her first.
“Soft,” she told her, “you may have caus’d a muss,

But this fault, to me, is far from the worst
I’ve ever seen. I have high hope for th’ curst
Of this land – that includ’s you. Now stand tall
And sound your voice, instead of thoughts in burst.”

She nodded. “Yes, I speak again.” Her call
Was hoarse, as they’d expect, but that was all
They should fear from her. “I am in your debt,
Somehow.” “Speak not of that,” he said. “’Tis small

What we have done, compar’d to what you’ve let
Occur yourself. Be proud that you don’t fret
O’er ev’ry little detail as before
Under a most imaginary threat.”

“And yet,” spake Codex, her voice growing more
Clear by the moment, “you find it a chore
To travel through this land, I would believe.
’Tis not as quick as ’twas in days of yore.

To aid you, I must ask – where do you leave?
And when you get there, what will you achieve?”
“A simple task,” said Luna. “There beyond – ”
She pointed thus – “we both plan to receive

A chance to save ourselv’s.” And then it dawn’d
Upon the other mare. She would respond,
“I must know more about your noble quest!
Need you a guide? A chart? I’m rather fond

Of mapping out th’ unknown myself!” Imprest
She was sans remedy. “I’d not have guest
Another way! I so desire the same
Myself, but I can be your humble guest

As well! So tell me more, what is your aim,
And methods too? I vow you not to shame
Along the way!” But Luna wav’d a limb
To stop her newfound speech. “I cannot claim

We’d bring you with us. I’m content with him
To guide me through this cursed land – his vim
Had kept my spirits up this time entire.”
Upon these words did Codex grow e’er grim.

“I hopt for passage out – for my desire
To join familiars kept me rooted. Dire
My sudden circumstances now become.
But I’ll let you leave now, lest you grow ire

And chances of escape become a crumb.”
She never spoke again, a dismal sum
Of Princess Luna’s teachings impromptu.
But they’d respect her words, however dumb

They may have sounded, and they’d leave her to
Her own devices. As they slipt right through
The doorway, Luna turn’d to th’ baker, said
“I hope that was the worst,” but she well knew

The worst was yet to come – and in his head,
Honeycomb saw as much, which gave him dread.
And thus she would resolve herself to lead
Him to the mountain top. No tear they’d shed

For those they’ve lost along the way; they’d heed
Her sister’s warning – that they’d sorely need
To head off dangers all around them. They
Would have to fix, until they may be freed,

Attention past the others. “There!” Away
From them, the baker pointed out a stray
White cloth. “Was that before there?” she would ask.
“I do not know,” he said. “But if we may,

I think it useful for our lofty task.”
He walkt to it, and caught. The cloth would mask
On th’ other side a symbol they’ve not seen
Before or since: a hippo-gryph would bask

Against aquatic backdrop, with a sheen
Of silver. “I know not what that would mean,”
Confest the princess. “But if none demand
It for himself, no reason for this scene,

I say we keep it for ourselv’s. The sand
And heat are merciless against us, and
We’ll need whatever fortune we can get.”
The baker nodded. “But we have not plann’d

For this, have we? We’ll take it without debt.
Imagine if this tapestry got wet –
We’d travel cooler that way, don’t you see?”
But Luna had no words; she would not let

This land to spoil her new-found luck, for she
Had had enough disasters to last three
Lives. Yet he made her see the brighter side
Of what may come to them – unbridl’d glee

To match misfortune, Luna’s steadfast guide
Would never be defeated – this land tried
Whatever trick it could imagine, quite as well!
Be they on hoof, or even as she flied

Through skies so open, she could clearly tell
Determination wins o’er all – t’ excel
Is simple, e’en in th’ face of awful chance.
– If only she knew this before she fell.

Well, no time better than now, so her stance
Was. She knew coming trouble at a glance,
Where he did not – she hopt for such a lack,
For she had not much magic happenstance.

The baker tied the banner on his back
T’ secure it firmly for the trip. A crack
Along his spine again, and they were off
To where they ought to go. Outside her shack,

Besides the mountain, there was nought. To scoff
Would be in reason, but they would not doff
Their plan so soon, regardless of how rough
The journey would get for them. She would cough

Sans warning. “Methinks she was dull enough
To dry me out,” she told him. “’Twas quite rough
On me as we,” replied he. “Never thought
It’d be so literal. I’d call the bluff,

But thus far, we’ve encounter’d stranger, wrought
By magic we detect or e’en know not.
But even so, we’ll see this journey through.
Now come!” He indicated th’ way. They fought

The storms of sand, and sights that were not true,
As well as dragon, gryphon, changeling too.
What other dangers lie here i’ th’ land? We
Would see soon ’nough, she thought. And so the two

Would wander through unknown lands, to see
A thing that possibly might not well be.
They’d still refuse t’ abandon hope, in face
Of mounting odds that drifted ever wee.

To their relief, they’ve only met one race
Once they left Sark’e in her rightful place.
Instead, they found the manifestations
Of things we hold in value great, embrace

As our way of life. These gallant actions
Were forth propell’d by notion, by the tons
Of ponies who relied nightly upon the moon.
She’d never met them, but she knew those ones

Existed somewhere in Equestria. Soon
They’d be back there with them, their comfort hewn
From that familiar place. For now, howe’er,
They need to focus here, and note the dune

That came upon their path. But this time, there
Was a solution – Luna took to th’ air
With him upon her back, as had before.
She let it crash down, for she did not care –

It would not hinder them at all. A chore
The flight was, so she then set down once more
Once it was clear’d. The baker thankt her well,
For he could not have liv’d through that, he swore.
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seem’d the further on they went, they fell
In more with sand and dust – what else could dwell
Amid such drought? Too true, they met those who
Could stand the heat. They noted quite a smell

They could not place, but they’d dismiss it too.
Perhaps it was a part of here – who knew
Its inner works? They would have to deduce
Those for themselv’s. The princess also flew

Quite a long way, and had not one excuse
To keep on flying, not when she’d reduce
Her capability right down to nought.
Try as she might to keep up, ’tis no use,

For her guide weigh’d too much for her. She ought
To keep to th’ ground, as Providence had taught
Her weaknesses. She shook her head, and went
Along with him, to’ place that both them sought

By sister’s order. Yet where they were sent
Was still so far away – she wanted t’ vent,
But knew much better. Last that she would want
Would be to drive him off, or to torment

Him with her grievances. This land would taunt
Her with such promises that it would flaunt
And take away without a second guess.
And yet the baker would stay nonchalant;

Perhaps he grew too us’d to torments, stress,
And fortune ill from times before – unless
He told her how he persever’d, he’d take
His secret to the grave at life’s end. “Yes,”

He said aloud, “I think we’ll sooner make
It to the moutain-top, if we awake
The spirits of this land, who might impart
Assistance t’ us. We ask not for a lake

Or e’en a lift straight up, but just the heart
To make the journey safely there.” How smart,
She thought, he was to ask so little for
Provisioning. Perhaps if I depart

This land, I’d learn to ask for little more
Myself. But does he think his words could pour
Across this land for it to hear him speak?
“I have to ask,” she said – “are you well sure

You can trust it to point us to the peak?”
“Why should I not?” he shot back. “If you seek
Its favors, then you’ll be blest with the best
It can offer. This quest need not be bleak,

You know!” She knew, but who knew how the rest
O’ th’ walk would go? So far, she never guest
She’d find so many others on their way,
To distract them – O how she wanted t’ rest

Without a soul to nag them on! This day
Eternal beated down so hard, and they
Were weary almost beyond words. But no,
They would not stop so soon, not when their stay

Here might be permanent. It went to show
That, when their lives are on the line, they’d throw
Their diff’rences behind them. “This I see,”
Said Luna. “Now, how much more do we go?”

Honeycomb shrugg’d, which made her think that he
Might not be quite as bright as he could be.
Regardless, he got her this far; she can’t
Complain too much about these issues wee.

The baker call’d out to the wind, “We shan’t
Fail now, not when we’re ever closer. Grant
Us strength to break through obstacles that stop
Us otherwise.” It did not hear his rant,

Apparently, for that one mountain top
Did not move closer to them. They could hop
Up just a hoof or two, but come back down
Achieving nought at all. And worse, the drop

Meant sinking more into the sand, to drown
In something hot beneath their hoov’s. A frown
Would furrow on her face, but she would dare
To persevere, with her guide and her crown.

So send them storms and creatures! They’d not care
At all, when something so important there
Would wait for them, and only them to come.
And yet, as though it acted on a dare,

A twister sprung from right behind. For some
Odd reason, maybe none at all, too numb
They prov’d to be, upon its dreadful sight,
As though they cared not at all. How dumb!

It did not matter anyway, for right
Before it came to them, it would make flight
Away from them. They did not notice this,
Nor that they fled from this imagin’d plight.

Forsooth, perhaps they would not be remiss
T’ ignore them as they come, but just dismiss
The lot as temporary folly. Thus,
Their ignorance would bring them subtle bliss.

No matter how this land could cause a fuss,
They learn’d not to acknowledge those things – plus,
They knew, eventually, it would provide
Relief – whenever they would come. A muss

She notic’d of her mane – and so she pried
A bit of magic through the locks, and tried
T’ untangle them, without too much success.
She sigh’d, slid her hood back, and with her guide

She kept a steady pace. Had she to guess,
It was a natural effect, unless
The cloak had done that messing to her mane.
(It did look better that way, she’d confess.)

As for Honeycomb, he had not that pain
Himself – he must not care, or such he’d feign.
Why stew over a minor detail, though?
They’d bigger issues in their minds to strain!

But still, they could not always worry so –
How tiresome and how dull the trip would grow!
The walk between where they were and where they
Have ought to be had still so much to go.

Deliverance atop the point, she’d pray,
And that she and he were not here to stay.
This heat was most unbearable, and sand
Would itch them – did she see the mountain sway?

Perhaps it was another trick o’ th’ land
That plaid its dazzling sights upon her, and
They were no closer to there than before.
That seem’d more likely to her – nothing grand

Had happen’d to them right then, that she swore
T’ herself. But was that true? This sealess shore
Held many revelations for the two.
It would be most unwise for them t’ ignore

These warning signs of danger – for these two
Had seen the consequences of those few
Disasters they had seen along so far –
What others wait for them? O if they knew –

But they’d discover soon enough the mar
That rubb’d o’er them and others. From afar
The effect was apparent not, but when
They took a closer look, well – how bizarre!

And still, the mountain sneer’d at them – but then
They’d get to th’ top, regardless of how its ken
Stretcht out. This challenge was not worthy of
Their ridicule; they’d conquer so – amen!

She lookt to the clear sky, and saw above
A bird amid its flight – was it a dove?
Perhaps it was, and it was gliding further out
To where they could well see a sight they love.

“Does water flow there too?” “I’d likely doubt
Such fortune, but – ” she pointed with her snout –
“It does mean, where we are, it can lead us
To where we need to go. Its liquid route

We follow in reverse, against it – plus,
We are in danger nary longer. Thus,
I make it our imperative to go
Along its path. Our passage has no fuss!”

The baker understood what that would show –
“But still,” he askt, “what dangers must we know?”
“Beyond those you found in Equestria hence,
There’s nary in that way – you’ll see it flow

Unbroken ’long the way; it’d not make sense
For smoother flow if obstacles so dense
Were plac’d amid the river.” “So I see,”
Honeycomb said. “What’d be the consequence

If we found something that must make us flee
Fro th’ flow?” “We’ll fight it off,” she said with glee.
“We’ve put too much into this journey now;
We cannot let a simple thing stop. Me,

I have my magic; it would not allow
A single threat to pass us by.” “But how
Would magic help us in this sand and heat?”
“That’s also why we travel like the scow.”

The baker nodded, and he dipt in sweet
Water to cool himself. “O what a treat
This is!” he said aloud. He took his cloak
Off his back, and submerg’d until a sheet

Of water flow’d above his head. “To soak
Is plenty well for you and I,” she spoke,
“But do not leave your cloak behind. This stream
Will not forever last – this is no joke.”

Honeycomb could not see what she would scheme,
But took her words well anyway. He’d deem
This sound advice – for who knows what they’d find
Along the way? His theories grew extreme,

But he’d dismiss them all the same. His mind
Felt like ’twas scatter’d ’cross this land – behind,
In front, and all around. The water’d chill
His head, and focus him again in kind.

“And should this stream dry up?” he askt. “What will
We do about it? Eh?” “My magic skill
Can hold our waters longer, but we’d ought
To hasten our trip even more, until

We’d reach our destination. Thus, we’ll trot
Without a blockage.” Yet such things be wrought
Sans warning by this land. How could I tell
Before I would encounter them? she thought.

She saw a gleam within the stream, which fell
Her eyes upon a nearby hilltop. Well,
Who was she to deny her own regard?
She’d push against the flow to see who’d dwell

Upon that hill; the baker saw it, hard
Against the brightness of the sky, unmarr’d
By sand or other landish elements.
“O Princess Mine!” he call’d. “Have you a shard

Of sense still to your name? Such an instance
Of folly need not be attended. Once
We stray fro’ th’ path, it just might disappear!”
“I’ll know if such shall pass, if such absence

Will impact us.” Then Luna stept sans fear
Fro’ th’ water, kicking off loose drops to smear
Along her fur. The baker trail’d behind
Reluctantly, but not before he’d veer

The banner in the water. “I would find
Its liquid to be nice, if you don’t mind.”
She nodded her head so. “I don’t see why
You cannot do that, but do not be blind

T’ your cloak.” “Of course,” he said. “I’d never try
T’ abandon you for something like this.” Dry
The banner would not be for quite a while,
Or so he hop’d. The hilltop was nearby

From where they were, a mere few yards – a pile
Of harden’d sand – amid the stream, an isle
So dry. And there, he could see something, bare
I’ th’ elements of heat and sand. A smile –

But why? It must be mis’rable o’er there!
Then why such jollity? Why would he care
About this? Then he lookt, and saw that she
Bore on her face the same exact joy’s flair.

“Why do we grin?” she askt. “I cannot see
What humors us. Is it something to flee?”
“I do not know, but we must caution so.”
He tread so lightly, weary of the glee

That plag’d them both. So far as they could know,
No danger threaten’d them, not one that’d show
So suddenly. The baker train’d his eyes
Upon th’ horizon; Luna too, also

Upon their own surroundings. She’d advise
Him of the same, but she would be more wise
Not to distract him from their current work.
Would this be yet another trick, t’ disguise

A thing more cruel than they could think to lurk?
“At least there’s nary in the way of murk –
We clearly can see where I saw that sight,”
She said through her involuntary smirk.

And when the glare of that dreadful sunlight
Would clear away fro’ th’ hilltop, they saw quite
A sight ridiculous. There sat a fool,
One Luna never saw before at night.

“She must be causing our amusement’s rule
Upon our faces,” said he. Quite the tool
Indeed, if jollity was her intent.
“I never thought how humor could be cruel – ”

“But here we are,” said Luna. “I’d repent
Whatever you regret, for if you vent
Your troubles to her, you might set her off.”
“I see,” he said. “Unless we truly meant

Offense, I reckon we’ll be fine.” A cough,
As sand would go into his throat – a quaff
Of water solv’d that problem. “Now then, how
Do we approach the fool? I should not doff

My soaking cloak or banner too right now.”
“With me here,” said she, “I’m sure she’d allow
Th’ attire.” She made the few steps left to see
The pony. “We hail you, then – could you endow

Us with your name?” To her surprise great, she
Leapt to her hoov’s, as though were so free.
“I’m Minute Mirth, and glad to see you two!”
She said this with no small amount of glee.

“I see one tawny, and another blue –
You look like Princess Luna; how ’bout you?”
Her voice spill’d like the nectar, sweet and fast,
And they had trouble keeping up. “So few

Had met me here, I thought myself acast
Away in timeless loneliness. The past
Seem’d less real to me with each passing day.
But now I meet you two here – quite th’ contrast

To th’ current circumstances. Sans delay,
We’ll celebrate our newfound friendship!” “Nay,”
Said Luna, “we are on important task.
We haven’t got the time to stop and play,

Regrettably.” The fool droopt down, to bask
In renewed sadness. “But I have to ask – ”
She perkt up in an instant – “can you tell
About how you came to this place? Your mask

Says quite a bit about you – where you dwell,
And what you do, and all before you fell
Into this desolation.” “Yes indeed, it should!”
Her vigor inexhaustible, she’d spell

An epic all her own. “And yet, I should
Warn you – my story isn’t always good.
I’d hate to disappoint – ” “We’ve heard the same
From other beings in this land; we could

Withstand a bit of sadness.” “If your aim,”
Said Minute Mirth, “is sadness, as you claim,
Then I would like to disappoint. I shy
Away from misery; it brings me shame

If I don’t spread my jollity.” “But why?”
Askt Luna. “Why must you spread joy from nigh?
Not ev’rything in life needs to be great.”
To which the fool would instantly reply,

“My tale discusses of my dismal fate
From when I fail’d just once. I’d truly hate
To see you frown; I’ve worked hard to show
A smile upon your faces.” “That bears weight,”

The baker said, “but I say, even so,
You should tell anyway. You never know
If joy could be born from discover’d grief.”
The fool star’d at him – then she said, “Although

You speak of such a truth, I must be brief:
The tale I tell you is beyond belief.”
“As were so many others – yet we pray:
Could you, for only us, turn o’er new leaf

And speak of sadness?” Came th’ reply then, “Nay,
’Tis most unbearable! You should away
Before you tempt me down that path of glum.
I say to you, there’s nought that I could say

That grants you or me happiness.” “But come
Now, there’s no reason for your speaking thrum.
I’ll tell you what: if you indeed make us
Frown at your words, you can cheer us up some

With yet another tale.” The fool said, “Thus
I will begin! I’ll tell you sadness, plus
I would not go back on my word of joy.
So gather ’round, with nary further fuss!”

The two were seated, her beside th’ envoy.
The fool began, “I hope I don’t annoy
Again, but I will start off with the sad.
And yet, all th’ same, I hope you will enjoy

The words I speak to you.” We would be glad
If you got on with it, she thought. We’ve had
T’ traverse such territory difficult.
Then Minute Mirth clear’d her throat. “So, nomad,

You wish to know what I had done, consult
With me about my life? Then such result
Shall come to you. This tale starts long i’ th’ past,
When I was born, t’ a clan that would exult

Each little event. But this would not last
For all my life – as long as my mind’s cast
A shadow, I’ve not known a time in youth
Where I knew endless pain. That time slipt fast

Before I knew, and I’d soon learn the truth
Once I learn’d to become an unknown sleuth:
So few were ever happy, quite like me.
I took it on myself to change, forsooth.

At first, my strategy was t’ let them see
The natural joys of the world. But we
Had nary in that way, so I’d’ve t’ go
So far beyond my home, from shining sea

To still-wild forest, bringing what I’d know
To spark that feeling coveted. That throe
Was worth it in the end, for they would find
Amusement in what little I could show.

But I wisht to see e’en more, in my mind –
My people was not nigh enough. My bind,
However, was I could not eas’ly leave
My ponies and my town I love behind –

For if I did, they’d lose what I believe,
But if I could – O what I could achieve!
And so I settl’d – I would leave a note
Before I’d set off in the later eve

To rid the world of misery. I wrote
It quickly, making sure that I would quote
Another who had made the trip as well.
I left it in the open, and I’d float

Along Equestria ever since. To tell
Of my success would not come now. I fell
More times than I could care to count;
Although I could not conjure up a spell

Like th’ mages that would roam. On my account,
One even bested me to a viscount.
I did not mind at all – at least my tries
Gave him some joy in life, as I recount.

But that was just a highlight, I realize.
As I would roam beneath the bluer skies,
I would encounter much the same success
Without intent – but still, that was my prize,

And I’d accept it all the same – unless
I would deserve it not at all, I guess.
Regardless, there was jollity to spread
Throughout the land – and then I found distress

Within the heart of Everfree. My head
Would search for answers, and my heart would dread
And terrify that none could e’er be found.
This filly lost her mother, nearly shed

A tear – but I would not allow! I bound
Her back to town, and ralli’d up a sound
Search party, seeking out the one she lost.
Alas, when we discover’d she had drown’d

I’ th’ river, I was heartbroken. The cost
Of time seem’d far too great for such star-crost
Fate. I could never cheer her up again,
And trust me when I say I did exhaust

Each method in so doing – for the pain
Of losing one she lov’d the most would drain
Her of her vim. I gave up after some
Time, and left her town, where she would remain.

I’d focus more upon my craft – such glum
Would not survive for long; this’d be the sum
Of my skill. I vow’d to return one day
And try again with newfound tricks for numb!

And so I went about the land, to stay
A few days’ time, and show to them my way
Of jollity, which never fail’d to show
A grin upon their visages. And they

Would beg me to remain, but I said ‘No’
Each time – why should I stay in one spot? So
They’d have to come to me? Nay, I would not
Be bound to just a single place! I’d go

To other ponies, much to see what wrought
Their own depression too, what things they’ve fought
To stay alive, and show them brighter time.
In fifteen years of doing so, I’ve brought

Such joys without a fail. I had a chime
I knew would stick, and so into the rime
I’d disappear again one day, and made
My way to Everfree. In springtime’s prime,

I would arrive, and found the town i’ th’ shade
To be much chang’d. I found her, as a maid
To greater wealth. And when I askt to see
Her, they replied, ‘My dear, I am afraid

She does not want to see you. You would flee
Her at the slightest whim, upon a spree
Across Equestria, when she needed most
Of all your presence. You had left her – she

Would not forget this, nor would she play host
To other who might do the same.’ ‘Almost
Everything I’ve tried,’ I had fir’d back,
‘Yet none would yield a smile – the innermost

Expression of one’s joy.’ ‘Perhaps th’ attack
Upon her soul had left her weak. Your knack
Could not identify this, so you ran
Away.’ But nay! I’d not accept this smack!

But they were not quite done. ‘What was your plan,
In any case? That you’d return fro’ th’ span
Of all this land, to plan another try?
Don’t be ridiculous!’ And they began

To laugh, but that was one I would not pry
From other ponies. I swore, by the sky
Above, I’d try as they forbade me so.
As night fell later, I would happen by

A hole within their wall of stone. It’d go
From out by th’ road, into their garden – though
Past that was rather well-kept by their guard,
But if I stuck to th’ shadows – who would know?

I fit my head inside, and found it hard
To get the rest of me through to the yard.
But I kept trying, and I would succeed.
I nearly cut myself upon a shard

Of glass left on the ground where I had kneed.
I lookt about for their guard – and indeed,
He stood where he could see th’ entire place
Without obstruction. He would not take heed

Where I was, and I’d ascertain. The space
’Twixt him and I would vary by his pace,
But I kept to the dark, and out of sight.
I slipt right past the guard, and left no trace

Of where I was before. And in that night
He would n’ at all suspect that something might
Be wrong. I quickly found her quarters, then
I’d waited ’til your sister’s morning light

Would shine and wake the household. I’ th’ den
Where she slept each night, I awaited when
She’d wake as well. And when she did, she found
Me by her side, as was before i’ th’ fen.

She seem’d most terrified, but made no sound,
To my relief. With noöne else around,
I introduc’d myself to her again.
But to my great surprise, she would expound

How I had penetrated where she lain
For sleep. In hindsight, they’d to me explain
That she’d not want to see me, and I saw
The reason why. But it’d not be in vain,

Or so I vow’d. She threaten’d t’ call the law
Upon me, but I clamped shut her maw
And begg’d her for forgiveness. Yet she’d give
Me none, for that and other things. I’d thaw

Her mood, but it would freeze. I could not live
Without amends to be made, yet t’ forgive
Was much beyond her. I left later, and
I’d not return to her, for such motive

Was absent from me. Thankfully, their band
Of guards did not see me go ’cross their land
And out the hole i’ th’ wall, with noöne t’ see.
I would admit that nothing went as plann’d,

But I’d surrender not. For now, I’d flee
From her, and replan my approach. To me,
It seem’d that something needed to be done
To gain her trust again. What could it be?

What have I done to her? Why would she shun?
Did something happen after I had run?
What else could it have been? No matter what,
I’d find the reason, and make her see fun.

I put upon a more confident strut
To cover up what I had done there, but
They discovered my ruse, and so
I swiftly was captured, and then shut

Away i’ th’ cell, where I would rot and grow
Bor’d with my situation. I’d not go
About the land again – I fell asleep
One night, and woke up here. Would you two know

What happen’d then?” She paus’d – but not a peep
Erupted from the other two. “I’ll keep
You waiting not at all – say what you think!”
“What I think,” Luna said, “is nought to weep

O’er pointless folly quite like you. The pink
Skies of the morning last not long – they wink
Out from sight just as soon as they arrive
As nary more than just a moment’s blink.

Of course, she needed help, and you would strive
To give it to her, but she could not thrive
From it alone. She had t’ move on, alone.
You did the best thing for her, to deprive.”

“But how could such thing be?” she askt. “I’ve known
How weary sadness makes a pony, prone
To feelings that would drive him mad. How must
Old I accept that on my very own?”

“’Tis simple,” said she. “You ought to put trust
I’ th’ fact that ponies cannot really just
Push past their sadness. Nothing you can do
Can change this fact; ’tis as sure as the dust

That does surround us even now.” “And too,”
The baker added, “I’ve had just a few
Tragedies in my time. And as each came,
I sprung right back – and I know so can you.”

But Minute Mirth just sigh’d. “I think it lame
That I could never master my own aim.
’Tis as if you could never raise the moon!”
“Some nights, I can’t,” said Luna. “All the same,

My sister would take over for me. Soon
The job’d be done, in any case; the tune
O’ th’ heavens shall go uninterrupted,
From noon to night, and once again to noon.

If you cannot learn this, then we must rid
Ourselv’s from this place. You cannot forbid
The sadness for its sister – they exist
Together in a balance. – If you’ve hid

From solemness for all your life,” she hist,
“Then it again comes, but you can’t resist
Its much-enhanc’d effects. It has to come
And go, and nought you can do can consist

A treatment for the thing.” “Well, that was some
Tale,” said Honeycomb. “What would be the sum
Of it, in any case?” “I just can’t stand
The awful feelings,” Minute Mirth said. “Glum

And sullenness had plagu’d my life – now, sand
Dominat’s ev’rything around me, and
I cannot find a way back home. Pray tell,
Do either you have something like that plann’d?”

“I’m sorry,” Luna said, “we cannot dwell
On such a task, if we are burden’d well;
We also wander though this cursed place.
I do know this – it cannot use a spell,

Nor would I know as much.” “Then why keep pace
If you have nowhere left to go, My Grace?”
“Perhaps we’ll find an answer, in due time.
Now come, Honeycomb – our time left shall race

Away before our eyes!” The baker heard her rhyme,
And got upon his hoov’s. And she said, “I’m
Quite sorry I’d not lift your spirits high!
I’ll try again, if you return fro’ th’ climb!”

“How did she know our bearing?” “’Tis a lie,”
She said, “as far as she can know. The sky
And sun shall light our way up to the top;
The stream will cool our hides whilst we shall try.

We’ve nary more to need, so why we stop
Again?” “Who knows? There could exist a drop
That we’d not know before, or e’en a chart
That’d point us up a shorter way, to lop

Some time from our trip.” “There’s no need, apart
From rest perhaps, to halt advancing. ’Tis an art
Alone to climb a mountain to its peak.
But do not yet surrender – bear your heart

To th’ elements, and face them whilst we seek
Our goal.” The waters parted in the creek
To their stride, as they travel’d up its flow.
And high above them, the mountain’s mystique

Train’d focus on their vision. Who would know
What wonders liv’d above, what hazards t’ show
As well? They only need to climb to view
Them for themselv’s. Perhaps the storms’d not blow

Them off the path, but who could say for true?
The sand staid calm along the banks – a clue
Tranquility for them was here to stay,
A fact so blatant, even Luna knew

It to be right. But for how long would they
Be safe? A number of things might delay
E’en more than they could plan for on their trip.
This land could try, she thought, but I say nay,

It won’t succeed in stopping us – a grip
Of iron she had upon her mind; she’d rip
Their prize from out its grasp, if that need be.
A splash came from a forceful step, to drip

Its water off her naked hide – so free
She felt, without the stifling cloth from knee
To head along her form. And too, she saw
The baker lik’d his soaking banner – he

Would find it also cool; perhaps the raw
Flow o’ water made a better sweat. In awe
He found himself, apparently, at how
He needn’t suffer in the heat, as was the law

Of this land. They’d not run to trouble now,
She hop’d. So far, this wasteland would endow
Them with the chaos of a storm, or turn
To wetter pastures, such as this. She’d vow

Not t’ anger it, lest she and he would learn
Its fuller wrath. She wonder’d if they’d burn
In greater heat, or simply swept away
Inside a sandstorm. How could this she earn?

Regardless, she’d not addle her mind. They
Would make it to the destination, way
Up in the heights, come storm or sun or heat;
No matter what came, they would never stray!
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As good as it to her would feel to cheat,
The lunar princess would not dare repeat
Th’ events that happen’d where the two had found
The fool nam’d Minute Mirth – for there, they’d greet

But just a sodden mare, who sought to ground
Herself in happiness, and never frown’d
At all. O blimey, all this! Yet she knew
She cop’d the best of all. Her mind was sound,

If addl’d with her joy – she’d never stew
In rage or sadness. This method would do
Her well, she reason’d. Yet we must move on;
We’ll dwell not on the faces we accrue

Upon our travels – lest we see it gone,
Our prize, when we both reach the top thereon.
She halted her thoughts, so she’d focus out
Upon their path of water. With a yawn,

The baker show’d his own fatigue, about
Two miles along the current. “’Tis a bout
Of my fatigue, and not much more,” she said
To him. “We’ll rest when we finish our route.”

“I hope you’re right, for both our sakes – my head
Does start to ache me, oddly. If instead
We stop to rest, it might subside.” “But nay,
We’ve not much in the way of time! Ahead

Of us, who knows what we might find? To say
Would be uncertain, e’en for me. To stray
Would be bad, certainly, but beyond that,
What other obstacles might make us stay

Our steps?” The baker had no answer, at
Least, none that’d quench her mind. A caveat
Not spoken told him such was futile, so
He kept his peace. She knew this thing begat

No answer fair or right to her to show.
As they tread on, their pacing grew e’er slow.
“Are we a’ th’ base o’ th’ mountain?” he would ask.
“Nay, I’m afraid not,” answer’d she. “For though

This path does lead up, there beyond, our task
Is not yet done. So I say, do not bask
Yet in success – we’ve got a long way yet.”
The baker grumbl’d, yet he still would mask

His haste so great. Here, with his fur so wet,
And water more to drink, he could not fret
About the heat – but other problems show’d
When he stept in the stream – an unknown threat

From otherwise a gift – a liquid road –
This land could soon extract what debt they ow’d.
He hop’d ’twas little, a thing they both had;
And furthermore, would they find an abode

Again? He praid not. Luna had forbad
Such wand’rings, yet he found it bad
Not t’ listen to what others had to tell,
What tales of life before here – O how sad

He felt so suddenly! As if he fell
In melancholy – just another spell,
Perhaps of Minute Mirth’s. But how could she
Affect him far away? She could not yell

Such distance, nor could he hear, nor could see
(Not since he turn’d the corner). E’en so, he
Could tell that something unknown was not right.
Should he tell her? What might her answer be?

To his surprise, she could tell by his sight
What he might be considering. So bright
His mystified look was, she had t’ inquire
About it. “Why do you fret now? What plight

Have you within your mind? Be not a liar;
I know your tells.” The baker said, “I tire
Still, even now. I fret about what could
Occur ahead of us, what might conspire

When so much happen’d to us so far. Should
I worry quite so much?” “I think it good
To try to see ahead, but not too far;
For things could change at once, as this land would.”

Honeycomb nodded, and pusht on. “On par
Wi’ th’ rest of your deep wisdom. ’Tis bizarre
Indeed to try to counter blocks unknown
To us.” He took a breath to calm. “And are

You certain I have sooth’d?” she askt. “You’re prone
To such thoughts, as I’ve come to know. Alone,
You might not long survive here; you could die,
And thus be lost t’ Equestria.” Luna’s tone

Took colder edge, as though she must not lie
About this situation. “By the sky
Above, I will not lose you – this I swear
To you!” She may have sounded cut and dry,

But she meant ev’ry bit, despite no flair.
She stumbl’d, fell i’ th’ drink. No worse for wear,
She simply took it as a blessing, and
She kept on tramping. He call’d, “Over there!”

And pointed with a hoof. Through clouds of sand
And dust, they saw an iridescent band,
Alight with all the hues we see so clear.
“The light shin’s through the water – ’cross this land

This thing is seen!” cried Luna. “And yet, here,
You’d stop t’ observe? My Liege, I truly fear
You do not take your words yourself.” But too,
He’d stop t’ admire the sight. “We must be near

A waterfall,” said Luna. “To get through,
We may have to embank and walk.” She knew
Such places were most dangerous to those
Who’d not respect them as was fully due.

“How further much is it?” he askt. “Who knows?”
She would reply. “This fog would not disclose
Where it might be. But we can rightly guess
That th’ mountain-base draws near.” “And so it goes,”

He told himself, and upped again. “Unless
She has a better plan, I should not stress
About the stream.” And suddenly he slipt
Upon a loosen’d rock. She heard distress

Erupt from his lips, turn’d to look – she skipt
A beat within her heart. She quickly ript
Him from the water in her magic, saw
That he was fine. He said, “I merely tript,

But thank you for your watchful eye. By law,
I’m in your debt.” But Luna just said, “Pshaw!
What I have done would warrant none. Now come –
If you’re quite done watching that thing in awe,

As I am, we’ve not much to waste.” How glum
I must have sounded, thought she. With a hum
So soft he couldn’t hear, she took the way
Upstream, upon extremities so numb.

She glanced up to see if there would play
The water off th’ edge of a cliff. But nay,
There was apparently none – just as well;
The mountain was still quite far off away.

Such theory ran too wild; she had t’ dispel
It from her mind. She watcht the water swell
Around her legs, conforming to her stride
As she went on with him. To speak of – well,

His mood was sour, that much he could not hide.
Apparently that rainbow, to her guide,
Might well have been a thing he’d not seen ’fore,
And likely not e’er since. Thus, Luna’s pride

Took quite a hit. She wisht she could not bore
Him on the trip, but thus far, on this shore
Without a sea, they’ve seen so many that
They’ve lost uncountable time. Any more

And they could fail! Her hoof came down hard. Splat!
The baker fin’lly notic’d her mood. “What begat
Your anger?” askt he. “’Tis nought,” she’d reply.
“I only thought to keep you focust at

Our most important task.” “I don’t see why
We can’t admire the scenery on by,”
He said. “I’m sure you’ve seen that color’d band,
But that to me was new.” She gave a sigh –

Just as I fear’d, she thought. “Perhaps the sand
Might yield surprises much more precious, and
Should we see, we’ll stop to enjoy the sight.”
The baker gave a smile. She thought, How grand!

I’ve fixt his sight on th’ goal again. The height
Could well distract him from it, so I might
Need to take flight with him upon my back,
As had before. The Princess of the Night

Was powerful, but not all so. She’d lack
The tem’rament a mage might have, the knack
The wizard has as well. But just as she
Would more assess herself, his voice would wrack

Her mind. “Look yonder there – such sight to see!”
He pointed with a soaking hoof, and she
Was most amaz’d. There was a wooden craft,
Decay’d so much from disuse far from sea.

“Should we investigate?” “’Tis not a raft
We can bring eas’ly,” Luna said. A draft
Of wind came from the right, which chill’d her skin
And made her shiver. The same came from aft.

“I should think not, but we can build, begin
To sail upstream. I have this banner in
My grasp; we can use th’ wind and not be chill’d.”
She would admit, “I do suppose we’d win

A simpler way, but even if we build
A raft to take us, I am not so skill’d
In navigation nautical. Are you?”
“I might not be,” he said, “but I’d be thrill’d

To try it anyway.” The princess blue
Could see that this might not end well. Who knew
How well his craft was, if it could hold tight,
What hazards he’d by error run into?

But she would sigh, and let him go. He might
Surprise her, this was true, but she’d be quite
Delusional if she’d ignore the thought
That it might never sail beyond her sight

Where she stood then. She noted that the rot
Along its beams was all throughout, and frought
With useless curves from sand adrift i’ th’ wind.
If he could manage, how would it be wrought?

Which said nought of where it stood. It was pinn’d
In banks of sand – so far away, it sinn’d
By simply not being right on the bank.
If they should push, it would have greatly thinn’d

I’ th’ sand before they reach the water, sank
As soon as it would enter. To be frank,
This soon became a most atrocious aim;
So bad it was, in fact, she’d bet her flank

That it would not survive the trip, a game
She knew she’d win. And even though he’d claim
To sail with glee, she wasn’t sure if he
Was competent enough. And much the same

Thoughts enter’d in her head, but she could see
That he was most determin’d. Maybe he
Was right, that this could absolutely work,
But she still had her reservations. “We

Are unsure rather,” said she, “what may lurk
Within the wreck.” An afterthought, a quirk
For sure, but one that held its water still,
Regardless of the water’s source or murk.

And yet, in her sight, all upon this hill
Was silent, never moving. Was this real?
She ponder’d. There, upon a wooden beam
That’d broken off, she found what would instill

Some curiosity in her. It’d seem
This place was still inhabited – a scheme
She could have seen quite easily, but said
Not anything. This necklace would still teem

With magic not known to her. She would tread
So lightly o’er to it – and with a shred
Of magic, she pluckt it from resting place
And lookt it over. It was shining red,

With pearly chain that wrapt around with grace
In patterns not unlike delicate lace.
Askt she, “Why is this here? What is it for?
Who does it belong to? What be the case?”

These questions four would yield no answer, nor
Would any voice invite itself before
Her. She was met with silence. Then he’d call
To her, “I found this statue. What a bore!”

She went to where his voice came, saw it all:
A statue of pure white, which stood so tall
As t’ tower over even her. She saw
A gap along its neck – ’twas rather small,

But did match th’ necklace that she found. In awe
She held it up, and saw it true. Her jaw
Swang open, but would shut itself soon aft.
It seem’d too right; there had to be a law

In logic that forbade her – yet she laught
At such prospective. Then she plac’d the craft
Around its neck, and watcht it glow so bright.
Some magic tendrils came out, which would waft

Through th’ air, before they wrapt themselves tight
Around the statue. In the crimson light,
The stone – or bone? – would crumble, giving way
To something she would not expect. It might

Still be alive! she realiz’d. She would stay
In front of it, enraptur’d by th’ display.
Then suddenly, it shatter’d, leaving what
She had not seen before or since that day.

She tried to speak up, but her mouth staid shut.
She tried t’ explain the sight – inadequate!
And then it lifted up its head, to see
The alicorn in front of the thing – But

It made no further movement. Instead, she
Would back away, before it spake: “From sea
To arid land – I know not why I’d not
Shift sooner to appropriate form. Me,

I do belong to th’ ocean-sea. You brought
My magic back to me. In fact, I ought
T’ reward you, but I’ve nary to my name
As ’tis.” She lookt her o’er. “You must have fought

The elements to get here.” “This became
The case, ’tis true,” spake Luna – then’d exclaim,
“But I’ve not seen your kind before! What are
You? Who are you?” She rais’d a fin. “The blame

Is mine – my true appearance seems bizarre,
For one who knows no Hippogryphs. From far
Away, we’ve not seen you before so soon.
So speak a name, and let us cause no war.”

“My name is Luna, Princess of the Moon –
I’ve rul’d Equestria with my sister, hewn
Our powers from the sky, as well as that
We call Harmony.” “A, is that your tune?

They call me Whale-Road. As a caveat,
My greater name extends to such point that
You’d pass out ’fore I’m done. In any case,
I keep the seas safe for the ships, so flat

And uneventful, leaving not a trace
Of danger them to fear. I know the place
As well as you the moon, it seems. Pray tell,
When last did you lose sailors to the chase

O’ th’ storm?” “Our pegasi maintain that well – ”
“But what of the sea? Can you not dispel
What dangers lie beneath? Do you e’en know
What might harm them?” She took a breath. “I dwell

Amongst these hazards – I could freely show
You just what may imperil them – although
We’re far from any sea, so do not mind.
In any case, I keep the status quo,

So you need not do this yourself. You’d find
The task to be quite difficult, inclin’d
To fighting you along the way. But I
Gave all myself to such a task, resign’d

To keeping all who sail safe. By the sky
Above, which you worship – ” she gave a sigh –
“The sea conjures tricks that you’ve not heard
Before, so please, consider me as your ally.”

“Quite well, then,” Luna said. “Another word –
What make you of this banner?” Thus, the third,
Who kept so silent, show’d what he had found –
And Whale-Road drew a breath. “’Tis quite absurd

That you’ve recover’d!” she exclaim’d. “On th’ ground,
No less,” Honeycomb said. “It was still sound,
Admittedly, and did me well t’ secure
The waters of the river.” To this, she frown’d.

“I’ve always wonder’d what became for sure
Of that rag,” Whale-Road spake. “It could assure
The water where ’tis needed, but not more
Than that. The symbol means nought, t’ reassure –

You may keep it yourself.” “I’m sure in store
You have a story why that is.” So sore
The alicorn’s head turn’d – but hey, why not?
They came out all this way, so why a roar

Of her frustration? It would be for nought.
“Indeed,” replied the hippogryph, “I’ve wrought
A tale of undivided loyalty.
Perhaps you’ll hear?” He shook his head. “I thought

As much myself,” she said, “so let me see – ”
She paus’d herself, to let her thoughts flow free.
“It started long ago, before I came
Into this desolation. You’ll agree

Quite readily that any sailor’s aim
Is t’ cross the ocean-sea. He’d pray it tame
To make the trip less perilous. But nay,
It does not always end as such. This game

Of cat-and-mouse continu’s through the day
And night. And thus, we Hippogryphs would sway
Conditions such that they can pass with calm.
You’ve known us never, that much I can say.

In any case, we workt to quell the qualm
That sailors often have, and let them come
Into port without drama. I now recount
A tale particular, of that ship from

Equestria. She was, by ev’ry account,
A ship I envi’d so. ’Twas paramount
I lead it to the gryphon’s land, their stone.
I’ve kept it safe as such, and by my count

Five storms, twelve waves rogue, and one alone
Iceberg would dare oppose. I kept a zone
Twelve hundred paces ’round the merchant ship,
Who I learn’d was Serenity. Her own

Crew kept in mind her sails, but not the slip
Of water ’neath their hoov’s. I gave this tip:
Mind both the sky and sea, as they both are
Important to them, lest they lose their grip

Upon control of their ship. There, the star,
Polaris, keeps them pointed staright, so far
As they concern’d, but what could truly steer
Them off the course? Serenity would mar

The sea, and it would mar her – in their fear,
They’d not consider letting it guide near
The shore, along the currents we would fare.
So many others, gone – ” She shed a tear

A’ th’ thought. “Regardless, none of them would care
When seas were calm, as though a simple prayer
Suffic’d t’ appease the water currents. Well,
The trip to Gryphonstone was sans fanfare –

’Twas coming home that trouble was. I’ll tell
You more, but heed this warning: if you fell
Within a maelstrom, you would know not to
Swim to the surface, lest you tire and spell

Your doom.” You fool! thought Luna. Why did you
Not realize what you’ve done? Had you a clue
As to escaping certain death? At least you can
Reflect here, ’live and well. “I’d travel through

The vortex, plucking out those who began
To slip beneath the water’s surface, ran
Them back to the Serenity, and once
They catch their air, they’d thank the ones who’d plan

Calamity for sparing them. What dunce
Would notice not the ones like me? Th’ absence
Would be felt instantly – but, anyway,
The whirlpool clear’d, as they crost the distance,

But then a lightning storm appear’d! By day
I’m sure the pegasi can clear without delay,
But this was night, and hard to see without
The intermittent flashes. Not a ray

Of hope remain’d for th’ crew; without a doubt
I’d have to stay with them, and see them out
Of danger’s way. I’d rock Serenity
Just so, to let the lookout fall sans shout.

And not a moment too soon – they would see
The lighting strike the mainmast. They would flee,
Of course, but I knew th’ lookout was secure.
Her sails were drawn within, and she was free

To float without direction. To be sure,
I knew the way back to port, which was mere
Days from the place. But I forgot that by
The bay was coral, strong and sharp. T’ ensure

Serenity did not e’en touch it, she’d to fly
Above, for steering meant she’d not come nigh
The bay, or to the storm. So I would lift
With all my strength, and then, with magic, try

To manage her whilst in the air. Her drift
Was stronger still, so I had to be swift
In moving her. And when I set her down,
I thought for sure the path was clear – a gift

To troubl’d ponies of the sea. The town
Was in clear sight, its lights a golden brown
To signal home. And yet, in wisdom’s lack,
Serenity had ran aground. A frown

That’d break her spirit crost my face – my knack
Of steering clear of danger had such slack
As to be ineffective! I would fail
Within my purpose! And so, on my back,

Where once before Serenity would sail,
I now would carry off her crew. The nail
Within her coffin was that her crew would
Regard these waters safely. On a shale

Rock I deposited them, yet they could
Not find their way to shore from there. I should
Have done more for them, but they might accuse
Me of their plight. To leave them there was good

Enough for me, but not them. I’d use
The tricks I knew to point, but they’d refuse
T’ abandon th’ safety of that well-found stone.
I shudder even now, t’ deliver news

Of ponies lost at sea, so close, alone
Without so much as raft. The winds had blown
All night, and too the storm would pass on through.
They hid from blinding rain and howling wind,

Though not too well. And then, I thought of you,
And how your moon controls the tides! So few
Have e’en consider’d the idea, yet
To me, ’twas worth a shot. The moon was new,

Which worked out splendidly (I’m in your debt
To this day)! I’d allow the storm to let
The waters whip up in a frenzy, and
To carry th’ ponies far away fro’ th’ threat.

Then they would be deposited on sand,
To see the storm brew in the moonlight. Grand
My tactics were, but in the process, they
Could see me as I was. But they’d not stand

A ‘monster of the sea’ like I! They’d pay
All kinds of misery to me; by day
I barely knew the difference, it and night.
And night came not long after. I’d not stay

Upon that beach for long – this sun, so bright,
Eventually woke me up here. I might
Still be upon that beach, but over here,
You see Serenity – O what a sight

For sore eyes she’d become! I’d curl up near
Where I now call’d my humble home. The sheer
Clime made it difficult for me t’ displace,
With scorching sun to see and wind to hear

And dry me out. I’ve seen others, to chase
Some folly that might please, at such a pace
As to make me think – why, in all this time,
Had they not broken free? What sort of grace

Had they to their names? Then one day – the clime
Makes it hard t’ tell – the last bit of my grime
Along my skin would dissipate, and thus
I turn’d to stone – a solid thing of lime

In shape of mine, to safeguard me here. Plus,
I seem’d to blend in from the sky; they’d muss
Me not at all. And yet, my shifting charm
Was lost from on my neck – O what a fuss

That was, if I could not return! No harm
Could come to me – no wind nor sandy swarm
Eroded ’way my form. I kept this way
For such long time – but you would raise alarm

When you came passing by! I would display
A flash of lightning in the fog, to say
To you and other that I’m here – ‘help, please!’
But you two would come, after some delay

Over some talk I could not hear with ease.”
“If you must know,” said Luna, “it was these:
We’re on our way upstream to th’ mountain-top,
And furthermore – ” and there she stopt to sneeze,

Turning her head away – but Whale-Road’d stop
Her train of thought. “That place there is no hop
From base to peak. I would think that you need
My help. And I’ll provide!” The gem would swap

Her fins for claws, and she could stand indeed.
She tore some beams loose, and with newfound speed
The hippogryph assembl’d them a raft.
“I pray it serv’s you well,” she said. “Agreed,”

Spake Luna, “but how shall we make it waft
Through water?” Whale-Road said to th’ baker, “Craft
A sail from that old banner that you’ve found.
It will be good to carry both.” A shaft

Was found nearby, deep in the sandy ground.
With Luna’s help, he fasten’d it quite sound
I’ th’ center of the raft. “And how shall we
Bring it to th’ river?” “I think you’ll surround

Yourself in the solution, no? You see
The sand here? See how you are slipping free?”
Well, Whale-Road had a point. She gave a shove,
And found it eas’ly slid. “So, we would ski

It to the bank, and go from there – I love
Such elegance.” He said, “By skies above,
I knew you’d not regret to come to here.
This answer you see fits us like a glove!

We can push it to th’ bank – ’tis just a mere
Few hundred yards from this!” Indeed, so clear
Her vision was, as th’ fog would dissipate
Before her eyes. She wonder’d how to steer,

But figur’d that the stream would not await
A tributary. Well, at any rate,
They had to be along their way. She bade
The two fair winds, and that the path was straight.

She lean’d into the makeshift craft, and made
Her way so slowly to the river, paid
No mind to obstacles that’d hinder her.
He’d join as well in pushing. “I’m afraid

This might not hold us both,” he confest. “Were
It any stronger, I might well further
Add any cargo we might find.” But this
Was useless folly, something they’d after

Abandon with it. She would hear the hiss
Of scrapwood on the sand, and would dismiss
Th’ assessment earlier about its strength.
If they had drifted, she would be remiss –

Since roaring river-water of such length
Was hard t’ avoid. It took th’ amount of strength
To get this from Serenity to where
They could continue further. O the wrength

She had when ’tenter’d water! It was rare
That she could confidently stand, yet there
She could, upon a makeshift board with sail.
Honeycomb came aboard as well. “I’d swear

It’d break apart,” spake Luna. “It would fail
Before it started on our way!” “The trail
Will speedily pass us,” the baker said.
“So worry not – let me not hear a wail

From you.” The sail was then unfurl’d, led
By cordage salvag’d from the ship. Instead
Of snapping, it held fast, and soon it would
Be sent forth blowing in the wind ahead.

She tapt her hoof upon the shoddy wood,
And found it sturdy, holding well as should.
She felt the wind behind her back, and saw
That she could leave her troubles back – for good,

She hop’d. She felt a groove, as though a claw
Had scratcht it earlier. She rubb’d it raw
With her hoof, and it soon would chip away.
She’d not let it be – as a natural law,

A loose bit like that e’en might display
A threat to her and him, so it’d not stay
Intact, not on her watch. She would say nought
On th’ matter to him, lest he lose the way

Again. The downhill current would have wrought
The other way, but the raft’s sail had taught
It otherwise, so the two could relax,
Admire the passing view, as the cloth caught

The wind within its folds – although it’d tax
The ropes of tensile strength, it was no axe
To them. “O why did we not do this ’fore?”
He askt. “’Tis simpler true, without drawbacks,

To sail along the river!” “What a chore
It was to bring it here,” she wanted more
To speak, but spake instead, “Indeed – by sky
Above, the trip now seems so grand!” The shore

Without a sea would well have to comply
With logic such as this. But it’d not shy
To add an obstacle, such as a rock
Amid the creek. The two would happen by

The difficulty in due time. It’d mock
Their progress, keeping out the ones who’d balk
At navigating water. “Do not fight
Me,” it seemed to say. “Get off and walk

Around me!” But the Princess of the Night
Had yet another thought – and with her might
She hoisted up the raft, as Whale-Road did,
And set it down again, without a slight

To th’ craft. Said she, “We found ourselv’s amid
A sudden uncertainty – now we’re rid
Of it. So let’s continue through the creek.”
Without another word, the two would bid

Farewell to curses thrown at them. The peak
Would wait, with patience without end, to seek
Their ultimate prize, long before it’d find
Its way into another’s hoov’s. She’d speak

No words, but he would understand the bind
They both were in. They travel’d upstream, blind
To what awaited them, whatever things
Might stop them once again. She hop’d they’d grind

Not on the riverbed, that these old strings
That fastly held the sail became not slings
Assailing her face. Still, there would come time
When that’d be so – although she had her wings.

“How further is the goal?” the baker’d chime.
“Well, with this raft,” she would reply, “the rhyme
Should be that that delay be worth the strain.
It’s still quite far away, but in the prime

Of wind, we’ll last long ’gainst the flow.” Her mane
Would be affected by the wind – it’d deign
To lose its magic lack of gravity.
But this was far from the first time – again,

The sandy winds had done a number; she
Would know the sand grains in her mane – and he
Would likely have the same. But then, he could
Rinse it out in the stream. And then with glee,

She punkt her head beneath the water. Good
It felt, upon her head. “I think you should
Not try that trick again,” he would oppose.
“O nonsense, baker – you look like you could

Use washing well yourself!” And in the throes
Beneath the wooden craft, she heard no woes
Of pain or shock – a moment later, they
Were back aboard the raft. His face flusht rose

Fro’ th’ sudden lack of heat. Without delay,
The two returned to the journey. Nay,
They would not stop at all – it’d be a crime –
Not when they had so much ahead to say.
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trip went faster on the raft – a prime
Cause for the stop back there. But then, the climb
Up th’ mountain may prove time-consuming, so
They’d need all th’ time they’d get. At any time,

Their goal might disappear – but then, they’d know
That noöne us’d before them; it would show!
But on these awful thoughts they should not dwell;
They’d make it there, no matter what the foe.

They had both speed and luxury as well,
Which others might well lack – what luck befell
These two, in such a far-off cursed waste?
As though fro’ th’ blue, the princess gave a yell

Of sudden fright as she lean’d it with haste
To starboard, dodging sharpen’d rocks, which trac’d
Along the ancient boards. “Are you all right?”
He askt her once it settl’d. She effac’d

The incident: “’Twas not a thing I might
Not overcome.” The Princess of the Night
Must not show her doubt, not in such a state.
“Come now,” he said, “forsooth, that was a fright

Indeed.” But Luna shook her head – too late
For her to speak of it. They would sail straight
Along the creek, sans him to press her on
About such folly then. At any rate,

It seem’d mere reflex that’d she yell – then gone
Was th’ problem, ’fore he realiz’d; th’ denouement
Would never come. He dipt his hoof into
The stream, to feel the rushing. With a yawn,

He’d pull it out again in boredom true.
This stream would stretch forever on; his view
Was blocked by the fog that laid ahead.
“Shall we arrive soon?” askt he – yet he knew

The answer would be “Nay” – and yet, she fed
His curiosity: “Not yet.” His head
Would swim with other talk, to break the calm,
Yet he would dare not shatter. In its stead,

He laid upon the boards to rest; no qualm
Would come to mind. She laid too; coming from
A life of chaos in the court, she’d use
Whatever chance to rest, as though a balm

Upon her weary soul she’d not refuse.
No matter how good it felt, she’d not snooze –
Not that she could; she found herself awake
At ev’ry time of day – such was the ruse

Of day eternal; they would have to make
Do with their lack of slumber, to forsake
Their nightly rest. “What is that?” asked he.
She did not hear him – this was a mistake.

Again, “Look on the bank – what’s this I see?”
She glanc’d upon the sandbank – terribly,
There was a skull, belong to a pony too.
She praid it was not someone she knew. She

Would cast her magic, bringing the skull through
The air to them. “I cannot tell it true,”
She said, “if this thing hail’d from near this stream.”
She held it up to look – and in her view,

A glimmer faint of piercing light would seem
To penetrate her eyes. As though a dream,
She shook her head, and lookt at it again.
But nay, it was still shining there! She’d deem

This odd, but she could sense a rather plain
Sensation in her gut – ’twas one of pain,
But much supprest, as though she could well bear
The tribulations she withstood. It’d wane

In but a moment. “Princess Mine, why stare
At such a thing?” he’d ask. “Why do you care
About this random skull?” But she’d not hear
His words for quite some time – they were just air

With noise to her. She felt it thinking – near
The shore, it found a slowness, then a veer
Into the rushing water, there to drown.
This thing was still alive, it would appear,

But how could she revive the dead? Right down
To th’ core within its bone – she felt a frown
Appear upon her face, but she would not
Abandon this so soon. Before her crown,

Her horn would light, and she would probe it. Fraught
With anguish, yet a thing would make it nought –
She took her magic off of it. The glow
Would not subside for just a moment. Ought

There be some more to this? What would it know?
What tales could be found? What more could it show?
Who did it once belong to? And more, where
Did it originate? So many thoughts, e’en though

She barely had the answer. Then he’d snare
Her focus once again. “If you would care
To hear me,” askt the baker, “Tell me why
You think the way you do. Why do you stare

At such unnerving artifacts? By sky
Above, I cannot help but wonder why
You would find morbid int’rest in the dead.”
But she’d reply with nought – instead, she’d try

To probe again within the head-case. Said
The baker, “I don’t think you can. Instead,
I say, just leave that back upon the bank,
And keep on sailing, as you’ve always pled

To me.” “Nay,” Luna said, “I must be frank:
I saw a thing I can’t describe. I’ th’ flank
I feel it now, there’s something more to this,
And when I find it, I’m sure you would thank

Me for th’ discovery; I’d be remiss
If I did not investigate.” “Princess,
With ev’ry bit of due respect, I plead,
Do not chase such a folly – we would miss

Our prize! There’s nothing more that we would need
Along our quest.” But he would not succeed
To sway her judgment – rather, she was lost
In peering deep within once more. Indeed,

She did not think he spake to her. She tost
Attention to th’ wind blowing, at the cost
Of angering the baker that much more.
“O Princess mine,” he said, “I’d hate t’ accost

You as such, but I verily implore – ”
His voice exploded – “why fix on this bore?”
She grabb’d the skull within her magic, held
It up to him, and show’d him where before

She saw the glint. And he saw too, which quell’d
His temper. “I do wonder what had fell’d
This pony,” said he. “I see not a wound
So far,” said Luna, “but I cannot meld

A spell to it – at least, I think.” Attun’d
With newfound int’rest, he found himself swoon’d
To solving this enigma. He would find
It lact a lower jaw; it had been prun’d

So long ago, he would not know I’ th’ mind
How to discover it. Perhaps he’d have to grind
A new one out of stone. Ask he, “If I
Fish something from the bed, perhaps you’d bind

It with your magic.” “What plan you to try?”
He pointed thusly, “Look where you apply
Your hoof to hold it up. Can you not see
He lacks a jawbone?” “Yes, but I ask, why

Do you care?” “If he has to talk, then we
Need grant him just the needed tool to free
His voice.” He lookt along the moving stream,
To try to find the proper piece. Then she

Would spot it first, and ’fore he made the scream,
She grabb’d it with her magic. It would seem
She made the proper call; this sandy stone
Was perfect for the job. And so, the team

Of two would carve away to make their own
Solution. They car’d not for just how prone
They were to error; long as th’ shape was right,
It’d work, he felt – and once the shape was shown

All over, he would fit it where the white
Met sandy dun. It was not sans a fight,
But just a touch of force would bring about
The skull completed. When the fit was tight,

To them, it clearly would provide no doubt
That this belong’d below the skull. Its snout
Was weather’d ’long the water, but it would
Not make a diff’rence, not when she would sprout

The spark and flame of life within. He could
Imagine going wrong – not that it should,
He hop’d. As she lit up her horn, he praid
That she would cast well, that her spell was good.

The bones would shift with sand, and sans the aid
Of Luna’s magic – why, her horn displaid
No flick’ring light, and she lookt mystified
As well as he. And yet, there they still staid,

To watch in awe as something unseen tried
To piece the stone and bone together, pried
Them back apart when they did not fit. Quite
A big surprise indeed, to her and guide!

And when the pieces fell in place just right,
The skull stood sturdy, bone and stone and might.
The baker lookt to th’ Princess of the Moon,
Who simply star’d right back, sans e’en a slight

Hint of a clue. He could not find a rune
Carv’d in the bone; nothing it had was hewn
From Luna’s magic. Plus, it did not shift
Once it was done adjusting itself. Soon,

A light would shine from out its eyes, adrift
I’ th’ wind, perhaps to prove its life. No rift
Would open on the deck, the baker saw;
Perhaps all that was needed was that gift

That Luna gave to it, against that law
Of magic bringing forth a life. The jaw
Swung open, yet no voice emerg’d, no sound
Was heard – and it would shut again. The raw

Meat in a pony’s mouth, to which was bound
His speech, had long decaid away – it found
This out eventually. Nor it could hoist
Itself, nor move about so eas’ly ’round

The deck, nor sign them speech – it’d not rejoic’d
At this. So close, yet he could not be voic’d!
“I see your panic and grief so great,” said
The princess. “Forgive us if we would foist

A life of magic borne.” And yet, instead,
It’d rock about the raft, as if it’d pled
For just this sort of thing. It further show’d,
He wanted back his voice. “Well, go ahead,”

The baker said. “Let’s hear, I say, the load
He’s borne upon himself.” And it would goad
Her ever on, with movements seemingly
So frantic that she’d have t’ give in. She sew’d

A tongue aetheral in his jaw, to see
If that’d suffice – and it would blissfully
Accept her help again. An ancient tone
Would rumble from a place unseen, and she

Was most surpris’d to see it work. “Alone
I have been for so long, I’d not have known
How else to speak, or even move,” it spake,
A voice quite like Honeycomb’s. “If you’ve shown

Me generosity, then let me take
The same and show you tenfold.” “A mistake,”
She said, “it’d be for us t’ accept the bid.”
A bony clack! would silence her. “Forsake

Humility – I must give something to you. Did
You find trouble? I can help you be hid.
Are you lost merely? I can help there too;
I know where this stream leads – ” But Luna rid

Him of his offer kind. “If you only knew
Who I was, Risen, you would know how true
My resolution is.” He seem’d to blink,
A flicker in his light. “A, so it’s you,

O Princess Mine!” He seem’d better – I think
He saw me once, she thought – and with a ‘wink’
He told, “I once saw to your treasury.
Amazing – you’ve not ag’d at all!” The link

Would snap in place at last. “O, Rich Rags!” “See?
I knew you’d know me by my role!” Yet she
Was mystified. “What happen’d t’ you?” she’d ask
When she got the chance, sans a bit of glee

T’ her voice. “My Liege, I have to doff my mask –
Th’ events that would transpire around me bask
In fortune less than detriment. I pray,
You do not wish to hear.” “Upon this task

In this land, I’ve heard far worse than you’d say.”
“I’m quite unsure if that is true. The way
It’s gone is most unfavorable. How
Would you accept it?” “Just as I’d this day

Eternal.” Said he, “Well, if you’ll allow,
You might see also selflessness. And now – ”
He clear’d his throat, or tried to – he had none,
Of course, having rotted so long since. “My vow

As your aid was so simple, as was spun
By you when you took me on. How ’twas done
Was by your whim; for I was just a tool
That you could wield on your behalf. What fun

Indeed!” The princess roll’d her eyes. “My rule
Was calm and just, was it not? Was I cruel?”
“O skies above, nay!” said he. “I would not
Consider such! In fact, I’d say that you’ll

Be pleas’d to know that ev’rything you’ve wrought
Was well and fine! The errors that I’ve caught
Were numerous, yet all was sorted well
Eventually. Your worries should be nought.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” Luna’d tell
The skeleton. “Because I should not dwell
On other possibilities.” “I must
Be frank, O Princess Mine – I rather smell

Some trickery about him.” “How so?” The dust
Was settl’d calmly. Said the baker, “Just
How well did you do your job? I ask, why
Would you do something like this.” All nonplust,

The skull said, “Baker, we might not see eye
To eye on ev’rything, but I would not try
Betraying her trust. Questions quite absurd –
I fire back with one: what do you imply?”

Then Luna stept in. “Pray, mind not his word
About the subject. Furthermore, we’ve heard
So many things, all worse, from many more.
Perhaps you’ll entertain his thoughts?” A bird

Flew down fro’ th’ sky, and percht upon the poor
Skeleton’s skull. It did n’ at all abhor
The other two, and he did not detect
The perching. “I’ve work’d with her for a score

Of years, before you came to be.” “I’ve chect
His records – he was fine, with all respect
Unlike that gryphon we had met.” “O dear!
What did he steal from you? I shall protect!”

But Luna laught. “Don’t worry, he’s not here –
And we still have all we have brought. Your fear
Is quite unfounded.” He sigh’d in relief –
Then said, “I worri’d that he might be near.

But still,” he would continue, “I’ll be brief,
As brief as I can be. I was no thief,
If that was what you earlier askt. In fact,
You might find me the opposite.” Belief

Went out the window at this thought. Their tact
Was useless here. “This has to be an act,”
The baker said. “How can you claim as much?”
“But sit,” the skull commanded him. “So pact

With much awareness my words are. As such,
You’ll learn things certain. – I’ve not lost my touch,
Have I?” “You’ve not,” said Luna. “Tell us so.”
“My skills at counting are great – insomuch

That I could tell immediately to go
To you or sister when fraud is. I’d show
Exactly how much, and from where, and you
Would do the rest, and for all that, I owe

So much, for all the things that you’ve been through.”
“O soft!” said Luna, “flatter not. I knew
You perfect for the job, in any case.
“But even so, all that I’ve said is true!

You do remember when I set my pace
In counting, yes? Then you gave me my place
Amongst the court!” He paus’d. “A yes, the tale:
I do suppose that I will start there, when Her Grace

Would summon me to th’ castle. Rather stale
The air would hang around me, which did pale
To how the records were kept when I first
Saw them. How could they do this? It’d avail

Itself to endless debt – by far, the worst
That I have see was that the clerk was curst
With such demands so endless. I took o’er
The count at her command. The very first

Thing that I did was grab the records, pour
Through them as best I could, and note the score
Of loss and profit. Then I whipt to shape
The others in the court, in making sure

This setback happen’d not again. Agape
Her mouth hung, when I lifted up the drape
Of debt in three week’s time. She thought it’d take
More years than I would have, but they’d escape

A fate so bad – they must make no mistake;
’Tis just unbearable, with much at stake!
But anyway, all that was sorted out
Within due course, and Luna soon would make

Me permanent addition thenabout.
The treasury would blossom soon; the drought
That once was there was lifted soon enough.
Then one day, I would come down with a bout

Of unknown ill; the princess knew ’twas rough,
And gave me th’ time away to let the stuff
Be sorted out. A moon had past, and soon
I could rise sans a headache. It was rough!

I came back to court that day, right at noon,
When Luna’s sister took her break. A boon
It was for her, but not for me; I’d wait
For sev’ral minutes ’fore her time was hewn

Fro’ th’ schedule. She told me that such a weight
Took quite the toll on me; that I’d come t’ hate
The job. But I did not! I told her so!
She did not seem convinc’d, but she’d debate

Me not. And later on, her sister’d show
Her generosity.” “’Tis not a throe
To me,” would Luna interrupt the clerk.
“We could quite well afford it – you would know!”

The skull would nod – or try. “Of course – you’d lurk
Through the sheets whilst the treasury would work.
You must have found yourself quite pleas’d by how
Prosperous that Equestria was.” A smirk,

And he continued, “Thus, you would allow
The benefits be spread across the land – my vow
Should still be kept, and I have done my best
To that end. Still, y’ insisted to endow

A bit of that on me. I had my rest
For just a moon, and that was enough – lest
Another thing came up, but I’d not bet
Upon it. But you’d not leave it unaddrest,

Would you?” She shook her head. “Indeed, such debt
Has to be paid some way, or you would let
It be forgotten. Truly, I’d refuse,
But I should not, or you would be upset!

And so it went – you’d offer for my use
Another benefit, and I’d deduce
That you would want to see your debt be paid.
Instead of turning down, I’d introduce

A better answer – I would have it made
To ’nother pony, one who would have praid
For something like it. Soon I would be known
As the court’s best – and yet, I was afraid

You’d find out, then I would be turn’d to stone!”
But she laught. “Same old Rich Rags, all alone
In his conspiracy. I knew it all
Along, and simply let you use the throne

That way.” If he had cheeks still, he’d appall
At her words – yet he stood, so firm and tall.
“In any case, my generosity
Became well-known throughout the castle hall.

I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers, that with glee
I’d give away the favors of the princess. She
Would never know – or, truly, would permit –
But why stop there? I askt myself. I’d see

The smiles appear upon their faces – ” It
Had better not be ’nother fool – it’d spit
In ev’rything I’ve learn’d from Minute Mirth,
She thought – “so all was worth the while. To wit,

That raise in pay I past to Down-to-Earth.
The two-moon leave? Well, Nocturne just gave birth;
She needed it. No matter what you gave
To me, My Liege, I never had a dearth.

Instead, I found their joy would further pave
A better life. I’m glad that you forgave
Me, for I am about to tell of more.
Some might say I was little more than slave,

But I would relish in it. ’Twas no chore
At all – beyond, of course, what I did for
My work. And when they askt for things I’d not,
How could I turn them down? I’d have the cure

Conjured from myself. Indeed, I’ve wrought
My further reputation from the rot
Of my estate. I’m sure you’d understand!”
But Luna seemed unconvinc’d. She ought

To reprimand, but she was puzzl’d, and
She wanted answers. What had Rich Rags plann’d?
She soon found out: “I wisht to spread my joy
Throughout the land, ’til I seem’d nought but sand

And spirit. Still, I kept my word – t’ destroy
What I had workt for seem’d wrong. I’d employ
No other method to my plan, and so in time,
My things the other ponies would enjoy,

But this left me without, as ’twould be th’ rhyme
Of charity. They once were mine; no crime
Was made in court, as you can fully tell.
Whatever, I was old, and past my prime;

What use would I have for those items? Well,
Not much at all. And then one night, I fell
Asleep, and woke up in this solitude.
I could not find another soul; no spell

Could well detect at all. My giving mood
Was yet unsatisfied; this land I view’d
As punishment for not enough. Who knew
How wide this place was? Misery ensu’d

For long as I remember e’er since, through
The endless days and years. Yet all too true,
I could resist not th’ call that beckons me
To give to others what I have. A new

Behavior came from this: I’d soon see
That nothing came of it, as you’d agree;
The spark of joy that came before was gone.
I striv’d to bring it back, however – ” “We

Can eas’ly tell,” said Luna, “ev’ry one
Of those just used you for a simple pawn,
A means t’ an end. Pray tell, why did you buy
Into their lies? And what became o’ th’ con?”

The skull sent forth a sigh. “I’ll tell no lie –
One day, my hide would catch a dragon’s eye.
He stript it from my back, which hurt like fire,
And with it, he took off into the sky,

And I would not see him again. The ire
Replac’d my joy – why must the drake desire
What I cannot give ’way? And so the rot
Would set in through the rest of my entire

Form. Nary longer would I give; I sought
Instead protection from the heat, which ought
To dry me out, and rend me invalid.
And then one day, I happen’d by this plot

Of wet and fertile land. I slipt amid
The water-stream, in a desperate bid
To wash away whatever might prove ill
To my health. Yet the waters here would rid

Me of my life – or so I thought. I will
Determine somehow how much time would spill
Before you woke me up, for I did not sense
Its passage in my sleep. Your magic skill

May prove t’ be helpful.” “I should take offense
At your entitlement,” said Luna. “Hence
I may revoke your second wind.” “Nay! Wait!
If I tell you of dangers that I’d sense

Within my sleep, perhaps you’d bear the weight
Of calculating such a time.” “I’d hate
To disappoint, but I have not a spell
That can do what you plead.” “At any rate,

I’ll tell you anyway!” “O very well,
Speak what you know.” And he began to tell
About a waterfall that rose up to the cloud
That hid the mountain from its base – it fell

For so far, pegasi, e’en with how proud
They were, could not ascend up through the shroud.
And furthermore, they could not stand to stand
Nearby the base, for th’ water was so loud

They’d deafen instantaneously. “O, and
It dries up on a whim,” he’d add. “The sand
Has such a way of doing so. You’ll run
Out of its water, without warning.” “Grand,”

She said. “And just when we were having fun.”
“And one thing more!” he spake. “If you’re not done
With me, I ask, may I attend? I’ll turn
The two to three – these eyes, immune to th’ sun,

Can see out clearer than yours can! I’ll earn
My keep, one way or ’nother! And I’ll learn
The skills to make myself whole once again!”
“But Rich Rags,” Luna said, “I must be stern:

We two must go alone; we cannot gain
A third, or fourth, or even more. The strain
Would be too much, for even you; I plead,
Set down your duties – they are all in vain

For something quite like this.” And indeed,
The clerk was most dejected. “I shall heed
Your words, O Princess Mine,” he said so faint.
“I hope you ne’er forget me, or my deed

For th’ crown.” Without her prompt, without complaint,
The stone and bone would split; its own restrant
Had faded fast. It would not stir without
Her magic. “Why, I’ve never met a saint

Quite like him,” said the baker. “There’s no doubt
That our home lacks a hero now. He’d spout
With charity, and have the gall to back
It up. But now, we’ll go back to our route

Sans him.” He sigh’d. “Let’s go, My Liege. No plaque
Can bring him with us.” Then he heard a crack
As th’ bone would shatter from its gravity.
“I can’t bring him back anyway – he’d lack

The necessary spirit.” “This I see.”
She swept the skull o’erboard, to set it free
From obligation. “Why we burden him
Is yonder me – We’ll not so so, and we

Shall venture ever on.” Her voice grew grim,
But he would comment nought. She saw his vim
Dissolve before her eyes, and she did not
Wish t’ tamper memory, which still grew dim.

He wonder’d if his memory would rot
Away as well. It’d have to – it was wrought
In destiny that soon he would become
Forgotten – he was not a pony sought

For talents much outside the village. Some
Might treasure him – his family the sum
Primary. And of course, the ones who came
To buy the things he crafted daily. “Come

Again!” he called after – just the same,
A few would do exactly that. His name
Was on their lips as they stept in the door.
And too, his wife and colt would be the flame

That lit his early morning long before
Celestia rais’d the sun. It was no chore
To tend to th’ doughs, so long as he could glance
Them coming in. That’s why, along this tour,

He swore himself to her – so he’d a chance
T’ return to them. He would help her advance
The two upon the journey; in exchange,
He sought protection with her sturdy stance.

Well, so he thought, I find it rather strange
To keep my shoes on. He would soon arrange
Them off his hooves, and let all four air
In open sun. The shoes had such a range

As t’ stay upon the deck, so he’d not care
About them anymore. Instead, he’d stare
Ahead the raft, to search out what the clerk
Said of the falling water that he’d swear

Existed. Luna, on the other hoof, would jerk
Her head from side to side, so nothing’d lurk
To pounce upon the two. She, too, would wish
For freedom, even if it took some work.

She wonder’d if she could become a fish
Swimming within the creek – with just a swish,
She’d overcome the blocks this land would place
To halt her pony form. But then, no dish

For gryphons would be right sans meat, so grace
Would stop temptation. She would turn her face
Ahead as well, but saw no danger bearing down
Upon the raft, as the duo would race

At breakneck pace upstream. The wind would drown
The sail with force enough to blow her crown
From off the top of her head. She would doff
It thusly, train’d her magic, so she’d frown

Not if she lost it; th’ wind was just a cough
To magic hers – in fact, she’d rightly scoff
At such an effort. Soon the creek would clog
Before her crown be lost! She too took off

Her cloak – in magic, folded neatly. Fog
Would soon approach, and she felt like a jog
Had happen’d – cooler air she ought to feel
Upon her hide once more. This sodden log

They rode upon did wonders, but she’d peel
Some focus from her other task. Too real
The nearby dangers were; she’d rightly know
When such approacht the raft, and then with zeal

She would dispatch the hazard, even though
She to need fix her eyes upon the show.
She squinted straight ahead, to try to find
The waterfall that Rich Rags mention’d so.

And yet, ’twas so far, she thought herself blind.
How could she never spot it? There it shin’d,
The light off ripples in the flowing creek,
But not a place so high and great? Her mind

Fail’d t’ understand. But still, they had to seek
The path, and never deviate fro’ th’ peak
O’ th’ mountain, which was still so far away.
But suddenly, she heard the piercing shriek

Of metal crossing sodden wood beams. “Hey!”
He cried. “What happen’d to my shoes?” “I say,”
She said, “they must have fallen when we hit
That gust of wind. Just leave them.” “But I – ” “Stay

Your words; we’ll forge you new ones once we quit.”
He lookt behind, and shook his head; his kit
Was not worth searching for, when she could give
Him newer shoes. O what a benefit!

Her words would prove to be a great motive –
Such promise gave him greater drive to live!
He cut his sudden losses, since he’d chose
To get a full four set as incentive.

On th’ other hoof, she kept a look for clues
As to another path to th’ goal, and she’d refuse
A lack as answer; there was always more
Than one, far as she knew. She would amuse

Whatever thing might come by her way, or
She’ll seek it out herself. As this day wore
On, even if it’d never end, she’d strive
To see this through, no matter what the chore.
> Book of Surfeit, Canto 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

And off and well away they went, their drive
Most unperturb’d. The stream they’d cut; they’d dive
And bob along the surface, as the air
Would carry them against the flow. “Survive

This trial,” said Luna, “and we’ll be right there
Before the day is out!” “What day? It’d care
Not,” said he, “when the sun would always shine.”
“You well know what I meant,” said Luna. “Where

We are right now, we’ll have to realign
Ourselv’s along. The river may be good and fine,
But don’t forget about our final goal.”
He nodded at this, train’d his eyes to dine

His gaze upon the stream ahead. His foal,
He would remember, sought out Luna’s toll
To try to save his life. In doing so,
He thrust them on a trip, he in the role

Of Luna’s guide, as best as he could show.
If only heat and drouth was the sole throe –
He praid for water; here it was in spad’s.
He’d even miss th’ initial winter snow!

He pictur’d back along the task, the trad’s
He made with many others, tales of raids
And love and more he heard, exchang’d f’ a place
To hide away, or a raft, which had aids

Of just the two aboard. At such a pace,
They would arrive before long, but the race
Would show them just how long the river’s stretch
Forsooth was. Even if they had a trace

Of luck, would it be right for them? That’d etch
Within his mind, until he askt, “If we catch
A break, where would it be?” “I cannot tell,”
The princess told him. “If we were to fetch

Such fortune, it would be atop.” “O well,
If you are certain you have not a spell
To speed it up – ” “I do not have that power.
The pegasi can change the weather, dwell

Amid its clouds – but not I at this hour.”
So he’d resolve his sight ahead to scour
The creek for anything that they could use.
So far, besides the skull, his luck grew dour

And minimal. But then, he would refuse
T’ relent to such a fate, when he could choose
To struggle on ’gainst impossible stake.
And Luna would as well – and so its ruse

Would never have effect. And then he spake,
“I see ahead an odd thing! A mistake?”
She ponder’d his words carefully, and then
She lookt up, just in time, to see a lake

Amid the river. Here, perhaps a fen
Existed – who could say? Regardless, when
They found it was most fortunate; she saw
A sandbar blocking them. Ahead, a glen

Would ferry them both, but she knew how raw
A deal that was; they’d stay where water’s law
Would keep them cool. She ponder’d what she ought
To do – and then it hit her mind: “Voilà!”

She said, “I’ll clear the way ahead!” The rot
Upon the craft might not withstand what wrought
The blockage, but she had her magic horn!
She lit it up, and dug away, and sought

An exit for them both. As though a thorn
Had fallen from her side, her power had torn
Through quite the block of wet, unstable sand.
Inside a minute, Luna would adorn

The lake with a fresh water-inlet, and
They could move on again at her command.
The sail was turn’d to th’ wind, and with a gust,
They took to future waters, just as plann’d.

He was amaz’d, yet she was quite nonplust
At such a sight of magic usage – just
Another trick she had to wield, he guest.
She was glad simply that it was not dust

She had to clear away; she thought it best
That she did not have t’ carry, such her rest
Would prove to be moot. Up ahead, they’d see
The river flowed straight, but th’ wind had prest

Against their sail – they’d travel backwards! She
Would furl the cloth, and, as if she would flee
The lake behind them, started kicking fast
Behind the raft. He’d only watch with glee

At such a speed that she swam at. “Avast!”
He call’d – “A field of columns!” To get past
The lot would take no small amount of luck.
He turn’d the sail onto its side, and last

He plac’d himself i’ th’ center. Then, she’d tuck
The raft through spaces tight, and swam amok
The stony columns – what did they provide?
He ponder’d to himself. And then it struck

Him – these were yet another trick, t’ deride
Their efforts on their journey shar’d. He sigh’d –
Why can’t it let them pass sans incident?
It seem’d to stretch forever, never wide

Enough in many places. Her vim spent,
She askt, “Pray, shall you take my place?” “I’ve meant
To help you how I can,” he said, “and so
I’ll do just that.” He slipt his rear half, leant

Against the raft, and when she left the flow,
He’d kick with measur’d care. She’d point to go,
Since he found himself blind amid the stones.
He did regret not t’ her the same to show.

Along the way, he thought he saw some bones –
Another glance said otherwise. The moans
Of wind between the columns sent a shake
Along his spine – he thought of such unknowns

Who may have perisht here by pure mistake.
Before too long, his legs began to ache,
But he saw sunlight glint beyond the place.
“We’re nearly though the stony henge!” she spake.

He’d soon relax himself, and slow’d his pace.
Before long, he past through without a trace
Left on the wood. He climbed back aboard,
Reoriented th’ mast back in its place,

And loost the ropes that held the sail. It roar’d
With wind behind the two, and on they soar’d
With newfound speed. They held on rather tight
As they cut through the water like a sword.

About their luck, the Princess of the Night
Remarkt, “What fortune smiles upon with might!
We’ll see to our shar’d destination soon!”
He praid that she fortold the future right.

And so they went, as smoothly as a tune,
With winds behind their backs, beneath the noon
That’d last forevermore, to places yet
Unknown to them, to hazards that could prune

Them sans a second thought. Why they don’t fret
Was simple – even in th’ face of a threat,
They had each other; that was quite enough
To conquer anything that they had met

Before, and will meet since – no waters rough,
Nor winds amix with sand, nor other stuff
Shall stay their hoov’s along their journey key –
Its harden’d efforts only speak of sough.

’Twas not the first that Luna sailed – she
Remember’d th’ time that she went out to sea
With sister dear, t’ explore beyond the east.
They met the gryphons at their stone; their spree

Would take them to the land of fiery beast –
On their regalia somehow they’d not feast,
E’en though they needed not the ornaments.
But even greedy dragons were the least

Of all her worries on the trip – her sense
Would leave her in a storm; she too grew tense
At weather such as that. Yet they endur’d
I’ th’ end – perhaps it was the doing whence

Of seaponies she saw not. Whale-Road cur’d
Her of her ignorance of them, assur’d
Her of their pure intentions – maybe they
Should be much better known, if they’ve secur’d

The seas for pony sailors not to stray.
Perhaps she’d raise that point, upon the day
She would return, whenever that would come.
Ahead, she saw no danger – not yet, nay;

Another hazard may appear at some
Point in time she could not fortell. The scum
That built up on the edges of the craft
Nigh made her slip and fall – but with a hum

And magic, she would clean from fore to aft.
He did not notice – not at first. “The raft
By now seems tidier,” he fin’lly said.
He glanced, saw the deck scrubb’d clean – and laught

Aloud. “Perhaps it needed such a scrub – I’d dread
To lose you, either way – but look ahead!”
He pointed forward – water fell from high,
Which hinder’d progress. “Now we’ll have to tread

Upon dry land, and leave this here.” A sigh,
And he steer’d th’ craft to shore. She said, “By sky
Above, I won’t let us abandon th’ gift!
She too let it come to the stream-bank – why?

She grabb’d it by the corner; with a lift,
It was aloft. Her stronger wings would shift,
Prepar’d to fly. “You’ll have to find a trail
To th’ top yourself,” she told him. “Do not drift

In wind!” he called out to her. “The sail
May work against you, even now!” ’Twas frail,
This mast, but just a turn protected such
From stronger drafts of wind, and then she’d scale

The waterfall, bit by bit – this was much
Heavier than Honeycomb was – his touch
Might comfort her, t’ ensure he did not fall,
But here, it was a greater weight in clutch.

She checkt behind her, to the ground, and all
She could see was the endless sand. She’d stall
To try to spot her guide – and there was he,
Who found a cliffside path – he seem’d so small!

But then, she knew how high she was, to see
The world as such a tiny scale. Then she
Heard water falling quieter, and found
That she had reacht the top – with newfound glee

She also saw she beat him to this ground.
She set the raft down here, without a sound.
A moment later, there he was – the climb
Had taken longer than she thought. “Around

This place,” he said, “within a shorter time,
We should find shade fro’ th’ mountain. Such a clime
Is dark and cool, even without a stream.”
“I should agree,” said Luna. “See it prime

Cause to return to quest.” And with a gleam
Of hornlight, she would push the craft i’ th’ stream.
She quickly hopt aboard, and grabb’d her guide,
Before the wind took them both as a team.

“We’ll know the place, and with you at my side,
We will succeed!” she vow’d – and yet, inside,
She tender’d ling’ring doubts about the prize,
Old doubts that she meant to forget. – She sigh’d.

This time, he did not mind the noise. “By skies
Above,” he said to her, “I must advise
Some measur’d caution, as we come upon
Our destination.” Luna nodded. “Wise

Of you to mention.” Their attention drawn
Ahead, they tried to see if anyone
Would try to block their progress on the trip.
But nothing could be seen here. With a yawn,

She thought she’d fall asleep at last – a drip
Of water by her ear would wake. She’d whip
Her head up, just in time for them to view
A sight they most desir’d. Her heart would skip –

The mountain loom’d o’er them, the princess blue
And baker gray – no longer was it true
That it was further off – they fin’lly came
Where trav’ling did intend to lead them to.

“We’ll need t’ abandon this soon, for our aim
Lies vertical,” said Luna. “What a shame,”
He said – “I rather lik’d to flow with ease
Along these waters.” “Well, she made no claim

That we need maintain this – ’twas just to please
Us, make the journey easier.” A breeze
So gentle wafted by – a signal clear
For her to run aground. They had to seize

The chance, for up ahead they’d clearly hear
The roar of waters falling. “’Twould appear
’Tis necessary to advance on land,”
He would surmise. “Let’s set off over here.”

The stream grew shallow where he pointed, and
She steer’d in that direction. This wet sand
Would grind against the bottom of the craft,
And hold it fast against the wind. She scann’d

Th’ horizon – not a thing to see, not aft,
Nor fore – and all they had then was that raft.
“In which way should we move?” he would inquire.
“I think up to where we hear th’ roaring draft.”

She lookt around the corner – it’d require
Great effort if she lifted the raft higher.
They’d have to go on hoof, from here on out –
But still, she was grateful for help from prior.

“If you see shelter, tell me – I’ve no doubt
We’ll need it soon,” he said. “I sense a bout
Of sand to mix with wind approaching us.”
“But even so, we should seek out a route

That takes us up the mountain – quite the fuss
For me to take flight, to take both of us
Upon my wings. I’d tire before we’re done!”
She shut her maw, with nothing more t’ discuss.

Besides the stream and cliff, and sand and sun
Of course, they could not find a bastion – none
Existed here, so far as they could tell;
They had nothing for hope, not even one.

“Have you some fortune good?” “I’ve none; we’ve fell
Into a blinder part, it seems – oh well,”
She said. She squinted closely at the cliff
To see if she could spot a path. A spell

Could craft one instantly, but only if
It took just one to th’ top. It was not stiff
Enough for both of them, but e’en with wings,
’Twas quite a long way up. She caught a whiff

Of something musty near. “What sort of things
Might make that odor?” she would ask. “No springs
We’ve found and known smell half as foul as this.”
“We’ll look around here, and see what that brings,”

He told her, adding, “Let’s hope we don’t miss
The obvious.” She’d look high, not t’ dismiss
What could lie beyond them, and he’d look low,
To see if they stept in something. Th’ princess

Did not have luck here, but he did – a slow
Walk would reveal a pit next to the flow,
Perhaps to trap the water someplace here.
Perhaps a pony liv’d here? Who would know?

Without a word, he gestur’d her to near
The place. “So!” she said. “It would appear
That we’re at last in greater luck. We’ll ask
About a path along the cliff, to steer

Us on the proper way.” The sand would bask
Atop a wooden door, which, like a mask,
Disguis’d its true intentions. She would brush
Away the dust, and once she did that task,

She rapt upon the door. She felt a rush
Of nerv’s course through her, then there was the blush
Upon her visage – what if she’d trespass
A force she’d not invite? With careful hush,

He told her, “I don’t think it’d come to pass,
Whatever dangers you conjure, amass.”
“I hope you are correct,” she would return.
Before long, this door open’d up – alas,

No danger would appear – her fears would earn
Her something she’d expect not – a cavern
Beneath, where this one hermit liv’d alone.
His harden’d, weather’d gaze could eas’ly burn

A hole through both their souls. Luna went prone
To get a better look at this unknown
One. “Who are you?” she askt, her voice so light,
Yet his mood darken’d further, much t’ her own

Fright. “I am Hideaway.” – O what a fright
Would deeply chill the Princess of the Night!
“I have to ask, how did you find this place?
I wish for no disturbance, yet you might

Find me and bother, much to your disgrace.”
“We do apologize,” said Luna, “but in case
You’ve not seen such, you are the only soul
We could ask for help here.” “What be your chase?”

He askt in turn. “Not ev’ryone can stroll
Though this desolation without a goal.”
“Indeed,” Honeycomb said. “We ought to climb
The mountain – that one there – and that’s the whole.”

The hermit nodded. “If that be your rhyme,”
He spake, “then I must disappoint: the time
It takes is endless – many’ve tried, to fail
In ev’ry instance. Surely such a clime

Deters the two of you.” “But we’re not frail!
We’ve seen such dangers where you’d hide in veil
Of sand and sun. A mountain scar’s us not.”
“But if you may,” he said, “I have a tale

That could dissuade you from your task.” “’Tis hot
Out here, in any case – this place is fraught
With clime that’d dry a lake immediately.”
The hermit sigh’d, and let them in. “I ought

To keep you out my door, but I can see
A storm upon th’ horizon. – Stay with me,
Then, if for just that time.” “We’re grateful so,”
Said Luna, “for your hospitality.”

The place was barren, nary much to show
In way of furniture – this status quo
Reflected his nomadic living way.
She would not question anything here, though.

Off to the side, she noted where she may
Obtain some water, if she needed. – Nay,
She did not feel within her throat her thirst.
As winds blew, she knew they were here to stay

For quite some time, considering the worst
That happen’d to her in the storm. This curst
Land knew no mercy, that much t’ her was clear.
“I shall begin,” he told the two, “but first,

I ask, how did you come this way? I fear
You two are quite misplac’d – it would appear
That e’en a princess quite like you, to come
This way, does bode ill for your home, my dear.”

“That thought is quite irrelevant, a crumb
To what you vowed to tell to us.” “Some
Are so insistent in this day and age.”
He lied in front of them. “I’ll not be mum

In e’en the slightest detail, but this sage
Must tell you: what I shall speak may enrage
The both of you.” Said she, “We’ve heard far worse
Along our travels, if that can assuage.”

“This tell of the origin of my curse –
At least, I think – I always was averse
To others’ company, and even now, amid
What should be nothing, through what I traverse,

I still find others bothersome. I bid
Farewell to one, t’ encounter more. I did
Whatever I could to dissuade, but no,
They all prov’d ineffective. So I hid

In places myriad, but they would know
Each time where I had gone. This social throe
Had plagued me in the land that I call home;
But e’en in exile, I can never stow

Myself away, from out of sight – I’d roam
This land forever, to seek out, to comb
The sands for safer haven, but in each
Occasion, I’d’ve fail’d. But this bad tome

Is not what you wish t’ hear – so I shall teach
The origin o’ th’ same. This tale shall reach
Back countless years, by my own reckoning.
I once liv’d by myself beside a beach,

And spend my days t’ illuminate the thing,
The shifting tides, the schooners in passing –
But you might think, ‘Why not display your yen
To passers-by?’ ’Tis simple – it would bring

A load of trouble to my way – and then
I’d have to relocate away. Once, when
I did not check my back, a pony came
And saw my work. She found me in my den,

And askt me of my work. I knew her game –
She wanted something more, but nay, her claim
Was that she wanted to display my art
In public. I refus’d, but just the same

She would return the morning next, to start
Negotiations, as if I’d impart
My work for better offers. I would not,
But she’d not hear refusal from my part.

Eventually, her visiting had wrought
Th’ attention of the others, which had brought
More focus onto me, much to my dismay.
It got to th’ point when I had t’ do as ought.

So many priceless works were lost that day,
But that to me was just the price to pay
For solitude. They’d not get even one,
I ascertain’d as such. I mov’d away

In nightfall, so they’d have their nightly fun
Without the realization there were none
T’ obtain from me. And when they came next morn,
I did not leave a trace beneath the sun.

I set up home within the forest, which had borne
A beauty of its own. I would not scorn
The scenery – I chose t’ illuminate
As I had just before. I would adorn

The sapling with the glimmers of the late
Sun setting, enamel creeks in ice, create
The clearings in the summer to be dry.
In time, I grew to love the place, but fate

Had other plans for me. A rainstorm – why? –
Destroy’d the forest pure. I would apply
The changes in my newer paintings, but
The canopy was clear’d enough to spy

Me in my nat’ral studio. My hut
Soon drew a hiking crowd, which wore a rut
Along the forest ground. I’d chase them off,
But th’ damage had been done. So I ask, what

Was I suppost to do?” He stopt to cough,
And reach for th’ spout, and cur’d it with a quaff
Of water. “I would have to run again,”
He follow’d shortly. “I would have to doff

My newfound home – you could imagine pain
Like mine then was unbearable, such bane
A second time should not be underwent.
But it prov’d necessary – do not blame

Me for my action; rather, blame those bent
On interacting with me, when I meant
My solitude.” He sigh’d. “Again I mov’d
T’ another place. I praid their efforts spent,

And for some time it seem’d to work. Remov’d
From forest to the desert, this improv’d
My works substantially. I learn’d the sand
Had mulititudes of colors, which had prov’d

To be so hard to replicate right, and
My dozen first tries came out fruitless. Land
Was not meant to be speckl’d like this, yet
I was a horse possest; I would not stand

For any flaw on canvas to be set.
In time, I thought to reproduce sans fret
My works from on the seaside, with the skill
I had attain’d from painting deserts – wet

That sand was not, and yet th’ idea still
Applied the same. I found a barren hill
And would apply imagination there.
The seas would flow from out my eyes, and spill

Behind it ’cross the bone-dry landscape. Bare
It would be not; the schooners that would fare
Across the way would too sail on the sea
That I’ve conjur’d. I plotted each with care,

And on the hilltop, I could clearly see
The shoreline litter’d with the treasures, free
Fro’ th’ waters that I’ve laid beyond. Before
Too long had past, it was completed. Three

Weeks, in the spite of desert heat – e’en more
And it would be unworkable, a chore
I’d not do willingly – would yield a prize
That I thought futile: newly-conjur’d shore,

Sprung from the drouth, as seen by my own eyes.
I knew such power had no effect – skies
Above, I would not have it other ways –
But in the back of mind, I’d soon realize

That I would have to mobilize – these days
Were lonely, just the way I like, but laze
Would stay my hoov’s, and one day, per my fear,
They found me once again. The same old craze

Would start again; ’twas if they could not hear
That I did not wish for fame. They’d endear
Themselv’s on all the works that I have ‘lost,’
And wisht that I could make again. By sheer

Coincidence, they found what they’d accost
Me for the rest of my life – that I’ve tost
Much lesser pieces did concern them not;
They wanted this one, no matter the cost.

I tried to turn away each offer, but it brought
E’en more, as had before, like I spoke nought
Of selling. Then, as Luna’s moon reached
Its peak, they all left. Had they lost the plot?

I ponder’d to myself. Suddenly, dread
Set in, as if they all had plann’d ahead.
I checkt in each place where I may have kept
My work – beneath the rug, beneath the bed,

But it could not be found. My thinking leapt
Between two possibilities – except
One would win out – that they had turn’d to thiev’s!
Of course they would! If I would not accept

Their offers, they’d use talking that deceiv’s
My watch – O for what trickery achiev’s
Such end. If just the one would leave me be,
Then so be it; I’ll not make more on leav’s

Of canvas for them. Yet I was not free
From their grasp, not just yet – I’d have to flee
Away from my third home. I settl’d on
A city far away, where they’d not see

Me in a crowd. I would become their pawn,
Adopt their accent and their ways, and gone
I would be, ’mid the sea of others too.
I only wish I knew what that would spawn:

Within ennui, one day I would walk through
The doors into an art museum, view
Its works, as many others had. And there I saw
Inside the rearmost chamber, all too true,

The painting I had made! I stood in awe
And took in what their greed had done. The law
Might well protect me from such perversion,
But that would meant to ruin mask. My jaw

Would have to stay shut – and yet, they would stun
Me with their commentary. ‘This is one
I’d love to hang within my home!’ ‘I so
Desire to know who painted this!’ ‘This sun

Shin’s forth just like the outside – who would know
How one could capture with sheer care, to show
It on the canvas – ’ ’Twas all that I heard
Before I had to leave, lest I would throw

My guise away by chance. It had occur’d
To me some later time that, if I blurr’d
The rays that went into the water, then
I may have ruin’d the work, and it’d not stirr’d

Their prying. So they likt my work – but when
My solitude is on the line, their yen
Would not be satisfied. I had to hide
My talents, lest they find me in my den

And force my hoof along a canvas wide,
To make them more and more – ” And then he sigh’d,
Reliev’d, it seem’d, that he did not need face
Such verity. And then, spake Luna’s guide,

“Why not refuse? I’m sure you could with grace,
And they’d have t’ accept.” “Were you in my place,”
Said Hideaway, “you would be driven mad
By offers for their buy. In any case,

I do not wish my fate upon you. Had
You been there, you would understand – be glad
For peace and solitude – My Liege, I’d see
How lonely court can be, but don’t be sad;

Far better ’tis to see to nought – to me,
At least.” “I may judge you on that – for we
Have many we call company,” she spake.
“But is that all you have to tell?” said he.

“What happen’d to your work? Did you forsake
It at some point?” He rais’d a hoof. “I’ll take
A moment to complete, and you shall hear.”
He clear’d his throat. “That painting made me ache

For home, but home to me was never near.
I soon resolv’d to let no more appear
Within my lifetime. Then one day, I woke
To see that out beyond my door, a queer

Sight took hold – you saw it yourselv’s, no joke!
Nought but sand far as I could see! I’d poke
My side, but I did not rouse from my sleep.
It seem’d a fitting fate, for that paintstroke

That would complete my work that I’d not keep
Was done in such a clime. ’Twould not be cheap
To replicate in any likely way.
But all that sand would bother me. I’d sweep

For half the day, and by the end, you’d say
That I’d not done a thing. By end of day
I gave up on the prospect, and would dwell
As if a nomad, in this clime to stay.

Much to my chagrin, they would never well
Stay far away from me. I’d know the smell
Of them approaching, looking for some loot.
If only I could learn a useful spell

To deprecate their efforts like a brute.
Of course, it would not resolve the dispute,
So ev’ry time they found me, I would need
To move away from there, which would refute

Their efforts – for a time, each time. They’d heed
My actions not, in finding me with speed
Again. You two are just the latest. Now,
Have you any demands?” He would then read

Their faces, trying, ascertaining how
They could have found him here by chance. “Allow
An explanation,” Luna spake, as though
He could see in his mind. But he’d not bow

To her inquiry. “If you’ve nought to show,
Then why do you come this way? I don’t know
A pathway to the mountain top.” “Then we’ve
Nought more to say,” spake she. “Then get out! Go!

And bother me not e’er again!” They’d leave
With ev’ry bit of haste, though they’d not thieve
A thing from him. No matter what, they would
Respect his wishes. What could they achieve

Without assistance? “O, this is not good,”
Honeycomb said – and pointed, where they stood
Would soon be overwhelm’d in storm and sand.
The princess nodded gravely, understood

That something ill-wrought was upon them, and
They should prepare f’ whatever it had plann’d
For them. They pulled their cloaks overhead,
And cover’d up their faces, such this land

Could do no harm to them – it might instead
Bring sharper rocks, in order to shred
Their precious cloths ’til they were just a rag
Upon their hide. Th’ idea brought her dread,

Just thinking of such cruel fate would nag
Her in the back of mind. And like a flag
Aflutter in the gusting wind, her cloak
Would threaten to fly off. She made it snag

Upon her hoof, to make it stay. It broke,
The sandstorm, rather soon, which made them soak
In all its fury. Luna, sans word, pled
That this calamity’d not make them croak.
> Interlude II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

To their dismay so great, this storm had spread
Throughout their sight, until the skies were red
With sun so blue, as was before. They shut
Their eyes, t’ avert them from the sand, instead

Of their cloaks, should they lose them. As they’d strut
Through such disaster, she would ask him, “What
Force dares to stop us, even here and now?”
“We’re at the place your sister sent us – th’ hut

Beneath the ground could have protected – how
Could we have lost it? How did we allow?”
She shook her head. “I wish to say I know –
But th’ answer is beyond me. I will vow

To safeguard you, as you have me. We’ll show
The sandstorm that we cannot e’er be slow.”
We’ll go together, never separate,
And keep us in each other’s sight.” “How so?”

“Just watch!” And with a bit of magic great,
She bound the two together. “I would hate
If you had claustrophobia,” she told him.
And then, “Regardless, we’ll keep moving straight.”

She lookt around for th’ cliff, whose sight was grim
From where she was, and took a step – a slim
Wing cover’d up his back, by reflex pure.
His fur a shaggy mess, yet feathers prim

Would give him shelter, where his cloak for sure
Would fail. With her, he surely could endure
The storm – he just had t’ focus on the trip.
One step forth, never back, and such demure

Efforts would yield a victory. A rip
Behind him startl’d th’ baker – ’long his hip
The sand would course, like needles on his hide.
He lookt behind – of course, he’d need a strip

Of fabric to repair the gap. He sigh’d –
Perhaps, if he had thought of just how wide
The gap had been, he would have fix’d it soon.
He shook his head, and kept on as her guide.

His back would find the cliffside soon, one hewn
From sand that prest down o’er time from a dune.
He felt it crumble, ever just, from where
He lean’d against it. Looser sand was strewn

From high-spun winds, and where his hide was bare
Would suffer far the worst. He did not care;
He was quite confident that this would pass
Without more incident. “You’d think I’d spare

Not one bit t’ mend that tear?” A bit of sass
Would tell him that her magic could surpass
The unicorns of where he liv’d. He felt
A pull upon the cloth, and that crevasse

Was pull’d together in her magic, dealt
From her horn, stitching up, which hid his svelte
Form once again. “I thank you,” spake he. “Why
Did you do that?” “Why not?” she said. “I’ve dwelt

In storms of sand myself as well, and sky
Above, I’ll let you suffer not.” A sigh,
And she would add, “Not when I could amend
What I have done to you.” He would reply,

“What have you done to me?” “I would have lend
A hoof to you, in Shade’s Corruption, send
It out your mind, but here we are, in spite
Of all I’ve done within your head – dear friend.”

As though on cue, the Princess of the Night
Would feel his absence – e’en with her spellrite,
They could not be together at each time
She would command. Then she lookt to the height,

And saw her sister there appear. What rhyme
Made this thing possible? What sort of chime
Could summon her here at her magic will?
She thought t’ herself. Might she help in the climb

Uphill? Would she instead preclude? So shrill
The winds would sound within her ear, the fill
Of sand would only block the noise. Her form
Was vague at first, but soon would become still

Enough to form a figure white. The storm
Would seem to settle, though the sandy swarm
Still somehow hid the baker from her view.
The heat, too – it would cool to merely warm,

As though it were a pleasant day. The blue
Princess would hear her sister speak right through
The storm. “I pray you hear my voice,” she said,
Her words echoing through the land. Too true

Her words were – ev’ryone could hear, the dead
And living both alike. And in her head,
She could not shut her out, nor did she wish
To do so – she could only pray instead

That she could hear the other way, cherish
Her words, and offer her help. Like a fish
From water, she however could not tell
Her all her troubles she fac’d. She’d vanish

Before she could begin so, just as well.
“But fear me not,” she would continue, “dwell
Upon the promises of your return.
“I cannot say the same for him – a spell

May work, but it may not. He’ll have to earn
A spot beside you.” “Did he not?” “He’ll learn
The ways of our Equestria, our home, first.”
“’Twas his home too!” “My dear, you need concern

Yourself not what he knew before – his thirst
For knowledge compensat’s for what was curst
Upon him.” Luna ponder’d sister’s speech –
What curse had he encounter’d? What’d be th’ worst

That he experienc’d? Luna had seen each
And ev’ry hazard in his path – their reach
In this land was extensive, so ’twas worth
The pain. “Honeycomb!” shouted she. “Beseech

Her words, if you are able!” Yet the dearth
Of his response did not confide – no mirth
Would show itself right now. “You ought to hear
What I shall say to you. You’ll soon unearth

What you have set out to discover. Near
The top – ” she pointed thus – “it will appear
To you.” “Describe it to me! I must know!”
But Luna’s words went sans an answer mere.

The winds pict up again, and she would grow
Closer to Princess Luna, even though
Her sister might be well unable t’ see.
As th’ apparition lean’d, she saw the glow

And then she spoke again. “You must not flee
When danger rears its head.” Her voice
Took on an unexpected darker edge
“Now heed my words, and soon you will be free.”

And then she lean’d back out, as though a wedge
Was driven ’twixt the two. The storm would dredge
Her visage from the sky, as though she’d not
Existed. Luna noted where the ledge

Would meet the mountain proper – winds had wrought
A pathway upwards. Shouted he, “I sought
Your presence for so long, yet I’d not find
You in the storm!” He truly had been caught

Completely unaware, despite the bind
That Luna plac’d between them, which defin’d
Their amity. “I praid the storm not lose
You, anyway.” “It did not – ’tis behind

Us now, in any case.” “I know that ruse –
It was Celestia, was it not? She’d use
The storm to separate us, just to talk
To one and not the other.” “You accuse

My sister of such doing – what a shock!
But then, e’en I know not of why this flock
Behav’s the way it does. And furthermore,
I tried to speak with her, but she would mock

Me with her ignorance,” she said. “I swore
That she could hear me, just as had before.”
“I’m just glad you did not spill blood,” he said –
“Or otherwise, it’d be much more a chore.”

Luna did recall her warning in her head –
As they proceeded on the road ahead,
They did find other beings, who’d explain
Their pasts to them. To wit, the law-mare shed

No falsehood before, yet it brought her pain;
The recordkeeper made it rather plain
That she would die before she would offend;
The jester sought out laughter – once again,

She fail’d to understand the path she’d wend
Would bring her to a rather hapless end;
The clerk, whom she had found had long decaid,
Was generous to others, not to him – he’d spend

Each moment to his detriment, to aid
Another, should they need; they would be straid
From their path by the hippogryph, Whale-Road,
Who would build a raft of such a grade

That it would speed them on their way; th’ abode
Of Hideaway was hidden well, which’d bode
Not well eventually; in any case,
None of them were slain by their hoof, which show’d

Their lack of bind still to the land – their pace
Was far too quick for them to litter th’ place
As such. “I think we’re in the clear,” she spake,
Although the sandstorm still rag’d on. “Your face

Should still be cover’d up, i’ th’ meantime. Shake
The grains loose; we’ve a newfound path.” She’d make
It clear to him; the wind had carv’d their way –
’Twas just a walk. “My wings need not to ache

To lift ourselv’s up th’ mountain.” Then a ray
Of sunshine pierc’d the swirling dust, and they
Knew that the storm would soon subside.
They brav’d the dying winds, not much to say,

And started winding up the cliff. She ey’d
That, somehow here, the sandstorm had not tried
To overcome the cliff. Up here, ’twas though
It never happen’d, not at all. She sigh’d –

Perhaps if she had brav’d the load, the flow
Of sand would never have been quite the throe
For them. But then, she’d not see sister dear
And hear the words that she spoke, nor to show

Herself to her. In fact, she’d truly fear
That such an action’d make her miss her here.
But with the storm’s help – or Celestia’s – well,
They could advance with all due haste. So near

They both were to their goal, and yet they fell
So far behind, that Luna had no spell
T’ reverse their time spent listening to those
Who shar’d their tales with them, of where they dwell,

And what they did in times before. Who knows?
Perhaps they did impart some wisdom-prose.
But that she’d have to ponder later – now,
She’d have to trace the scent along her nose,

And reach their shared prize. “If you’d allow,”
He said, “I’ll walk ahead, and will endow
You anything I find as hazardous.”
Her graciousness knew no limits; his vow

He’d honor in turn, seeking them out, plus
T’ discover any other way up. Thus,
Their partnership has proven most benign
So far, with barely anything to muss.

Before they left, behind them, where the fine
Sand settl’d, there came creaking of a spine.
’Twas not hers, nor his; rather, the hermit
Had climb’d from his hole in the ground. “I pine

Not for a ruin’d hiding space – I’d split
Before too long; the sandstorm made me sit
For longer than I wanted.” Luna’d ask,
“Do you think we are int’rested i’ th’ fit

Of a mad artist? Go about your task
And leave this place – seek out a hole, and mask
Your presence. We’ll be climbing up this place
To seek out what we’ll need t’ escape, and bask

In victory.” She turn’d around – a pace
Too quick for other times – and made the chase
Vertical. Meanwhile, Hideaway would pack
Just what he needed, then left sans a trace.

“Listen,” Honeycomb said, “I mean no flack,
But what did she tell you? I can’t go back
And try to listen for myself.” “Indeed,”
Replied Luna – although she had to wrack

Her mind to find an answer, fill the need.
“She said nought that I knew, but we’ve agreed
That nothing out to stand i’ th’ way, t’ defy.”
“And yet you mustn’t spill their blood – I’d heed

That warning just as well.” Up in the sky,
He saw that such a long climb was. A sigh,
And he would start uphill. Much steeper than
Before, the path would never modify

Itself, lest they take longer. If they ran,
They’d run a risk of falling off – the tan
Ground show’d its weakness towards the end.
“However,” he said, “we can start to plan

On th’ fact, consid’ring such a recent trend,
That we can count on others to help mend
Whatever problems we would surely meet.”
“O baker,” said she, “don’t you e’en pretend

That that is even true. We should not greet
Another so, no matter just how sweet
That any of them might seem at first glance.
You do remember th’ dragon; don’t you cheat

Your memory! We both gave him a chance –
You know what th’ outcome was. Nay, we’ll advance
Upon the path by just ourselv’s.” “We’re set,
My Liege” – though truly this won’t change his stance.

How far up was it? Luna peer’d, to get
A better view – alas, the clouds’d not let
Her see the highest point. Perhaps, she thought,
We’d not climb the fullest way, I’d bet.

As she went climbing up the path, she caught
Her hoof inside a crevice, one she’d not
See sooner, even if she mind her walk.
She pull’d it free, but knew that if she sought

A safer way, for her and him, she’d balk
At such a revelation. She would knock
Lightly on th’ cliff to their left, and it gave
Not much at all – in fact, a single rock

Would tumble down from high above – it’d shave
Away a small amount, yet she was brave
Enough t’ ignore that. Still, the solar heat
Would start to bear them down. Perhaps a cave

Or two along the way could help them beat
The clime – perhaps, if the air cool’d to meet
Their acclimation, they would agonize
N’ at all. But then, they’d have another feat

To overcome – air thins as ponies rise;
A pegasus won’t e’er say otherwise.
And with it, heat would drop, but not to where
They’d be more comfortable. In the skies

Above them, to the peak, they might not bear
The consequences from the thinning air.
I hope I’ve magic well enough to fix
The complication, should it ever dare

T’ arise, she praid. She knew so many tricks
For other issues, yet no specifics
For sickness of the climb. He said, “Look!
I clearly see how far we’ve gone!” Th’ antics

O’ th’ baker proved well enough to hook
Her sight. And what she saw had left her shook:
They barely made their way along the side
O’ th’ mountain, but the distant vista took

Her breath away. O what a sight her guide
Had found! She saw the raft on which they’d ride,
And down by th’ creek, she saw Serenity
From which ’twas hewn, and further in the wide

View, they saw where many a spring-fed tree
Would grant them rest and shelter, both for free.
And furthest of it all, another splash
Of black dust – Shade’s Corruption? – “A, we

Should be upon our way.” Sudden whiplash
Would make her pause her musings, then to wash
Them out her mind, as though they never were.
But then again, she thought, that might be ash

From Tângroen’s raid, and it was all a blur
In any case. “Let’s go.” And so, with her
With him, he’d keep his lead, and she would trail
To seek their prize – on that she’d bet her fur.
> Book of Harmony, Canto 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they both climb’d, their hoofing did not fail –
She’d ascertain as such. E’en if a gale
Of wind might sweep them off the rising path,
Her magic’d pull him up before the veil

Of fog below consum’d him – and too, she’d hath
The wings to hoist herself against such wrath.
“I don’t expect us t’ make the trip so soon,”
Honeycomb said. “If I could do the math:

By my own reckoning (this evernoon
Denies me), I could carve right here a rune
Delineating how much time had past,
Against how many others we’ve met strewn

Across this land, it comes to just a vast
Amount of time – such number leav’s aghast
E’en the most season’d thinker – and to think
We’ve not arriv’d yet – this trip won’t be fast;

Whereas before, we’ve crost sand sans a wink
Of verticality – and now, the brink
Is nigh, but it’s all uphill, o’er my head.
We struggle ’gainst the gravitation sink.”

“I see your argument,” said Luna, “but I dread
You may have gotten sev’ral things i’ th’ head
Wrong. If you’re to compare the passing time
Of here t’ Equestria’s, you may find instead

That just an hour had past. It may be prime
To see the sun rise, even now.” The climb
Would further on without another word.
And true to what she thought, the heated clime

Would start to cool, if only just. Sh’ inferr’d
This as their progress slight, but how absurd
’Twould be indeed if such a temp’rature
Would be wrought from a meager climb? And third,

Besides the time and clime, she wasn’t sure
If this climb’d bring them to their goal – the blur
Of fog obscur’d the top – or if, indeed,
The mountain itself was what they sought, per

Her sister dear’s insistence. She would need
To ask, eventually, if such a speed
Would buy her time to talk to her again.
And if forsooth she could hear, she would plead

That she grant her solution to this bane
That plagu’d her mind – to spell, in language plain,
Exactly what she meant when she had sent
Them on their chase. But it had been in vain

The first two times they met – she would resent
Her ignorance, but then, ’twas evident
That it was merely inability.
But in the meantime, she would vie for th’ scent

That pointed her along the way, to see
What lied beyond her sight – and she barely
Could see beyond ten times her height, and there
Was much more b’yond the fog, that there could be

Some obstacle that they could dodge with care,
Or simply freezing in the bitter air.
So many dangers she’d foresee, and yet
The ones that would ring true were rather rare.

“Perhaps,” he offer’d, “th’ land could never get
Its cursed reach upon us – such a threat
Would only bother us upon the ground
Below.” “I see that now – but don’t forget

That we know little, even now. I’ve found
That such surprises might not make a sound
Or sign before they pounce, as we have seen
Before.” She pointed outward. “Look around

Us – can’t you tell beneath the veneer’s sheen
That little is for true?” The tranquil scene
Betray’d her words, as though she told a lie,
Or merely was so paranoid. “Between

The lines that separate the hills so dry,
We’ve found that crystal-pony – by the sky
Above, I’ve never known another as
Her, playing tricks with light!” She gave a sigh.

“But who knows, you might be correct. The hike
Should carry us from danger, which would strike
Us where we stand.” They had not halted here;
But then, the base o’ th’ mountain was quite like

A nation in its breadth – and yet, ’twas clear
That they knew it not, ’til she would appear
Before her, telling Luna of her prize
That waited somewhere up on high. The fear

That it would be us’d sooner kept her eyes
Pointed forth. Yet, she thought, were I more wise,
I’d also keep a sharp eye on the view
Surrounding – lest such danger shall arise.

But he was worried not, because so few
Would threaten him, and those indeed that do
She would safeguard him. She saw down below
The wonders and the hazards they went through:

A distant sandstorm ravag’d in a throe
That she thought this time (though she’d never show)
The two would probably not well survive;
To say nought of the dryness – they would stow

Whatever meager bits of water t’ stay alive,
And never know when, on their lengthy drive,
They might find more. “I’ve never seen this sight,”
The baker interrupted. She would strive

For forward motion, but e’en now, she might
Pause for a moment, taking in the slight
Exoticism. Nary there for her
T’ appreciate – the Princess of the Night

Would usher him along. “’Tis but a blur,”
She told him, “but there’s nothing, as it were.
Nought but the same plain, far as I could tell.
Now come along, before your thoughts can stir

Another fit of whimsy.” “Very well.”
He sigh’d. “I only wonder’d, if we fell,
If such a landing would for us be soft.”
“It won’t,” she said. “Upon those thought I dwell –

You do not want to see that end.” She scoft.
“I’ll keep you from that – I’ll hoist you aloft
And back upon the path, if you should fall.”
“I hope you’re right, but it won’t happen oft,”

He said. “I hope it won’t occur at all.”
“I wish the same,” responded she. “It’d stall
Our journey’s progress, when in point of fact
We have no time for error. This slow crawl

Has kept us rather busy, whilst we pact
Delays so endless – it’s as if we slact.”
And then she noted where the path grew slim.
“Shall you proceed, or see where I exact

My steps?” she askt him. “I’ll proceed.” To him,
It seem’d so sturdy – yet he saw her grim
Face, speaking silently that it might not be
As safe as he imagin’d. He stuck a limb

Before him, set it down for him to see
That this ground held so firmly, then lightly
He pranced right across the rocky way.
Then Luna took a step, but did not flee,

As it too held her weight. She did not stay
For long, lest she would stress it further. “Say,”
He said, “why don’t you fly if you’re afraid
Of breaking down the path?” “My feathers fray

I’ th’ wind, and muscles tire,” she said. “I’ve staid
Upon the ground as well, and if I splaid
My wings for flight, I might leave you behind.”
He nodded at her speech. “Ahead’s some shade,

It would appear,” he spake. Indeed, his find
Would bring relief for quite some time – align’d
In just the place to keep th’ eternal sun
Out of their eyes. This land was quite unkind

In general, but rather often, one
May find respite in such hostile action.
“I guess the sun is stationary,” spake
The baker. “A but still, we are not done.”

“Do you think we’ll meet others?” “By mistake,
I’m sure,” he answer’d. “Why? Should you forsake
Me when I need you just as much as I?”
“Perish the thought! That question makes me ache

Uneasily. Of course, it’d be a lie
If I told you that I would hang you t’ dry
In cursed heat and sun. Nay, you will not
Depart from my side, not whilst I still vie

For this our goal. This mountainside may rot
Away beneath our hoov’s, but I will wrought
A path by my own magic should I need.
I made a vow to get you home; I’ll not be caught

Without you – understand?” “With all due speed,
Then, let us make haste to the top!” decreed
Honeycomb – and the shade would make them quick
To scurry ’long the winding path. The need

For that which laid upon the top would stick
Within their mind, but let him with a nick
Of curiosity within his head.
“I ask,” he said, “what do you think the trick

Would be?” “What do you mean?” “Once we both shed
Our light upon the thing, what could be said
About its own appearance?” She would think
A moment over this. “What if, instead,

It were no object at all?” She would blink
And stop right then. “You ask me, on the brink
Of its discovery – ” “No better time,
If you inquire. Whilst you would bask and drink

The river water from below, my rhyme
Had never chang’d,” he spat. “I think it prime
To ask you of the things your sister told.”
“I told you ev’rything,” said Luna. “Th’ climb

Is but the last she mention’d. It grows old,
This argument, and soon we may lose hold
Upon our prize. All that is but the truth.”
“The truth, you say?” a voice that rather roll’d

Across the rock would interrupt th’ uncouth
Words out her mouth before they reach’d their youth.
And on the mountain’s side, the stone would shift
And form into a pony. “Hear my ruth,”

He spake again, “and know no greater gift
Is than that of the truth.” He left no rift
Within the wall; ’twas if he was the wall.
“I did expect no princess here to lift

Me from my rest. Pray tell, how did you fall
Within this realm?” “How did you guess at all?”
He laught. “My dear, I know what happens here,
How others come as well.” In such a drawl,

He show’d to them that they need not to fear
The apparition that would show. “You’re quite near
The place,” he said, “much more than once before.
But you need some assistance, ’twould appear.

To wit, what thing do you two seek? Whose lore
Do you abide by? Tell me – I won’t ignore
Or ridicule.” The two were dumbstruck – how
Could he inquire on such a thing? And more,

What answer would expect he? “Even now,”
He said, “your silence tell me much. A vow
Of silence, is it?” “Not at all,” she said.
“We’re much confus’d of your nature.” “Then allow

Me to explain: my name is Fair Trade, led
A life of relative success. A shred
Of my own memory might still exist
Back in Equestria, but I’m here instead.”

“I know the land’s nature, but don’t resist
My words, no matter how grim. I insist!”
“We’ve figur’d just as much ourselv’s – ” “Have you?”
He interrupted. “I don’t think the twist

Would be so obvious.” The princess blue
Was sick of roundabout talk, so in lieu
Of a reply, she brought her hoof down. “Hey!”
He call’d. “I might not perish, so you’ll rue

Your fall, and only you.” He pointed th’ way
They went before they found him. “On this day
Eternal, tell me: why did you become
Another Fallen?” “What is that, I say?”

“Are you a Fallen too?” “We’re Fallen – some
With grace, and others not. ’Tis but a crumb
I’ th’ end – but I imagine you would love
To hear of life before. ’Tis rather glum,

But if you – ” “We accept! We shall hear of
Your life before.” “But more, the truth above
The tale – the latter you must hear and know,
But just to sate – ” he clear’d his throat – a dove

Flew o’erhead, startl’d by the noise. “I’ll show
You what I was. Once, very long ago,
I led a life as but a peddler, where
I bought and sold some random items – so

Many things left my stand, I did not care
What would become of them. Some things were rare,
And others not – I’m sure I’ve seen the lot
Pass through my stand. I sold them in the square

Each day, and each time I was there, I thought
I would head home that day with only nought.
But to my shock, each time I would at least
Make e’en one sale t’ another, as I ought.

So now you know my background – from the east
The gryphons come, and with them gold that ceast
N’ at all, but even then they’d pick and choose
But just the cheapest. (I would too – what beast

Would otherwise?) In any case, the clues
They leave in their behavior I could use
To my advantage. For just rather small
Bits of their precious gold, they would peruse

And buy the strangest things but not at all
What I would usu’lly sell – a bowl, a shawl,
A box of matches – these they did not want.
But all the same, by th’ end o’ th’ day, their haul

Was much resplendent – they had gold to flaunt,
But did not spend so much. This is a daunt
For some who come, but they? It was their way
Of living, down to how they even spoke to vaunt.

Of course, I buy things too – that is to say,
You can sell me your useless things. I’d pay
A price so fair, regardless of what you
Might bring to me. For instance, if you say

That it’s not rare, I’ll offer ten bits true
You say fifteen bits – I might pay that too.
But if I’ll never sell, I’ll say as much
And send you off. If only you two knew

The value of one’s honesty. As such,
I tell you what my father told: a touch
Of lies undoes a year of honesty.”
“I’ve heard the same,” said Luna, “inasmuch

As one mare of the law has said to me.”
“A yes, of course,” he said – “I can well see
What she meant by her words. At times, I’d think
That speaking nought can help you drastic’lly

More than to speak the damning truth.” A wink,
And he continu’d, “I would say a drink
Of serum might out what you wish to hide,
But better far it is to let it sink

In secrecy. Well, one fine day, I spied
A trinket that I wish’d was at my side –
Not to sell, mind you, but for once to keep.
I call’d the stallion over, then I tried

To buy it from him – twenty bits? Too cheap!
Thirty bits? He’d sell then, but I did not reap
Enough gold to pay him just that, and worse,
He would not take any other. I would sleep

That night awonder how I should converse
If we would meet again. I’d not coërce
At all, that much would never work, but I
Just had to have that thing! I would rehearse

Some lines, to see what might convince, see why
He should part with his thing – but not a lie,
I say, would ever fall out from my maw.
That much is unacceptable.” A sigh

Escapt his lips. “But still, I knew the law,
And this time, I would have a better draw.
I counted out some fifty bits, in case
He rais’d his asking price. The night would thaw

In due course of time, and I had my place
Set up within the square. I would not chase
Him down, O no; I’d seem too desperate.
I waited there for him t’ approach my space.

Nopony notic’d me, and yet I’d wait
For him to come – and after half past eight,
There he would show, with just the thing in tow.
I call’d him in a careful word – too late,

Another peddler had him first, and so
I’d keep on waiting. They went rather slow,
But then he came my way, and to my shock,
He hadn’t sold it after all! I’d show

What meager bits I gather’d up, and talk
Of buying it from him that day. He’d gawk
At what I had – apparently before
He thought me far too desperate, my stock

Reflecting this, and wrote me off a chore
In dealing with – but now? He was much more
Invested in the deal. We shook on th’ spot,
And for those fifty bits, I had my score!

Incident’lly, there was no more I bought,
Nor anything to sell. The day had wrought
My only deal within that moment. Well,
Who was I to complain? To home I’d trot

With it in tow. I did not wish to sell –
’Twas mine for good. And when I got to dwell
Upon the find, I notic’d something odd:
It was a snowglobe, but within the shell

Of glass, it was not white. A simple prod
Would make it swim in tan – a neat façade,
It seem’d to me, for something made of sand.
Of course he charg’d so much – I too was aw’d

At such a curiosity so grand,
And I was glad I had it, just as plann’d.
I lookt it over even more, but found
No more to note. I left it on my stand

As I drifted away to sleep. Around
Me in my head, I saw its sandy ground –
It seem’d so tranquil, I’d stay for all time,
But then the winds pickt up, and I soon drown’d

In scorching heat and dryness. Such a clime!
I thankt the Princesses I knew no rhyme.
I hunker’d down in darkness, waiting out
The end o’ th’ storm, and then I heard the chime

That would announce the morning. Sans a doubt
About my dream’s nature, I’d nearly shout
And wake my neighbor. I packt up my cart
For this morn’s marketing, but on the route

To the square, there he stood – a stallion, part
O’ th’ pack of thiev’s that roam’d the local chart.
He would demand that I give him my prize
Or he and gang would tear me all apart.

I did not bring it with me – by the skies
Above, why would I do that? He’d realize
That soon enough, and be engorg’d in rage.
A swipe of steel would fall me. ’Fore my eyes,

My life would be bestow’d. At such an age
As mine, ’twas little t’ show, but I’d engage
The lot as I fell at alarming speed.
I would continue, with no way t’ assuage

Me as I plummeted into, indeed,
What would become the end. I’d not succeed
In freeing myself from th’ impending doom.
I found myself i’ th’ sand, as all’ve agreed.

Although I noted quite a bit of room
Around me, there was nothing here to bloom.
I found myself so parcht, I had desire
To dig away the dust to drink fro’ th’ womb

Of life, wherever it may lay. The fire
Within me burn’d much hotter than the ire
Of that sun, which I later learn’d would shine
Forevermore. But still, I had t’ acquire

Some water, so that I may live and dine.
I found a source beneath; I drank – ’twas mine!
But then, as if upon a cursed cue,
A sandstorm whipped into being. – Fine,

I thought, I’d sit the newfound mishap through.
But then, it did relent not. – Even you
Would give up on the spot, with powerful
Magic at your disposal. O so few

Were mercies – heavy stones to hit my skull,
And sand to choke and blind you, ’til you’re dull
In ev’ry sense. I call’d out to the void,
But nought would answer me. Barely able

To hunker down, I put my face, t’ avoid
The worst, into the sandy ground, deploid
Whatever way might fasten me, t’ oppose
A further wrath. I may’ve been paranoid,

But such would save my life, I knew – these throes
Were merciless, but e’en such a thing knows
That it would not last for all time, and soon
I could walk free again. For now the glows

Of blue o’ th’ sun above could well attune
Me in the darkness of the sandstorm, strewn
With those curst particles. I thought I saw
A pony walk. I call’d out to the loon,

Who thought it somehow wise to break the law
Of nature, brave the storm. And yet my maw
Would fill with sand before I got the chance
To speak. I watcht him closely, and voilà,

It was a phantom all along. To prance
Through such a foul disaster, sans a glance
To one’s surroundings – that is most absurd.
But it would soon be lost, whilst I advance

Upon first light, for mine own sight was blurr’d
But how you can imagine – not a word
Need to describe. I thought that I would drown
Within the sand, and that I’d not be heard –

But when I heard the winds die down,
I stood again and saw a dusty town
With not a single pony out of doors –
Which left upon my face a sullen frown.

Perhaps, I thought, I’ll cross these sandy shores
And meet the townsfolk – and with luck, indoors
They’d have an answer for my questions grand,
Be it on high, or e’en beneath their floors.

With grace, I set my hoof into the sand,
And then another, moving ’cross this land,
Steadying, to keep myself from sinking in,
As I trotted into this strange town, and

I rapt upon the first door – of an inn.
When th’ keeper answer’d, I would bear a grin
And ask about the place. But he was stern,
And sent me off without a clue t’ begin.

T’ another house I’d go, and I would learn
That ev’ryone here was so hostile. Yearn
For answers, but they’d not provide. To me,
’Twas though the others’ trust I had to earn

First. So I staid outside, for them to see
That I was friendly, friendly as could be.
After some hours, one would step outside –
To tend a garden in the back. With glee,

I would approach and ask her if she tried
To keep them in the shade – but when she spied
Me hov’ring o’er the wall, she gave a shout
And ran inside. I did not follow stride,

But askt her what the matter was. But out
Her mouth came just the word: “Outsider!” Doubt
Would linger of reception – there was fear
So certain of my nature – what about

Me caus’d such sudden panic? Something here
Compels them, that is true – but rather queer
That I cannot pinpoint it anywhere.
And then I saw him – th’ elder village seeër,

Who saw me wander in the streets sans care.
He call’d to me, and I would answer there
And then, to my surprise. He said he’d know
That my place in this realm was not i’ th’ square,

But someplace different, much more holy. So
I had to ask him, ‘What do you mean? Show
Your secrets!’ He said, ‘I have not much time
Left in my life – allow me to bestow

This secret – such a secret of this clime
You must remember well.’ No pantomime
Would do it justice, so I vow’d to him
That I would memorize – ’twould be a crime

Otherwise!” Fair trade paus’d. “This one is grim.
Are you so certain you will hear the hymn?”
“I am,” spake Luna. “As am I,” he said.
“Quite well – I do not speak this on a whim:

This is Nihilia, Land of Fallen – dead
Is ev’ryone you’ve met and seen. Your head
May still try to fool you, but do not let:
Embrace the truth about the land instead.

When we fell down here, we would get
Up not again – for we have died. And yet,
You wonder, howe’er do we breathe and live?
We all do, for a time – but then the threat

To be forgotten creeps upon us – it would give
Us life, their memory, but th’ attentive
Ones know that they too will forget those past,
And when they do, their form will not forgive

Th’ amnesia – it will crumble at long last
Into the sand that you see in this vast
Plain, gath’ring up within this growing pile.
If you’re among us, she would be aghast,

Your sister – how again will she e’er smile?
To say nought of your moon – for all the while,
She’ll need manipulate both sun and it.
There’s no escape, no matter what the wile.”

“But there is more to tell,” she said. “To wit,
How did y’ ascend this mountain? What culprit
Told you that tale fantastic? Fallen – right!
Why should we both believe? You must omit

A truth.” “But I do not – for in your sight,
And ’neath your hoov’s, there lays the dust. The height
O’ th’ mountain here composes of the dust
Of Fallen, too.” The Princess of the Night

Was still unmov’d. “Fair Trade, I cannot trust
The words you speak – in point of fact, we must
Doubt ev’rything the ‘seeër’ said to you.
Dissolve, forgotten? Simply, that’s not just

At all!” “But,” said he, “take a closer view
Within the sandy wall – they may be few,
But smaller bony fragments still remain.”
She peer’d into the stone, to see it true –

And found a lower jaw embedded. Pain
It must’ve felt, when it would fin’lly deign
To break apart, along with all the rest.
She said, “I do not wish to see again –

Once is enough.” “Indeed,” said Fair Trade, “best
It is to see it once. Believe now, lest
I show you something grimmer.” “That would leave
Another question,” spake she. “Why’s your nest

Along this pathway? What does that achieve?”
“Because,” he said, “i’ th’ town, I’d not receive
More help from him or others – said that my
Integrity would keep me well. Naïve

As that might sound, my fate was in the sky
Above, if you imagine. I’d have to ask, “Why?
Why does my honesty affect my soul?
What more say you?” He gave a weary sigh

And told me, ‘Up that mountain, in a hole,
There lies a place for you. Now that that stroll
With all due haste, lest you disintegrate –
Important times will come; you’ll play that role

Eventually.’ ’Twas all he said; I’d hate
To leave you hanging, just like that – my fate
Was here this time entire.” “It seem’s a throe
Within its own right – how long was your wait?”

She askt. “I cannot say,” he told them – “though
I do imagine I’d experience th’ flow
Of time as little as I could. It could
Be days, it could be years – I’ll never know.”

“Are others on this path?” he askt. “So good
A question!” Fair Trade offer’d. “Why, there should
Be more, but you’ve not found – nor I, forsooth.
It’s likely there are more along – I would

Peer ’long the cracks within the walls; its truth
May still be found within, just as a sleuth
Might peer in ev’ry nook and cranny. See
If you succeed where I have fail’d – your youth

Eternal should keep sharp your senses.” She
Admitted later on, it did help. “We
Will keep your wiser words in mind,” she said.
“But still, we hope to answer freedom’s plea.”

“You’ve better luck than I, for we are dead –
You might revive yet, whilst I stay instead
Forever ’mongst the Fallen.” With that speech,
He merg’d again within the rock, sans shred

Of proof that he was ever there. “To each
Their own,” the baker spake. “They could still teach
Us something more about this cursed land.
I guess we’ll have to see.” “Yes, when we reach

The top, and find our key to new life – and
Then we return to our lives. No more sand
Or silly tales – trust me, we shall prevail!”
She set upon the spiral trail, plann’d

On moving forward, without stop or fail.
Honeycomb would reluctantly avail
Himself to the important task along.
At least here, in the shade, the mountain trail

Would not be subject to the heat, so long
As it would stay – which, he thought, would be wrong
T’ imagine, for not long they’d come around
Into the sun again – and then, the throng

Of heat and sand begin once more. The ground
Already felt so coarse – which bade not well, he found.
And then, they came in eerie silence – th’ air
Was very still, no wind to make a sound.

He felt his hoof come down on sand. With care,
He lifted it away, and saw right there
That he left not a hoofprint in the place.
She senst it all as well, but did not share.

He tried to speak, and though he felt his face
Contort t’ expel the words, he heard no trace.
She tried herself, and only silence heard
Between the two. They quickened their pace

T’ escape this part o’ th’ mountain. Then the herd
Of two could hear the flight o’ th’ desert bird.
“What was that?” he would ask. “I never thought
We’d find a place where you’d not hear my word.”

Spake Luna, “Nor did I – what being wrought
This joke upon us? – Why, if I had caught
The Fallen culprit – ” “Easy, Princess Mine!
We’ve other things to worry of. We ought

T’ return to th’ task.” The princess sighed. “Fine.
I’ll leave – but should it happen down the line
Again – ” and said no more about the curse.
Although, she thought, we neither saw a sign

Of who conjur’d it, things could have been worse.
We ought to see the brighter side, traverse
The obstacle, arrive unscathed. Near,
She saw the sun – or rather, where’d disperse

Its scorching rays. She stretcht, and felt the sheer
Heat on her leg – she sigh’d, and pact her fear
Away. Behind her, he would feel the same
Pain for himself. She thought it’d disappear

In passing time, but sooner felt the flame
Lick at her hide. They had their cloaks still – same
As they were when she conjured them first.
She donn’d hers, then gave his. “How’d you reclaim

These?” askt he. “I did not – we had them erst;
I kept them fully safe and never curst.”
“They’re dry, however,” said he. “I’m unsure
If they’d survive the wasteland’s heat. Their thirst

Does threaten us.” Said she, “Along this tour
We’ll find some water, if to quell you poor
Guide.” Yet such aspirations might not come
Fulfill’d, she thought – I’ll find another cure.
> Book of Harmony, Canto 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then Luna thought of something rather dumb:
Instead of magic, maybe they went numb
To noise within the shadow of the place.
But how could that work here? How could become

The silence from the lack of light? A trace
Of logic could be found not here; its base
Did not exist. But Luna would forget
Not what the land could wring on them. Her face

Would squint, deep in her thought – but no thought let
Itself into her mind, about th’ onset
O’ th’ wonder they had found. She would concede
In due time, and resign herself to what may yet

Approach them. Maybe Luna had agreed
With her first theory, so with all due speed
They soon would end up in the shade again.
Perhaps there, she would find what she would need.

For now, though, they would face a diff’rent strain –
Th’ eternal sun shin’d down upon the twain,
And with it, heat would make them burn and boil
Away. Much as before, they’ve tried in vain

To hide themselv’s away, but all that toil
Did nought to block the elements. It’d foil
Their efforts, this curst land, and make the two
Suffer as though they were stuck in the coil

Of life and death. “We’ve come so far – the hue
O’ th’ sand is well obscur’d!” he said. She knew
The reason why – another sandstorm came
To ravage through the land, but not accrue

And climb up very high. She knew its aim,
But not its strength, which she found rather tame.
She ponder’d such a cause, remember’d from
Before then – what or who was here to blame?

She never found it, but instead, the calm
Assur’d her, some things should not cause a qualm.
She had to focus not on falling off
The cliffside path. “I think I see a palm

Ahead,” he spake. “Do you think just a quaff
Of water it could spare?” Then she would doff
Her hood to lean in closer to its root.
And with a hoof, she dug – and with a cough,

She let the dust to settle first. With brute
Force of his kind, Honeycomb made her scoot
Aside, and dug i’ th’ sand himself. And soon
He found his hunch was right – water would shoot,

Or rather trickle, out from ’neath the noon.
“I guess you knew,” the Princess of the Moon
Conceded. “Drink your fill, whilst we’ve still time.”
And greedily he did – he would attune

Himself to th’ coolness of the drink. The clime
Demanded such; it would have been a crime
To waste e’en one drop. Luna took her fill
As well; she found herself in need. The climb

Was long, and she would need whatever will
Speed her along the way – e’en with her skill
Of flight and magic, both of which were rare
In later times, she would conquer the hill

With him alongside. Fair Trade mention’d there
That his compos’d of Fallen, worse for wear
Once they’re forgotten. All the sand below
Was once alive as ponies, creatures – fair

The afterlife may be, but they’d not know
Their fate, unless one would observe the throe
Another underwent. But that was not
Likely – so Fair Trade had some luck to show

When he found that old seeër, who had taught
Him this land’s truth. No matter how they fought,
They could not win against their coming fate.
They should surrender, suffer as they ought –

But Luna was nought if she did not hate
Such grim eventuality. So great
Her will and might was that they came this far,
In spite of what it tried to do – its weight

Was feather-light upon her back; no star
Within her mane would wink away or mar
Her beauty. Neither would her righteous guide
Surrender to the sand and heat. “We are

Still far away fro’ th’ top,” he said. She sigh’d –
Of course he’d focus still on th’ darker side.
“But that’s no cause to stop,” she spake. “Instead,
We should keep on the move.” So she had tried,

But she could not shake th’ thought that she was dead.
Why should it matter, when up on ahead
Salvation waits now for us both? The speech
Inside her skull encourag’d her – it pled,

It begg’d, it e’en commanded, it would reach
Within the deepest caverns of her psyche, teach
Its wisdom in a way that would ingrain,
But it could not dispel what would impeach

Her courage. This malfeasance brought her pain
She could describe not, yet she would not deign
To tell her guide, and burden him with more
To worry of. And yet, she felt the strain

Upon her visage. “Why do you ignore
And hold it back?” he askt. “I do abhor
It when you do that.” “Then what must I do?”
She would return. “I’m sure you should not store

The answer, and not give.” “Then you do, too.”
She sigh’d, and spake to him, “I wish I knew
How high we have to climb – if any way
That we could find and take would not construe

Another curse, or even cause delay.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” vow’d he. “We’ll not stray
Off our path, so long as I mind it.” Well,
Who was she to deny? “If so you say,”

Replied she. “The worst would be if I fell
And rose not from the measure.” “I can tell – ”
He pointed with his hoof – “I cannot see
The whole way to the base, so let’s not dwell

Upon such nightmares, aye?” “Agreed,” said she.
She nodded and went on ahead. “Our spree
Should not be interrupted by the worst.”
He said nought – thus, consider’d th’ matter free.

She thought of Fair Trade – he might be the first
They’ll find upon this trail – but what if erst
They mist some other ponies? She’d not think
Of them – they’d just delay, as would their thirst.

She set her hoof down harshly. In the blink,
The rock gave way. Her irises would shrink
Away, as she saw her impending doom;
And far from out her sight her guide would wink.

’Twas over in the instant – she would zoom
Straight to the bottom of the cliff. What gloom
She saw, as fog would cover up her sight!
And then she felt her spine – what little room

She had to move around. Nothing would smite
Her, long as she would breathe, yet in the white
She felt such blinding pain along her hide.
With effort prodigious, she sat upright

And lookt along her legs – and then she eyed
The open wounds, which stretcht along her stride.
To say nought of her wings, her back, her head –
The only thing unscathed was her pride.

“Is that you?” he call’d. “I thought you were dead!”
“I may as well be,” shouted she. “Instead,
Could you assist? My wings are wounded bad,
And magic could exasperate the shed

Of blood within.” Said he, “I thought you had
A way or two to save yourself. Be glad
’Twas only you who fell – and not I, too!”
He carefully made his way, just a tad

Bit down, before he understood it true.
“I’ll have to fetch a cord – but if I knew
Where I could find, I’d bring it over here!”
And then he’d disappear from Luna’s view –

For good, it seem’d. To think she’d lay in fear
Of second death, which drew now even near!
But he, the peddler, did not speak of how
She’d die before amnesia made her veer

Her life and turn to dust. It’d not allow
It premature, but rather, suffer now
And for all time – and further, as the dust –
She could not picture such a fate! Her brow

Would shut her eyes, so she’d avoid what must
Come someday, praying to him that her trust
Be not misplac’d. She saw her blood ran fast
Across her fur, and soon she had t’ adjust

Herself – she laid upon the ground. At last,
A bit of that relief so sweet, so vast.
There, she could only watch the fogged sky
Swirl in a pattern she knew not. Time past,

And she knew he’d not come. She breath’d a sigh
Of anguish and frustration, and askt, “Why
Does such a fate befall me?” She would shift
Her weight. “By all Equestria, who had I

Anger’d?” She felt the wind stir, letting drift
The lighter sand-grains in the air. I’ th’ rift
Within her skin they burrow’d, causing pain
Beyond belief. She praid he had the gift

Of scavenging as well, that he’d abstain
From those distractions on the path. In vain
She praid, for he indeed return’d, without
A thing to help her. “Do not try again!”

She shouted up to him. “I have no doubt
You’ll not succeed the second time!” Her shout
Was faint to him, it seem’d, and she would fear
That he’d not hear, and set off on the route

Again. Her injuries were most severe,
So fair luck hoisting herself out of here.
But now, she saw the only option – thus,
She clamor’d on her hoov’s, against the sheer

Amount of pain, which kict up quite a fuss
As she struggl’d against the cliff – boldness
True ’twas, and it paid off f’ her, when she found
Small holds within the rocky cliff-face – plus,

She did not fall far ’fore she hit the ground
Below. Her efforts did work to astound
Him, but that was not her intention. Soon
She was upon the path – not safe and sound,

To ascertain, but it was still a boon.
But he would have to cross th’ ravine, one strewn
With sand and sharp rocks, which struck fear in him.
“You’ve better luck than I,” she said. “Attune

Yourself not on the length, but on how slim
It truly is.” But still, he saw how grim
His fate could be – the sight of her could spell
The end – to leap this chasm, on a whim,

Was rather difficult. On that thought he’d dwell
For sev’ral moments more – what if he fell
Within? But then he saw th’ advantage of
The cliff-face, gave a running-leap – a spell

Of newfound courage hoisted him above
The drop, and ran him ’long the cliff. He’d shove
Himself off at the end, no worse for wear,
Unlike his liege, for whom his loyal love

Propell’d him right to here from over there.
He said to her, “I answer’d not your prayer,
And I regret this true.” “You did your best,
I’m sure,” replied she. “Truly, I don’t care.

All this is temporary – I’ve had rest,
E’en in the pain; now we continue th’ quest.”
Her hide was bleeding still, which stain’d her cloak
A darker shade. O how she could be blest

With healing, yet her magic would evoke
A worse wound in her head, so she would soak
Her robes. (In time, she found that she’d not bleed
Away entirely, not when she was spoke

Of in Equestria.) O what mighty need
She had f’ relief! Her body disagreed
With her surroundings, and she knew she had
To let the sand from out her scars. The tweed

Of her cloak did no favors either – mad
Her back was; it itcht all the way. A tad
Of suff’ring ’twas, compared to the heat
That it protected her from, so sh’ was glad

She had it on her back, as if to cheat
The land of further pain. She found it neat
That little victories like these can stave
Off further curses. More, she found it sweet

That e’en with all it’s done, she still could brave
The land and all it has t’ inflict. The grave
Had nought for ruth, but she would show the same
To th’ land. No matter what, she never gave

Up hope. She praid that they would know her name
For even longer – not that she became
Obsest with her own fame; the memory
Would be her lifeline to her home and aim.

Said he, “I ponder how much further we
Have yet to go – e’en now, I barely see
The top o’ th’ mountain. After such delay
You stumbl’d on, My Liege, we shan’t be free

In due time.” Luna sigh’d – “Soon comes that day
When we step back into the dawning’s ray.
Abandon not your hope – although, I’d use
A bit of kindness – ” “Kindness, do you say?”

Another voice spoke forth, as though a muse
Had heard her speak. And then, within their views,
The sandy rock would crumble yet again.
And out from where the sand fell was the ruse –

Another pony, borne from out the strain,
Emerged from the cliff. She saw her main
Along Luna’s form. “What encounter’d you?
And all those wounds, too! Why would you abstain

From mending yourself, dear?” Before she’d spew
An answer, this mare took her arm – a hue
Of gold would hover over where her fall
Had cut her open – and before her view,

The sand would vanish from the cuts, and all
Of them would seal – not e’en a scar would crawl
Along her hide; ’twas though they never were.
Luna had nary t’ say; it would appall

Her, th’ process – how could this be? Such a blur
Of golden sunlight work’d a magic, sure,
But she’d not seen it done with measur’d grace
Like this! “I thank you, healer, for my fur

Is new again,” she said. “’Tis not your place
To mend what I have caus’d myself – ” Her face
Grew dour, and Luna saw that she would not
Accept her words. “You’ve kept a rapid pace

Without much mind about the wounds you’ve brought
Upon yourself.” Before she spoke, “You ought
To be more careful, don’t you see? The path
Is merciless and unforgiving, fraught

With dangers you can’t always find.” “Its wrath
We’re well aware of,” Luna said. “The bath
Of sand we’ve well been ‘washt’ in – furthermore,
We’ve met some hostile beings – th’ aftermath

Is something we discuss not. ’Twas a chore
T’ arrive a’ th’ mountain – now, howe’er, our score
Lies high above, amid the very peak – ”
But she would silence her. “Whatever for,

My dear? I promise you, the thing you seek
Will still be there when you arrive. So bleak
Your mood is – let me help you, Princess Mine.”
“You still remember me?” “You should not speak –

You spake enough as ’twere. I shall align
Myself to you, to offer you a sign
Of trust. Of course, my name is Solar Rain,
And I know you, My Liege – and this benign

Guide, who are you?” “Honeycomb Splat – my main
Goal is the same as hers. We hope in vain
We don’t arrive.” “And you seem trouble’d, just
As well,” said Solar Rain. “Tell me your pain.”

“I’ve truly none!” he said. “In fact, we must
Be on our way. We thank you for the trust,
But we’ve not time to spare.” “I’m sure you do,”
She said, “you can’t fool me – I’ve never fust

O’er those who did not need my kindness true.”
The baker gray lookt to the princess blue,
But did not speak a word, nor would she talk.
“O come now,” said she, “I’m sure you’ve been through

The worst this land has t’ offer t’ you. You walk
Through storms of sand that blind and choke, on rock
That cannot stay cemented with your stride.
You brav’d these dangers well, which makes me gawk

At what else you’ve encounter’d. By your side
He has remain’d, in face of all, his pride
Not once to falter.” Then she shook her head.
“But even he can never last – ” she sigh’d –

“Forever. Even he should rest, instead
Of tracking onward, even more ahead.”
“If you insist,” conceded Luna. “So,
What shall we do here, seeing we can’t tread

Uphill for quite some time. What do you know?”
“I think I know as much as you – she’d show
Us something from her life before sh’ expir’d.”
Her face turn’d red. “I really should say no,

But just for you.” She clear’d her throat. “I’ve tir’d
Of holding in my words, as though requir’d
By other ones to put aside my grief.
But now you’ve given me the chance desir’d

To vent – I hope you don’t change your belief.”
“We won’t,” he said. “Then I will not be brief,”
She said in turn. “I once was known in life
For bringing forth a miracle – in chief,

I’d heal one hurt with my own magic. Rife
My time was, with those looking for a wife
Like I, but I chose not to bind by vow.
But even so, it only caused strife

Wherever I would go. They would allow
Me use my magic, then, once they saw how
I would rejuvenate, they would not leave
Until I promist them I’d not leave now

Or ever. O how they would plead and grieve,
But kindness true I’m sure would well achieve
Another promise.” “I’ve had someone quite
Like that encounter me,” he said. “My peeve

Is much the same.” And Solar Rain askt, “Might
They be identical?” “I’m sure the sight
Would tell you otherwise.” “In any case,
She then continu’d, “then came that one night,

When one I had rejected found my place
And waited right outside. In all his chase
He never gave up – seven months would see
Him to my bed. But if he thought my face

Would light up, he was gravely wrong. O me,
The things I could have done to him, but he
Would not bring forth my wrath. I simply told
Him I would never take his hoof. His knee

Grew shaky, weary, as if he were old,
And he would then ask me if I could hold
Him up. I did, and set my hoof upon
His leg – but found no fault. My magic gold

Would never work if maladies were gone.
I askt if he was sure he was no pawn
To loneliness and solitude. And hey!
He was – but I could never fix anon.

But he was not the first, as I shall say,
Nor e’en the last. There hardly was a day
I did not see one who would only wish
To stay forever by my side. I’d stray

From common roads, as though a misplac’d fish.
I still would help them, so they’d not perish
From maladies they’d otherwise not cure
By their own hoof. Howe’er, when I finish,

Despite my efforts true, they’re never sure
That I had heal’d them, e’en when I assure
Them otherwise – they always wanted more,
But never thought that always they’d endure

Alone again. In any case, before
They got ideas in their head, I swore
That I would help them, just that only time.
To spoil them on my magic I abhor.

And then another day, I heard the rhyme
That up among the Crystals was a prime
Chance for my magic. There, the Crystal King
Had taken ill, and so it’d be a crime

T’ reject him in his need. I vow’d to bring
My best to him, and set off to the thing
I’ th’ north. I would arrive in ill;
It seem’d the Empire whole would cling

To life just barely. But still, my kind will
Would not resist to help, and would instill
A bit of hope, despite the ones they’ve lost.
I took a hoof, and workt my magic skill –

And found the malady was of the frost
That crept up on the Empire. He’d accost
Me with the little gold he had, but I
Refus’d. He’d not believe that such a cost

For something that would save was nought. A lie!
He must have thought, but nay, I would not try
To cheat them – kindness is its own reward.
But then another one would happen by

And ask the same from me. I’d not afford
To lag behind, to their dismay. I’ve scor’d
Th’ attention of the king; much as I’d love
To help the others, he came first. His ward

Would keep the others off of me. Above
His tower soar’d, high as this mountain of
Whose top you’re climbing to. And at the base,
Their crystal heart would radiate the love

They all had for each other. I would trace
The lines upon the crystal floor, which’d lace
Th’ entirety o’ th’ empire, then would head
Up in the tower, in the royal place.

And there, within the bedchamber, so dead
To th’ world that he heard me not, was that red
One – or was he magenta? – anyway,
He seem’d glad that I came. And then he pled

Me for my skill, which I’d oblige. I’d say
For him to keep still, then I would allay
Th’ affliction. Magic show’d that he had not
The love of other crystal ponies – they,

By chance upon a sudden second thought,
Did not have that love themselv’s either. Wrought
From something else, th’ emotions were. I felt
The same fro’ th’ other pony – this had taught

Me what the nature of the illness dealt
To those that were afflicted. I had knelt
Down to the window, t’ see solutions that
Would not present at all. And then I smelt

An odor foul from down the hall – of fat
That burn’d within the nighttime, which begat
A bad reaction from me. If I knew
Where it came from, I would avoid, but that

Was not quite possible. And in my view
Within the past, I saw the heart, its hue
A perfect white. I askt, upon a whim,
If that was normal. I was shocked too

When he would bolt right out of bed. ’Twas grim
What I had said, apparently. So slim
His form was, yet he mov’d like a young colt
And moved down the stair, so full of vim.

I’ve never seen another pony bolt
So fast before or since. If they’d revolt,
He likely would react much slower. Still,
I met him at the tower’s base. “You dolt!”

He told his aide. “O why did you instill
Such panic ’mong my subjects?” His voice shrill,
I could not hear much more than that. I staid
Away from him, and let her stand the thrill.

After a moment, then came here the aide,
Who askt me how I saw. ‘I simply paid
Attention to th’ surroundings, looking for
Some clues to aid me in my work. – Afraid

Of him, are you?’ ‘I quite am – such a chore
He is to deal – ’ I comforted the poor
Mare then and there – and then I saw the spark
Of love ignite within her, then a roar

Of that same love erupted. She said, ‘Hark!
I feel atop the whole o’ Equestria!” Th’ mark
Upon her flank would shimmer in the light
With love within. No longer would the dark

Of their despair permeate throughout; they might
Find hope in darker times. Their heart of white
Would turn a skybound blue, to radiate
The gift of crystal love, and more, to smite

Despair wherever it could find. I’d hate
To say I needed more to lift such weight,
But truly I did – for he’d now desire
To keep me in the Empire. That’d sound great

To you, but I did not intend to stay and tire
Myself in healing-work all the entire
Day long. I said as much, but he’d not take
That for an answer – he had yet t’ acquire

A wife for himself; e’en though he could make
A crystal mare his own, he’s not partake
In marriage ’til he found the proper mare.
Apparently, that would be me. It’d ache,

My heart, to stay away from home, but there
Was nothing I could say that’d make me rare
I’ th’ Empire. My work was done, I would tell,
But he would find more, just to keep th’ affair

From ending. In his sentiment, I fell
Off from a balcony, and heard a yell
Of panic.” She sigh’d. “Then I woke up here.
I figur’d from the start that I would dwell

Among the dead forevermore. So blear
Th’ appearance was, that I could never steer
Myself in quite the right direction. So
I wander’d, quite some time. It would appear

In due time that my magic could not sew
The others’ bones together, nor would slow
The bloodflow from the skin. It was as if
Their fates were sorted out before I’d show

Within this land. A gryphon got a whiff
Of my existence, found me, rather stiff
From my exhaustion, then told me about
A place where the good go – namely, this cliff

You see before you. I askt why my route
Should take me there, but he would simply spout
Off nonsense of my kindness, which, whilst glad
To hear, did help me not t’ resolve my doubt.

And yet his words would echo through me. Mad
It drove me, to the point that I just had
To seek it out, and answer such a call.
It took so many days, which, might I add,

Is hard to track when they don’t end at all.
In any case, once I would brave the thrall
Of other ponies, beings, sandstorms too,
I came upon this very rocky wall –

The same one that you see in front of you.”
“And that is where you end this story.” “True –
But I shall say, the passage of the time
I’ th’ interim was great, and I grew bor’d

Eventually. A pleasant change fro’ th’ clime
So dry and hostile, yet in such a climb
I felt some better weather – which I mist
When I would be interr’d in here. My crime

Was nought, and yet I had a lengthy list
Of deeds to my name – thought I.” “You’d resist
The boredom all this time,” said Luna. “Pray
Tell, why did you accept at all, insist

On wand’ring through the land?” “I would, but nay,”
She said, “I wisht to walk free than to stay
Amongst the Fallen. I suppose ’tis not
Meant t’ be, so I’ll see you along your way.

You know my tale; let none such more be wrought.”
“Although,” said Luna, “it does stay the rot
Of guilt within your mind – is that not so?”
She deeply breathed. “It does – but how ought

This to help me? I’ve shown you kindness – ” “Know
That kindness is a two-way path – you show
It t’ others, they show just to you the same.
You’ve heal’d my wounds, and now, your mental throe

Is no more – we have heard; you have no shame.”
And Solar Rain did nod at her words. “Claim
A better deed, you cannot. You’ve done good.
But now the cliff calls me back. May your aim

Be true, and may you never falter!” “Could
You not join us?” he askt. “I wish I would,
But here’s my place, and nary other. Fare
Thee well, My Liege and guide!” And as she should,

Her form would meld within the rock – and there
Was not a trace of her left. With a prayer
Silent, she wisht her all the best – and soon
She took her leave, with him in tow. Her lair

Would be alone forevermore, the noon
Forever keeping watch. Some sand was strewn
Along their path, which told of higher gale.
She praid that other sandstorms were not hewn

From such conditions. Yet the mountain trail
Would take them to the shadow, where the veil
Of shade would blot the ever-burning sun.
So Luna listen’d if the quiet’d avail

Itself, as it had earlier. Yet, ’twas none.
She thought to stamp the ground, but knew what fun
She had the first time she would be such fool.
Instead, she drug her hoof, and heard it run

Along the ground. Perhaps, she thought, ’twas cruel
Fate that we suffer’d from its unjust rule –
Which makes me all the eager more to leave.
I feel no thirst – at least we won’t refuel

For quite some time. I just hope I’d believe
Her right – I won’t know if I do achieve
The prophecy she laid out before me.
Or it could be that I’m far too naïve

To roam this land and not know when to flee
From danger, where such danger possibly
Could be. But then, she had her steadfast guide
Beside her, ev’ry step o’ th’ way, to see

Her to the end. She swallow’d up her pride
And prais’d him in her mind – for he had tried
So many tricks of his own – magic? Nay!
He had the earth-borne strength he took in stride.

Of course, she did as well, and more to say,
Her horn and wings, but she’d admit that day
That his strength trumpt hers, nothing more to tell.
She could pull him fro’ th’ fall, if he should stray

Too far to th’ edge, and tumbl’d then and fell,
Which otherwise his early death would spell.
O this she fear’d the most, more than she’d face
The things this land would bring – to hear his knell

Before his time. “Why do you keep a pace
So fast?” he askt. She saw then that she’d chase
A thing unseen along the cliffside route.
The baker kept up this whole time. “Your Grace,

I beg you, slow yourself!” And right about,
She did – and suddenly she felt burnt out,
About as bad as he. His heavy pant
Betray’d exhaustion – that she had no doubt.

At least, she thought, we’re in the shade – so scant
These blessings are, forsaking them I shan’t.
What was I thinking, trotting on so quick?
I did forget my guide, to gallivant

Without a care in all Equestria. Pick
Your next words carefully. “I was quite thick,
Was I?” she asked him. “I do regret
To tire you out. Next time, I won’t be slick.”

To her relief, he nodded. “Let us get
Another stop,” he said. “With all this sweat
Along my form, I think it’s rather time
To sit within the shade – we’ve long way yet.”
> Book of Harmony, Canto 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They took in their surroundings, in a clime
Much cooler than before. She knew the rhyme,
And askt, “Do you sense quiet within the shade?
I heard nought earlier along our climb – ”

“I know as well,” the baker said. “We made
No trail within the sand as well. Its aid
Perplexes me, e’en now; let us not dwell
Upon what may cause such a thing.” He laid

In the shade a bit longer – just as well;
She ought to relax too, this she could tell.
Her pacing was so quick, for she would fear
That they’d arrive too late. E’en with a spell

To take them there, she reason’d that, o’er here,
With him, she would have comp’ny and its cheer,
And since he had no magic like her horn
Conveid, she may as well become his peer.

“I think that’s long enough.” His voice was borne
Upon a breath that lact fatigue. She’d sworn
That he would rest for longer, but forsooth,
He was again upon his hoov’s. “This thorn

Within your side does bother me, t’ speak th’ truth,
And though I lack the spirit of my youth,
I’m as determin’d firmly as before.”
Said Luna, “Surely you speak not from ruth,

For if you are, then it’d be more a chore.”
“I’m not,” he said. “In fact, I’ve more in store
To help us on the way.” “I hope you’re right,”
She said – and firmly took a step once more.

The shade was as close as they came to night,
And morning was around the bend in sight.
He would adjust his cloak, and she the same,
As they would tread into the burning light.

And burn’d it did, as though a wicked flame
Lict at their fur. But it still felt so tame
Compar’d to other horrors of the land.
Just from her head with ease, Luna could name

Another danger – like a storm of sand,
A lack of water for them to drink, and
The worst o’ th’ lot – the false-wrought imagery
Black Widow show’d to them, a lie so grand

She still could not forgive. Out there, she’d see
The sparkle of her wicked light; with glee
She thought them safe from trickery like hers,
And then return’d to th’ climb. “I think that we

Have not much more to go – my vision blurs,
But I can see the top from here.” The spurs
Within his words would urge her further on,
But she could not confirm his claim. The whirs

Of wind above would scatter clouds; the dawn
Would pierce the sky and cover too. This pawn
Before the clime so harsh could never hope
To make out where they ought to go. “’Tis gone

Now,” he confest. “And on this rocky slope,
We ought to mind our step – who knows the scope
Of damage on the road up to the top?”
She nodded grimly, in her mind to cope

With how she greatly misjudg’d such a drop
Before. The end was not a simple hop
Away, that much she clearly, fully knew,
But getting there took quite some time. She’d swap

Her place with nopony – lest they go through
The same the two had in their stead. Her view
Was clouded over with her mercy, yet
She saw her logic on th’ event was true.

But she would not give up, for such a debt
She owed to him she would never let
Lapse. “If it’s any comfort,” he would say,
“We’ll find the shade again, and we’ll not sweat

For longer much.” She saw his cheerful way:
The spiral shape o’ th’ path would never stray
From out the mountain – rather, it would pull
Them inward, making each loop shorter. They

Would find the solace in the shade; the lull
It gave to them would leave them very full
O’ th’ soothing cold. “And yet,” she would explain,
“Until we reach the top, it would prove dull

To wrap around the final place. Sane
We might be not when we arrive, in vain
Most likely.” “But do not lose hope!” he cried.
“How many more had tread this path? This bane

Is ours, but ours alone. Some may have tried,
But they’ve not made it, so let us have pride
On coming this far.” Luna nodded. “So
It seems,” she spake. “I hope you have not lied,

But then, there are no prints i’ th’ sand to show.
Perhaps you may be right.” The status quo
Of silence would not be disturb’d for quite
Some time, as they would venture on. “I slow –

I tire so suddenly,” he cried. “I wrack
My limbs for effort, yet they are but slack.
If such a steeper path means quicker climb,
Then I would choose the fairer road.” Th’ attack

Of her fatigue would sing her the same rhyme.
She struggl’d onward, even more, but time
Would prove her weak in any case – she fell
Upon her belly, having felt the crime

Inflicted on her form. O what to tell
Of their misfortune – neither moving well
Ahead, and held up here within the heat!
She rais’d her head, and let an earthly yell

Escape her throat in uttermost defeat.
“I give up,” she said. “There’s no way to cheat
Th’ inevitable. We’re stuck here for sure.”
“But I do not,” he argu’d. “I’m just beat

And starv’d for strength, ’tis all. The only cure
For this is rest, for just the time – just pure
Rest – ” “Even in the sun? Have you gone mad?”
“We’ve nowhere else to go, so we’ll endure

The elements for now, as we both had
Before.” Another word past not to add,
So Luna thought of how they could o’ercome
The obstacle. But ev’ry plan turn’d bad

For both of them – to name just a few, some
Involv’d her flight or magic, not a crumb
Of either to be sure, and others could
Be sour’d by something unforseen – how dumb!

But give her time enough, and Luna should
Yield something that would prove them rather good.
But nothing came to mind, no matter how
She prest herself to think – she never would

Conjure solutions viable. She’d bow
At last to such futility, and now,
She turn’d to her guide, askt “Have you a way
To conquer what should stand before my vow?”

In answering this question, he would say,
“Perhaps what we seek should itself display
When we speak of it. Think of how before
We pull’d two ponies out the wall. We’d stay

To hear their tales, then they would have in store
A thing to answer sev’ral questions, or
A pathway we’d not see in other case.
Think of the possibilities! What more

Could they provide?” “But here, within this place?”
She askt the baker. “I see nary trace
Of life within the wall. I rub it here,
And nothing happens. I should laugh!” Her face

Would start to laugh, but soon would stop, for near
Another voice erupted. “Never fear –
Forge Hammer has arriv’d!” And very soon
A crack appear’d within the rock. A sneer –

Nay, smile – would form upon a face. The noon
Did not disturb it, and a stallion hewn
From rock would stand before the roving two.
Before he spoke, the Keeper of the Moon

Would ask, “How did we find you here? My view
Must play some tricks on me.” “That much’s not true!”
He said, his voice so chipper. “I exist!”
He sounded like the jester they went through

Along the way. Said Luna, “I insist
That you not say a word if you assist.”
“As you command.” He sounded rather hurt.
“Belay her words,” the baker said. “Resist

Th’ authority – for now, at least. She’s curt
When tired, and we’ve been walking with effort
Enormous, both of us.” “So I can see –
And you two must have found where you exert

Much more than what you wish. You cannot flee
This challenge with your luck or trickery –
The hard way is the only way. I’d tell
You otherwise, but that would not put glee

On your face for much longer. Just as well –
I see you’ve fallen earlier; did you dwell
Upon a fork within the path?” “We’ve not seen such,”
She answer’d him. “’Twas rather just a spell

Of my misjudgment.” She laught. “Just a touch
Upon the rock – ” “Nay, that was far too much
To call it ‘just a touch!’ the baker cried.
“Ah, that will work as well – impatience’s clutch

Can spell your early doom. I would deride
Your efforts, but that’d not be nice.” He sigh’d.
“What shall I do, what shall I do? Perhaps
I’d cheer you up, but maybe someone tried

Before.” “Indeed, that is the case,” she said. “A lapse
Within her judgment kept us in her traps,
Which may have lost us time.” She shook her head.
“We shouldn’t have stopt – Minute Mirth well saps

Our vim before our eyes, and in its stead
Instills an artificial joy. I’d shed
It ’fore it poisons ev’ry part of life.”
“Ol’ Minute Mirth?” He laugh ’til he turn’d red.

“She never understood quite right that life
Is rife with conflict – be it with your wife,
Or mother, or a stranger, always know
That any time you will encounter strife.

I laugh in such a horrid face – to show
Your fear or anger, that’s what it seeks. So
Laugh! Laugh well, friend; ’tis how you can withstand
The troubles of the world, whatever throe

Comes for you.” “Yes,” she said, “we understand
As much, but that’s not helpt us much in sand
And heat and gloom.” “Perhaps the reason why
Is simple: you’ve not tried, have you two? And

Why not? What cost has it of you? The sky
Is infinite, as is the day so dry;
You’ve fac’d some hazards on th’ unbeaten path,
So why not find some jollity? Just try!”

“But how can we?” askt Luna. “We know th’ wrath
O’ th’ sandstorm – drenching us within a bath
Of blinding, choking sand.” “I have as well,”
Forge Hammer said. “And yet, the aftermath

Of such events does not perturb – no spell
Can harm me, least of all the place I dwell:
Within the steadfast stone above the ground.
Have you too felt such comfort? Come now, tell!”

“We’ve not,” Honeycomb said. “We’ve rather found
Its treachery before we reacht this mound –
But here, we’ve found sharp drops, a winding road,
And e’en a place behind the hill sans sound!”

“O that – of course!” he said. “In my abode,
I notice much the silence same. It show’d
That darkness also blocks out sound – ” “But how?”
“I wish I knew, but I accept the load

It bears upon me.” “So you seek not now?”
“I don’t – what diff’rence does it make? Endow
Me answer for that, why don’t you?” She peer’d
T’ Honeycomb, yet he shrugg’d and rais’d his brow

T’ respond. “Of course not – but don’t find it weird;
It makes no diff’rence – that’s the point!” He sneer’d,
And then continu’d, “Don’t you find it odd
That ev’rything must have a cause? Inher’d

This truth must be in all the ponies, broad
Across Equestria. Maybe you’d applaud
The mystery instead? It might benefit
You better than the answer you would prod

The dead for.” Spake the princess, “We’ll not quit
So soon, smith.” “Au contraire – that’s not quite it!
Instead, I do encourage you upon your quest –
But first, would you care for me t’ submit

My tale to you? If you hear, I’ll impress
You with the rest of my heart and mind – lest
You may go on sans word o’ th’ road ahead.
And who are you t’ ignore?” He truly prest

His words against their ears. “We three are dead,
So time is not important – ” “Yet instead,”
Said Luna, “we seek to be sav’d fro’ th’ end.
I’m sure you know how fast we have to head

For that to work.” “But ’fore you round the bend,”
He interrupted, “maybe you will spend
A moment longer, just for me to speak
My story.” “Yet another of this trend?”

She askt the baker in a whisper. “Seek
An out for this, if you are able. Th’ peak
Will not wait for all time.” “But why not hear
What he has got to say?” his voice as weak

Replied. “Perhaps there’s something over here
That we could use.” She sigh’d – perhaps her fear
Was true, that she could reason not with him.
Thus, she resign’d herself to sitting near

The blacksmith. “Very well!” Already grim
To her, he would begin. He stretcht a limb
And started, “Once, beyond this very land,
As I am sure you’d know, so full of vim

Unlike, I workt as someone simple, and
Found satisfaction in my work. So grand
I thought it t’ be, but you not spare no thought
In any other case – for you to stand

In labor ev’ryday, you’ll need it wrought
So pure and strong, and in the right shape – not
A simple task, forsooth! I was a smith
For shoes, and I would shoe whoever ought

To have them in the field. It is no myth
That lucky horseshoes do exist, and with
The proper work, they last for years to come.
Of course, its truthful use is block the pith

Within your hoof from turning stiff and numb.
Be you on earthy farmground, or on some
Floor wrought of marble – ” he would glance at her –
“A shoe does but one job, and not a crumb

Of one either. So now I did incur
Familiarity, and not a blur
Within your mind, I’ll tell you of a time
I met a rather stalwart stallion, fur

As black as mine. He never knew the rhyme
Of pain, and not because he had the time
T’ encounter harm – rather, he fac’d it all
And likely never notic’d. This such clime

Might not affect him, t’ tell the truth; the fall
Would not disturb his sleep; the sandy thrall
He’d handle as you two would simple fog.
In any case, he had poor luck befall

Him, when he tried to split a piny log;
He sought me out t’ reforge his shoe. My dog
Announc’d his coming, not that he had need,
The shaking of the ground from just a jog

Suffic’d. And when he came in, I’d take heed
Of what he wore already, to succeed
In shoeing him with just the right amount.
I askt if one had luck, and he agreed –

In fact, all four of them did. By my count,
They seem to have been reforg’d, on account
Of wear, so many times, they might not be
The same shoes he got the first time. I’d mount

His hoof upon the stool, and pried it free.
I took the shoe into the fire; on three
He stood for sev’ral minutes, since it took
Me rather long t’ reforge what he with glee

Would damage shortly after. He forsook
My sound advice t’ replace, and sounded shook
At e’en the thought. I askt him, ‘Why do you
Insist on ancient shoes?’ And by the book

He would respond, ‘I’ve taken up the view
That nothing bad can happen with that shoe.
I ask you, forge it strong, and once again
It will safeguard me from the world.’ So few

Have ever otherwise spoke, but I’d not feign
My int’rest, not at all. I knew their pain
Of losing something they so love; their joy
Was all that matter’d, second e’en to th’ same

Job that I did for them. I did enjoy
To spread my cheer, and as a smith, my ploy
Was perfectly plaid – I ne’er had a one
Who’d enter, get shoed, and become annoy’d

By what I do – they too would like my fun,
But obligations fro’ th’ farm made them run
Out soon as I would finish. – What a shame!
If only they could stay when I was done –

But then, I’d not shoe quite so many. Th’ game
Continues, ever-onward, ev’ry aim
Alike: to serve the betterment of all.
But I would add a bit of wit so lame

Into the mix. I said to him, ‘The fall
O’ th’ leaf approaches – can you hear the call?’
He would respond not. I would try once more:
‘Already I could sense the coming squall

Of winter – ’ He would stop me there: ‘This chore
Took long enough; shall you reforge all four,
Or need I take your place?’ This took me back.
I’d not been spoken to like that before.

‘Good sir,’ I would ask, ‘do you truly lack
A lick of joy within your soul?’ The crack
Of his voice would appear to me with ease.
I must have prodded something that would wrack

His psyche. Spake he, ‘’Mongst the piny trees,
I’d work to cut the strongest down, not tease
The bark so I’d release its sticky sap.
These shoes you forge all protect me from these

And other dangers in the wood. No map
Could guide you out, if you’re caught in its trap
Of memory. I’ll always know the way
By how my shoes are shap’d. They aren’t scrap,

If such thoughts entered in your mind. Nay,
They are what keep me grounded here today.
I’m thankful for the luck they surely bring –
So once again I ask: will you allay

My founded fears, or shall I ever sing
My grief?’ I sigh’d, and started on his thing.
A bit of steel welded what threaten’d to
Split down the middle. One shoe, fresh as spring,

I’d hammer back onto his hoof. Then two,
Then three, then four, the total that he knew.
He firmly bow’d his head, and then he’d leave,
With ten gold bits upon my anvil too.

The urgency with which he left did weave
A bit of curiosity. That eve,
When all the others had retired to their bed,
I went into the woods, so I’d retrieve

An answer. In this forest fraught with dread,
I had so many horrors in my head
About what lurkt within, from out my sight.
To my relief, I would find none. Instead,

I would not find anything, to my fright –
I wandered lost in the dead of night!
I sought the stars above, to navigate
My way back to my smithing shop – the light

Within the sky shone not, at any rate.
I tried to find the pine-stumps, then head straight
To th’ village – but the first part I found hard
With ev’rything untoucht. I would await

My fate within the forest, as the starr’d
Sky taunted me with lack of light – soon marr’d
By th’ ever-sweeter morning light at last!
Still I was lost, but I could see the yard

With clarity the night withheld. So fast
The lumberjacks return’d to work, ammast
Together where they were the day before.
Of course, they crost where they cut in the past,

So they would find me at some point, and more,
Show me the way back to the village. Sure,
That’s what I wisht would happen, but my thought
Was false, and fate had something else in store.

Another pine tree fell, and soon they brought
The chains to drag the log. These chains were wrought
In iron so hard, e’en I could never craft
A stronger link. I thought them perfect – ought

I to hitch on for a ride back, like a raft
Adrift amid the river.” Suddenly he laught.
“Of course, that never workt out quite that way.
Instead, that same log fell where I, the daft

Smith, stood. I fail’d to hear, and would delay
My movements for too long – which is to say – ”
“Yes, we quite get it,” Luna told. “You would die
Beneath its weight.” “Exactly – they would slay

The one who made their shoes to work – and why?
They never would expect me standing nigh.
My curiosity would make me fall
Into th’ eternal sleep, and they might try

T’ revive me, without much success. For all
They’ve done, I could not hear the living’s call.
’Twas just a simple blink, and then I’d see
The wasteland that you see as well. Your shawl

Protects you from the sand, but as for me,
I only had my forging-skill and glee.
I hop’d that someone out here would assist
A wand’ring soul like I, so I could flee

This fate so horrible. The land’d insist
That I would suffer – yet I would persist
In face of brutal sandstorms, burning heat,
And sun that shone forever long – the list

Goes on, you get the point.” “We’d even meet
The same ourselv’s,” Honeycomb said. “We’d cheat
Them just the same.” “Indeed – and soon I’d find
This mountain where we stand. O what a treat

The river was!” “The very same behind!”
Said Princess Luna. “It had well align’d
Us on the uphill path.” “And too,” he said,
“The sweetness of the water was too kind

In keeping us alive on th’ trip ahead.”
“In any case, it led me here. O’erhead,
Its peak was shrouded in a cloudy haze,
Yet something of it pull’d me. I’d tread

The trail for just an hour, and in my haze
I thought I found a cavern. O my days!
Perhaps I’d rest here, just an hour or two.
And yet, a moment past before my gaze

Would find you standing here – the Princess Blue,
And baker gray – I’m guessing you are through
Upon your way to th’ top. If we may pair?”
“We think you shouldn’t,” Luna caution’d. “Too,

I’m sure you cannot leave from out that lair.”
“O nonsense! Just watch this!” And out from there
He took a step, and saw that his form would dissolve.
He would retreat, but it would not repair.

“I see your point,” he would admit. “I’ll solve
This riddle when I can, and then resolve
To join you up ahead.” “Perhaps you can’t,”
Said Luna. “Even so! – I’ll not absolve

My own responsibility. I might enchant
Myself t’ withstand the elements, or plant
A charm within me, carry out the task.”
“But that’s unnecessary, even scant.

Nay, we will handle this ourselv’s. Just bask
Within the rock, and we might well unmask
The prize to you eventually.” “I hope
You are right – fare ye well!” Into the cask

Of stone he would recede, until the slope
Was smooth again. “I will say this – to cope
In such a hostile place is quite the skill
Indeed, and I am thankful for his rope.”

She pointed on ahead. “And yet we still
Have such a long way, so let us instill
Some concentration on the forward path.”
He nodded silently, and up the hill

They would traverse. “Of ev’ry wrath
Equestria has, I never thought a bath
Of wood would be so gruesome,” he would speak.
“Indeed,” she said, “I’m sure the aftermath

Was grisly. Let’s not speak of this, nor peek
Within the past.” “I do not wish to seek
A scene upsetting.” – and he spoke no more.
They would ascend, but still the mountain peak

Remain’d so firmly out of sight. They’d bore
Of the climb, yet they knew that such a chore
Prov’d necessary if they were to be
Alive again. As they went, the trail wore

Thin in some places. “Be in front of me,”
She would insist. “I’ th’ fall, I’ll pull you free.”
He nodded his assent, and would walk on.
She carefully would step where he had – she

Would take no chance, unlike last time. The pawn
Should break the stone first – if he need, she’d spawn
A grip around his middle, then she’d set
Him on the firmer ground again. Then gone

Was the light, bringing forth the shade, to let
Them cool – and cool they did, when they could get.
The princess sigh’d in her newfound relief,
As did the baker, letting forth his sweat.

But their relief did not mean stopping – brief
Their pause was, ’fore they advanc’d. In chief,
The mountain top was still so far away,
That they’d arriv’d not was beyond belief.

Along the path, she reminist, we’d say
A few words t’ those who beckon’d us to stay
For just a moment – then we’d hear their tale
Of life before they died. Try as they may,

They can’t return with us. And now we’d fail
The gryphon, Glister, back along the trail.
And now, I must regret our sacred vow –
Unless a second answer would avail

Itself, he simply would be left to bow
Before the wasteland’s harsher clime. And now,
He would dissolve soon as his memory
Would leave him – maybe if I would endow

Him longer life with my mind, he could see
Until the end of time itself, and flee
What we cannot avoid. The same applied
To all we’ve met so far, so far as we

Can tell. The dragon, Tângroen – well, I’ve tried
My hoof at reason, yet we were inside
His cave, so he would never entertain
An argument of logic. Then she sigh’d –

No matter what, we two could never deign
To make them three. By choice, or this land’s reign,
That plot has e’er been foil’d, so we did not
Bring yet another with us in this plane.

What’s more, the cursed land is also fraught
With dangers of its own – the winds had wrought
The storms of sand, although they are beneath
Us now, and far away, but we, too, fought

The heat and sun eternal. In my sheath
Of heavy cloth, I could avoid the teeth
Of daytime – but my guide would suffer true.
Her heart would weigh her down within the wreath

Of night-blue fur, and further threaten’d to
Stay her steps. He would see her falter too,
And ask, “My Liege, what weighs you down again?
Perhaps the sight that stretches out from you?”

“’Tis not,” she answer’d. “Rather, ’tis the pain
Of memory – of those who would disdain
Our harmony; how, if they could accept
What binds us all, they never could retain

My judgment.” “Hearing their words’ poison crept
Into your head does trouble me. I’ve kept
My own complaints t’ myself, but now I speak
In worry. Do not help them, just accept

That they are lost to harmony. The peak
Awaits us, don’t forget the thing we seek
In any case.” And he would move – the sun
Awaited on the other side; a shriek

Of sudden pain alerted her sans fun
About the change in light and shade. She spun
Her head, and saw that he had stept within
A rather hot patch of sand. Never one

To stand by idly, patience worn so thin,
She took him up upon his back. A grin
Would spread across her face, to show to him
That this was nary trouble, as ’t had been

For her before, that he need not feel grim.
With him held fast, she stretched out her limb
And set it down upon the ground. The heat
Sear’d through her hoof, but she, with vim

Untold and unforeseen, would further beat
The sand down with each step. The land would treat
Them with no mercy, but she did not care –
They had a task to do, and they’d not meet

An obstacle they could not cross. The air
Was dry, and sunlight bright, but over there,
The promise of that liquor sweet would call
To her – and too, she thought, I’d also spare

Some for my guide. Against the stony wall,
She laid him there; he felt no pain at all.
Then she would dig away a’ th’ sandy ground,
But this time, found no water. She’d appall

At such discovery, that she had found
Nought to endure the climate. She would pound
The trail in her frustration, but soon stopt
Herself from going further, lest she drown’d

In pain from falling of the edge. She hopt
The baker on her back, then she would opt
To keep on moving. Yonder there, the shade
Would help them cool, and as the light had dropt

Away, the intervening darkness laid
Across her vision. Soon the baker weigh’d
A lot upon her – forthwith, she would set
Him on the ground. The coolness it displaid

To him would comfort him – it would beget
A calm reaction, one of stretching. Yet
Despite the previous pain, he was still keen
On emanating from the shade. She’d fret

For his own health; however, he’d the sheen
O’ th’ wonder of the youth right in between
His irises. He seem’d impatient, too –
Even without an utterance, and e’en

Without a gesture, he was clearly through
With halt and go sans end. He would accrue
The energy to take the lead, before
The Princess of the Moon. And soon, into

The light once more he went, as if the chore
Bore no pain on his back. The sandy floor
Did not inflict pain on him once again –
Perhaps the scorching heat could never soar

As high as they had gone, or maybe th’ pain
Was much reduc’d, as callouses would reign
Upon the skin. Whatever it may be,
The curses of this land would not sustain

As much where they were. Nothing here to flee
From, nor, forsooth, nothing to help them see
Their final end – so hopeless it would seem
To her, with not a wile or trick that she

Could use to help her pierce the dreamy seam,
Nor any detour she could see, nor stream
Of water even to relieve their thirst –
And yet, with such dismay, she could not scream,

Lest she could cause an avalanche – the worst
Case she could conjure in her mind. At first,
All hope had seemed to be ever lost –
But he would speak, and then she felt the burst

Of hope from deep within: “You feel you’ve glost
O’er something you should not, and that the cost
Was much too great. Rather, I am right here –
I’m all you need, and nought more to accost!”
> Book of Harmony, Canto 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With spoken words so hopeful, Luna’s fear
Would dissipate, soon be replac’d with cheer,
Or something like it. “And besides,” he said,
“You’ve made your vow to me, and you’d adhere

To each one of its words – e’en if we’re dead,
We’ll not let such a fact to loose and spread
Throughout our minds. I soon will take the lead,
And you shall come, and we shall get ahead

Of anything that dar’s t’ oppose – agreed?”
She nodded her assent. “So now take heed
Upon the path before us – follow to
The end; ’tis rather simple, yet we need

To make haste – ” “E’en in face o’ what she told you?”
“O, Solar Rain? What she said’s nothing new;
I pray she is correct about the fact
That we walk lonely up this hill, but true,

I fear that we do not, so such a pact
Between us two ensures the artifact
Is used I’ th’ right way. Now, shall we go?
We can speak more along the way.” His tact

Betraid his hurried haste, so Luna’d know
To travel ’long with him, and not too slow.
They met the sun again; howe’er, this time,
He did not cower back from pain – to show

His weakness at this point, in such a clime
He’d grown familiar with, was a crime.
Besides, he surely knew that cooling shade
Would come around to the two in due time.

But then she would remember, as they made
Their way around, the darker side would fade
Into a thinner strip. It signal’d where
They were, but Luna too was quite afraid

That soon they’d have no dark for them to share.
And worse, as they went higher up, the air
Would heat up greater than the far-neath ground.
And even if, she thought, I do not care

About the clime or climb, I’ve truly found
My guide is weak – but who am I to sound
A word to voice my pain? I’ll sooner keep
My silence as we climb upon this mound.

And soon I will awaken from my sleep
Call’d death. I just need focus not how steep
The climb may be, nor how far I have come –
And then she err’d, and saw the drop was deep,

Much deeper than she found before, and from
Then on, she kept her gaze up, not become
So frighten’d of the all-too-likely fall.
To take her mind off it, she felt the sum

Of hot air. “Let us make our way, be done
With sweating like a water-fall.” But none
Of them would take the step – frozen in place,
They found the slightest movement nary fun –

E’en with the goal within their sight, the pace
They’d travel with would not quite be a race.
With each step they would take, they could retreat
Two more, or even three, until the space

Between the two and down would vanish. Th’ heat
Would then consume them, driving out the sweet
Taste of their victory. But they’d not dwell
Upon such thoughts so grim – they would not eat

The crow so soon, and even if she fell
Off th’ edge some time ago, that painful spell
Did not dissuade the two from venturing
Onto the peak. ’Twas not that he could tell,

But th’ baker had within his gut a thing
He never could explain. He heard it sing,
But not with hunger – rather, something odd
Was coming forth – whatever could it bring?

And when would they meet? As the two would trod,
He kept his mind so focust on the broad
Range of dangers that he could face. Would he
Encounter dragons? What if he should prod

At something that’d give way? If he’d not see
It coming, he praid that it’d not take glee
In causing pain before his coming fate.
And what would Luna do when on this spree

She’d be alone? Of all, he’d mostly hate
Th’ imagination of what would await
The Lunar-Princess. He got her this far
Without a fail – and now, at any rate,

He ought to finish what he started. Par
With qualities his family would mar
N’ at all, he swore he’d see her to the end.
No matter what would come, or what could mar

The cliffside path ahead the two, he’d send
The threat away however. He would lend
His treasur’d life, if that was what it took.
“I wonder how much further til we wend

To th’ top o’ th’ mountain,” said he. “I’m mistook
If I would say that we’ve not much.” “But look!”
She pointed with a wing. “Mind not the fog
That blocks our view – we can still overlook

Th’ entire land. We needn’t even jog
To reach the top, for we see not a dog
Nor bird nor tree nor anypony near.
It’s just us two, and though the path may clog,

That much is just another setback, dear,
And for that much you do not need a seeër.”
“But even so,” he would at last confess,
“I sense a coming danger, one that’d veer

Us off the path and to our doom – unless
We stop it.” “Do you know what sort of mess
We now approach?” “I cannot say for true.
That much is all I know about the stress.

Forsooth, I really haven’t other clue!”
She would assuage, “I’m sure you have no view
Much better than you, baker, would describe.
If that enumerat’s the record, do

Not panic – I can oversee this tribe
Of two.” “I hope your powers would not bribe
Your strength,” he said – and then he spoke no more.
His throat still hurt, he wanted still t’ embibe

The rarest treasure – water – anymore.
He suffer’d constantly, because the poor
Guide realiz’d how long it had been when last
He took a drink. And now, his tongue was sore

From much the same dryness that plagu’d the past.
And furthermore, to think, across the vast
Height of this mountain, there were no more trees
To indicate a source? He was aghast

At such a revelation – then a breeze
Would break his concentration with such ease.
He shiver’d as before – e’en with the sun
And its heat beaming down, the wind would tease

Him on the uphill mound-climb. O what fun
It was to bear against it! He was done
With folly-weather, and he had to rest
Someplace where they would never be disturb’d.

Such places were so few, he thought it best
To stick much closer to her. As her guest,
He yet had some restraint, but that would thaw
When heat pict up again. He then regrest

Away from her, removed his cloak. She saw
How hot he was, and with her wings, she’d draw
Its coolness, which safeguarded her dear guide.
The winds blew by, and with it all its raw

Heat. Then she found a cave, within the side
O’ th’ cliff. With no more choices, she then pried
Their way within. The darkness there would cloak
The two, until her magic horn had tried

To light th’ interior. Soon the place awoke
With sharper rocks from down the roof, which broke
With just the slightest touch. He lookt around,
And found barely a place to sit. “What joke

Is this?” he askt aloud. “This stony ground
Does poke me in my – ” “As you might have found,”
She’d interrupt, “this cave is undisplac’d
By anyone who’s come this way. No sound

Does echo through its halls. We may have fac’d
A dragon last time we were here, but bas’d
On such a time, I think us safe right here.”
He stampt a hoof, and heard it as it trac’d

The cave. No other sound would fault – he’d hear
It otherwise. He said, “It would appear
That you are right. But down where shall I lie?”
“I’ll answer that!” And with such a severe

Swing of her leg, she knoct aside the dry
Sharp stones, which made a clearing for th’ ally.
He rested on his belly, took some air,
And let it out ’n a rather silent sigh.

’Twas dark and cold, but not as cold as there
Outside – the wind would enter not. The pair
Were safe and sound, so far as they could tell,
Fro’ th’ elements. With that settl’d, the mare

Reclin’d as well beside her guide, and fell
Upon the harden’d ground. “We’d have to dwell
Here for some time,” she reckon’d. “On this pass,
The winds are ruthless; I have not a spell

T’ eliminate the threat.” Forsooth, alas,
As she’d articulate, a gust would mass
Outside the cavern, making exit quite
Impossible. The land could still harass

The pair, e’en as they shelter’d from its sight
In total darkness sans a blink of light.
The baker praid that this was all it’d do –
And furthermore, the Keeper of the Night

Watch the mouth o’ th’ cavern, so the two
Could well avoid some further danger. True,
She had the power and vim to shape the gale
Around them both – and yet, the princess blue

Had only so much magic – she might fail
And seal their fates. Even her starry tail
Would become ragged in the blast of sand,
As she found out at one point. Thus, the stale

Air of the cave would be their haven, and
There simply was no changing that. Unplann’d,
He broke the intervening silence. “Shall
We speak of even sough, or will this land

Curse us both if we do?” He spoke so small,
And yet his words were grander much than all
Equestria. So she would decree, “I say
There’s nothing that this land can do – no fall

So high, nor sandstorm blinding, can delay
Us for all time – so why not speak? The way
Is cut off, merely for the moment now.”
“I’ve told you of my time, and you’d display

To me the same. We know each other – how
Much more to tell? If only you’d allow
A lie – I could conjure a tale that’d knock
You back upon your tail; I would endow

You with fantastic tellings – ” “But such talk
Compar’s not to what’s happen’d on our walk.
So tell me – what more is there of you?” He
Had nary answer – not at first. He’d lock

His maw whilst he would think about what she
Would next hear. Finally, he gave up. “We
Would be most entertained if you told
Of yourself first,” he said to her. “You see,

My life is unremarkable, and old
As you are, you should have much more in fold.”
Said Luna, “Be that as it may, I’m sure
You’re still left some excitement – so be bold!

Speak more about your past! Perhaps our cure
Is hidden in your words.” “But on this tour
I’ve told you ev’rything – about my mark,
About my family, e’en about th’ allure –

Who was she? Sark’e! – who would never hark
The fact that I had married be such stark
Indication that I’d forsake my wife.
And then again I’d find her, little bark

And nary bite. Of course, you know that strife,
As I had told you earlier. Why, my life
Is unremarkable. What more should I
Say?” Luna sigh’d – at least her time was rife

With such adventure, e’en discounting why
She was here with him. “Whilst I pray the sky
Subside with its assault, I shall invoke
Another point within my living. Aye,

’Tis not one I’d’ve told before. I’ve spoke
It to my sister, true, but make no joke:
What I shall tell to you – ” And then she saw
The winds outside had died down. She would poke

The mouth behind her, feel the air sans flaw,
And know that ev’rything was still. Her jaw
Would jut down – when she notic’d, she would shut
It with a hoof. He, too, would hang his maw

At such a sight. “But still,” he told her, “what
Were you about to say?” And Luna’d strut
To th’ exit, but she turn’d around and spake,
“’Twas most embarassing. At a banquet

In a Hearths-Warming past, we had a drake
Invited over, as a gesture. He’d take
His time in coming over – when he did
Arrive, we somehow cover’d by mistake

The entire venue. Soon we all were rid
Of his presence – and they’d answer no bid
T’ return. A shame indeed – we bear alone
The blame.” The baker laught aloud, amid

Her words. “Such silliness fro’ th’ Lunar throne!
Of course, I envy not, but you have thrown
Such jollity – ” he could not end his phrase
Before he burst again in laugher. “You were prone

To clumsiness, both you and sister. Raise
The sky whilst you’re ahead!” “I take it praise,
Then?” “Yes indeed!” A moment longer, then
He’d catch his breath. “Though now, the solar rays

Do beckon me t’ approach and leave – and when
I do, and when I leave behind this den,
We’ll not stop – ever – ’til we reach the end.”
He stept, but something far beyond his ken

Would stop him in his place. “What sort of trend
Is this?” he askt aloud. “Could you please vend
A bit of magic?” Luna tried her horn –
And yet, no matter what, she’d never lend

A bit of help to her guide. “I’d not scorn
You quite so soon,” she said, “for I have sworn
Your safety for your guidance – yet it’d seem
We must part ways here. I shall not adorn

My words with sugarcane – this dual team
Must now become just one. The mountain’s scheme
Has chosen you, but not I, to stay here
For some cause unknown.” Luna’s tears would stream

From down her eyes, as she would realize, near
The top, they’d have to separate. “But fear
Not, Princess Mine!” he cried – and he would shove
The entrance – yet it never would appear

Even one iota out the way of
Him and effort his. Then he lookt above
And saw his cutie mark, engraved there
O’erhead the pend. It fit there like a glove.

He sigh’d. “This is the end for me, I dare
To say,” he said. “I do not mean to scare,
But you were right, the mountain’s chosen me
To stay. I pray that you’d not linger, stare

At me – what point is there, when I’m not free
Again? You think I’ve still a chance to flee?”
“Nay, not at all,” said Luna. “But I pray
That your return is too at hoof. Your glee,

Your guidance, and your loyalty, I say,
Are most valuable. I’d not give away
Such treasures quite so soon, but all the same – ”
He merely nodded. “Yes, and sans delay

You should take leave.” “But this delay’s no game,”
She answer’d. “Tell me, dear guide – have we came
This way entire to split apart so close
To th’ end? I cannot free you – such a shame –

But tell me more of you, whilst such a dose
Of that nostalgia strik’s you. You’d engross
Me with your ev’ry word, as much as I
Would do to you, as you say. These cosmos

Are never always fair, this is no lie;
I’ll miss you terribly, as true as th’ sky
Above so blue and bright. I’ll know I’d fail
In setting forth upon this quest – so nigh

We came as well!” She could not see through th’ veil
Of tears that clouded up her eyes. She’d ail
With melancholy so severe, she’d keep
Her place before the cave. No sand so stale

Could make her cry like this, nor lack of sleep
Produce results – for she was far too deep
Within the friendship. “Look to th’ brighter side,”
He said. “Without me, you could fly and leap

About without a thought about me. Pride
Yourself upon your wings – the feather’d ride
Could take you to the peak, and even more,
If you had magic quite enough inside

To teleport your way there, then this chore
Of yours is nought!” These thoughts, just as before,
Would tempt the princess – yet each time she’d use
Those things, it gave her drawbacks that she’d swore

She never had. “Much as I’d like, I’ll refuse
All th’ same,” she told him. “You have seen the clues
About th’ effects upon my form. My wings
Grant flight, and swift at that, but I’d abuse

The feathers with the sand, ’mong other things.
So flight is right out, I would think. – Which brings
Me to my magic – O my head does pound
To think about its use! The magic springs

Quite little nowadays, and I have found
It gives me quite a headache. E’en the ground
Within the cave, to light it, gave some pain.
And teleporting, like you said, is bound

To use far more than simple light.” Her mane
Had lost its shimmer, and deflated – slain
By grief and sadness. “Have you more to say?
I should leave rather soon, before the strain

Of time becomes too much.” “If you’ll delay
A moment more, I’ve one request. The day
Shall come when you return, but know my son
And wife have ought to know the truth, so they

Can eas’ly rest, to know that I had fun
With you I’ th’ afterlife. Th’ eternal sun
Might shine down on them, but not me – for this
Cave does protect against what’d make them run.”

“That much I’ll do,” said Luna. “I shall miss
You dearly, friend, and know that you brought bliss
To desp’rate I. Fair winds, Honeycomb Splat.”
She turn’d to leave, without a thing amiss

About affairs or scene. He did not chat
To her at all – behind, her words begat
The action of the wall – it mov’d to seal
The baker deep within. She breath’d out – that

Would be the last she’d hear from him. She’d squeal
In further sadness, as the tears would steal
Her sight away from her own use again.
“Perhaps,” she said t’ herself, “I soon would heal

From all this unimaginable pain.
I never thought that fate would make the lane
Be wide enough for only one of us.
I hop’d we’d walk it side by side – my mane

Now takes up both my sides. O what a fuss
It will be, to get all the grains and plus
From out its strands. But that does not compare
To how I still regret to leave my guide – and thus,

I’ll leave it as it were.” She did not dare
To speak aloud – what point, she’d ask, was there?
She was alone, with not a soul to hear
Her words. And then, a shock – the hotter air

Of such a height still burn’d her hide. So near
She was to th’ top, and too, the sun, she’d fear
She would combust before she would arrive.
To her relief, the shade-side soon was here

To help her cool. Although she’d rightly strive
To reach the top, it did help t’ stay alive
And get her thoughts right. Now, and for all time,
She’d walk this lane alone. She would revive

As well, that much she knew, but then that rhyme
Would not extend to him. “’Twould be a crime
Not to vouch for him, to what powers may be.
I’ll get you back, guide – just you wait! My prime

Is still now – ” Once she let the heat vent, she
Would stand and start her quest again, to see
Its end, that oh-so-tantalizing end.
The shade would end, and would feel its spree

Leave her hide, with the sun and heat to rend
It freshly cooked. O you cursed bend,
She thought – we meet again. Of course, the path
Would narrow as I reach the top – I’ll wend

Around the place, as I before – your wrath
Means less than nothing to me. Th’ aftermath
Of heat and light of yours has no effect
Upon me – do you hear? And still, its bath

Continu’d on. She thought: what if I chect
My wings? What if, therefore, they could reject
The heat with flapping, like a feather’d fan?
And from beneath her cloak, she would erect

Her massive pair of wings, with such a span
As to protect her fro’ th’ sun. She began
To wave them near her, not so she’d take flight,
But just enough to dispel, rather than

Attract, more heat. It worked with its might,
So she thought, maybe, if the solar light
Did not bear down too much, then she could fly
Up to the top. Perhaps her shorter sight

Prevented her from earlier seeing why
Not. She then took a tentative flap, by
An outcrop on the path, and with some air
Drawn in her lungs, she took off to the sky.

It all went well for quite some time, but there
She notic’d something painful – why, the mare
Was burning up, far faster than before!
She could not flap enough to cool – a prayer,

Which did not work, and she would fall once more
Onto the ground. And when she stood, the chore
Of climbing suffer’d quite a setback too!
She fell much further down than she did soar!

Of all th’ ways she’d remark, just one came through –
That mountain peak was cursed – this she knew!
It striv’d to keep her down upon the ground,
No matter what. And thus, she felt so blue,

Blue as her fur upon her hide. She found
It hopeless – not a chance for her t’ be bound
To th’ sky above, not when th’ eternal sun
Within this land shone down. Yet she was sound

Inside her mind – despite the setbacks won
By curses, from th’ amount of water – none –
To losing such a trusted guide to th’ cliff,
She’d persevere though ev’ry manner, one

And all, of hardship. This could well work, if
She’d not delay in thinking. Rather stiff
Her legs would grow – such as now, soon she saw.
But then she thought about what such a whiff

Of harmony might do. The mountain’s law
Would call forth anyone who oversaw
Its rules. Perhaps Honeycomb was so pure
With loyalty, that he would call its draw.

But what possess ponies to the lure?
The possibilities, she’d reassure
Herself, might not be even worth the thought.
She’d have to concentrate upon secure

Pathways onto the top. Thus, she would not
Find shortcuts anymore – the last had wrought
The fury of the mountain, she could tell.
The hard way was the only way – she ought

T’ respect that fact, no matter what. She fell
Two times before, when she did not foretell
The consequences of her actions, so
She did resolve herself t’ obey its spell.

And whilst she would ascend, she might bestow
An answer to some other thing. She’d slow
Her pace, so deep in thought, so she’d have time
To consider each point that she would know.

The baker – yes, of course; she knew his rhyme,
The one he told her long before; what crime
It’d be to let it be forgotten soon.
She knew him, from his words, about his prime

In life, when Sark’e would pursue him. Moon
And sun to moon again, her courage hewn
From desperation, never once to see
His wife – until the very end. The loon

Was soon ejected from the place, for she
Was quite unwelcome anymore, and free
He was again, from out her changeling grip.
They soon would bear a new colt – or was he

Born ’fore the changeling came? He’d skip
Some details, sure, but something like that’d tip
Her off about a thing, but she’d not press
The minor issue – as the heat would strip

Her of her train of thought. It did impress
Her, to admit in frank, how much it’d ‘bless’
Her with a lack of thinking. She’d ask, “Why?”
But knew the answer true – the solar stress

Would take its toll on anyone who’d try
To navigate its heat. Within the sky
That gilded orb beyond Celestia’s hold
Would taunt her to no end. She’d die,

But then, she knew that happen’d. In that cold
Sleep called death, she wonder’d if her old
Corpse had since rotted away in the court.
Why, she could hear the bells as they all toll’d

Away her passing – nay! Abandon th’ sort
Of thinking! Still, would she rise in the fort,
Or be regenerated in the womb?
So many questions she could ask, but short

A pony that could answer any – whom
Would know? And furthermore, about her tomb –
If she would not revive her body, then
Would she be buried ’neath the central room,

Or even outside – in a grassy glen,
Or – sky above forbid – a swampy fen?
Perhaps she could find some solution to
These problems, and so many more – but when?

Upon a whim, she felt the wall accrue
Its sand upon a wing – which she would view
As fruitless, nary clue here to be seen.
At least the coming shade would let her stew

In coolness relative. Within the scene,
She would consider – maybe flight unseen
By that eternal sun would pave the way
Onto the mountain top. It was quite mean,

Its curse, but if it did not know to slay
Her efforts, why not try at all? The day
Was young, and never growing old at all,
But she was one to try. She would display

Her dusty wings from out beneath her shawl,
And thrust herself into the air. The call
Of rushing wind past by her flatten’d ears.
Some progress seem’d apparent – then the fall

Would set in, as she realiz’d that her fears
Were conjur’d. She would hit the ground – the tears
Were flowing freely, both from the defeat
And pain resulting. There were nary cheers

Within this cursed land, were there? How sweet
Her victory would be, if she could beat
Its cliffside pathway predetermined!
At least, she thought, I do not need repeat

The winding path that I before have tread;
I’ll just resume my previous walk instead.
She pict herself up, then she shook the dust
From out her fur, and took a step ahead.

The shady side would dissipate, and just
Like that, the sun would burn her, as it must.
But she’d ignore the pain, her mind train’d on
The actions of before. She plac’d her trust

Upon a baker – just a simple pawn
To other royals, yet to her, the dawn
Shone not as bright without her trusty guide.
But that would never last, and they anon

Would part without a warning. She inside
Would grieve the sudden loss, but she applied
A hint of rationality to th’ cost.
Perhaps his destiny was not the tide

Of life back in Equestria, merely lost
To th’ Stygian barrier. She would not accost
The Fates if such was truly meant to be –
Like any other pony, she’d not crost

Their tempers. Maybe if the two were three
At some point – Sister should forbid – then she
Would have some company. Alas, the thought
Was folly mere, and not one she should see.

Upon a whim, she peered o’er where nought
Would meet the trail, and saw the fall, all fraught
With mystery and danger. She would shake
Her head, return to th’ journey, ’fore she caught

Herself in yet another fall-mistake;
Besides, how much more could the princess take?
Three times she fell, one by an error true,
The other two by her misjudgment. Make

Me suffer all you wish, she thought, but you
Will not break me. My mettle did accrue
The strength to overpower whatever may
Come down upon me. This I know be true!

So she’d assure herself, but then, the day
Eternal had some other tricks that they
Had never seen yet – namely, that her stride
Might not go anywhere where heat would stay.

And as a result, Luna had to bide
Her stepping, making sure that she had tried
Not to approach a hotspot. Yet by chance
She’d set her hoof upon it – and her hide

Had burned not as much. Just a mere glance
Upon her frog would send the burning lance
Up through her leg. And then would come the shade,
The shade that could not come in time. She’d prance

And lie down there, to let the heat degrade.
But then she saw in front of her, she made
Her way so far above the ground, the dark
Behind the mountain grew too short. She staid

For just a moment more, then she would hark
Its warning, make her way into the stark
Light of the day. Again her hoov’s would burn,
But now she knew to step with care. No spark

Would find her frog, no matter how it’d yearn
For her pain. Luna made sure it would learn
Of her fight – fight against the elements.
She’d step upon the ground, and made it spurn

Its purpose of its heat – which grew intense
Upon her back as well. Her cloak so dense
Could keep out sand that drifted in the wind,
But greater heat came as the cost. The sense

That this gave her did not work, as air thinn’d
The higher up she went. She would rescind
The cloak at some point – but she’d not let go
Of it. If she were not so disciplin’d,

It would be gone so very long ago.
But making them at first took magic, so
She was not keen on doing that again,
Lest she would have within her head the throe

It had when she would light her horn. That pain
Was quite enough to stop her. She’d sustain
Her strength for just a moment, then the ache
Would set in, shutting off the magic’s strain.

No sense in teleporting – such mistake
Would havoc wreak on her, so she would take
The long way up. Besides, she could not fly
Up there – the curse had forced her to make

Her way by hoof. And here, the sunny sky
Would light the way upon the trail so high.
This was the way; no matter how she tried
To find a shortcut, she would need comply.
> Book of Harmony, Canto 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was some time, she found, before she spied
A chance to wear the cloak – a breeze had pried
And cut the mountain air, and at her height,
For once, she found herself cold. She’d hide

Within that warmer cloak – O what a sight
And feel for once! The Keeper of the Night
Would never think that this land could be cold
In any place at all. And yet, this slight

Breeze did its work to hinder her. As bold
As she could be, she’d gotten ust to th’ old
Dry heat of that below. “I’m sure the sun
Would fix this newfound plight,” the princess told

Herself. The cold would dissipate – the fun
With it – and soon she felt its heat as one
Great weight. Again she’d doff her precious cloak.
She could not even sweat, so she was done

With ev’rything the land had t’ offer. Choke
Upon your own sand, Luna thought. A joke
You have become. You’ll not best me at all!
The land did not speak back. Perhaps she broke

Its curse? ’Twas far too early t’ make the call.
She put a wing out, let it feel the wall
Along her side, to cool off – but she’d need
To keep her balance chect, lest she would fall

Again. The last three times had such a speed
That she thought she broke something – but indeed,
If that happen’d first, Solar Rain did heal
Away – the next two times she had decreed

Herself unharm’d. Perhaps she brac’d for th’ real
Result each time. Regardless, she would seal
Her magic in her horn – besides the pain
On her back, magic also make her reel

With loads of pain within her head and brain.
The first thing she would do, once she’d abstain
Her death, would be t’ regain her mana, and
To make sure this would not occur again.

At least, to th’ extent Luna had just plann’d –
In any case, she’d still need leave this land.
That much would come within due time. For now,
She’d need keep walking upward, mind the sand

That could make her slip down, and not allow
That t’ happen here. She also would endow
Herself with just a peek at what she’d earn
In the end. And yet here, as if a vow

Unspoken would forbid her e’en to turn
Her head to get enough a glimpse t’ discern
Just how much further she would have to walk –
And even worse, the fog would shroud, she’d learn,

The ground below, from whence they came. She’d balk
At this, but then she did not want the rock
To give way to her flailing nerves. So she
Would shift her eyes, and pray that she’d not gawk

Below the edge. As far as she could see,
There was no bottom – just a foggy sea.
And too, she should not stray too far away
Fro’ th’ cliff-wall. Not much more she could decree.

She did not fear the height, and yet she’d sway
As though she’d caught in wind. She’d not display
Her fright, to make it sure, but she could tell
Just herself otherwise. There she’d not stay

By the edge of the cliff – she felt unwell
To linger there, not ready for her knell.
She shook the grim thoughts, wishing not t’ stay here.
She had to know, on such she should not dwell

If only just to drive away her fear.
– Besides, she was sure that the end was near.
She’d just have to keep climbing, ever on,
And she’d arrive before she knew. Such sheer

Amount of pressure will see me to th’ dawn,
She thought, before my chances become gone!
But still, I’m so sure that the path will draw
Too narrow e’en for me to pass – her brawn

Would shift her weight over the edge – she saw
A sight she knew too well, as though the law
O’ th’ land would dictate that the princess ought
To stop here. She’d squint, and from out her maw

Her breath would make the cliff’s face of rock – rot?
She lean’d in closer – yet alas, cannot
Detect the find again for her to see.
She trac’d it with her hoof, but still saw nought

Where she have indicated. So then, she
Would step back far away – and then, with glee,
She saw again – and ponder’d how to show.
“Perhaps a bit of generosity – ”

And lo, the word reveal’d the pony, so
That she could better see. One made of snow
Instead of stone appear’d before her true –
The cliff was not cract there, this she would know.

“How could ice form here? O I wish I knew
The answer!” “So I shall impart to you,”
The icy pony spoke. “’Tis rather cold,
Despite the sunny heat – the winds so few

Would serve to chill me. ’Tis a rather old
Trick we snow-makers use.” “I have been told
Of those tricks pegasi use in the clime
Back in Equestria – they are clever, bold,”

She said. “You use the weather in its rhyme.”
“Indeed,” the ice-one said. “Though, back in time,
We would have many other wiles besides.
Howe’er did you discover me? What crime

Have I committed?” “You’ve done nought – the tides
Of Life and Death have claim’d us both.” “What guides
Informed you of this?” She sounded scar’d.
“If you are dead, then all Equestria’s sides

Will surely fall in on themselv’s!” She shar’d
A look of sympathy. “If you’ve declar’d
A need for urgency, then know this much:
I’ve climbed up this far, and I have dar’d

T’ encounter dangers in the face. As such,
I’ve used them as strength’s source, insomuch
As I’ve been able. From what you might run,
I use instead experience’s touch.

Besides, Equestria dear has not yet spun
From out of our control. The moon and sun
My sister shall attend to, whilst I rise
From out the dust of death.” These words would stun

The lost snow-maker – then she would realize
That hope was never lost, not since the skies
Were well maintain’d by dear Celestia. “Thus
I should maintain composure. So your prize,

The tool you need, lies at the summit – plus,
You fear another pony just might muss
Your plans – is that correct?” Spake she, “Indeed –
And even though you cannot make me us,

Your help is valuable still.” “Do you need
A place to rest?” she askt the mare. “Or speed
To carry forth? Or something else I’d know
Not now?” Spake Luna, “Don’t take this as greed,

But I would like to go beyond, to go
To th’ peak above – ” she pointed thusly – “though
I can’t tell what a chore it is to walk.”
The pegasus lookt to the clouds. “The throe

Will take some time to solve – ” which forc’d a gawk –
“Because I’ll need t’ rebuild my form. This block
Has had a profound influence, so let
Us stay here in the meantime, let us talk

Of times before – of how you came, what debt
Besides you leave, and other things you fret
O’er.” “Have we that much time to lose?” “You do –
I cannot speed the process, or I’d sweat

Within the sun, and I’d dissolve into
My second death.” The princess sigh’d, her view
Impatient, but she’d settle on the ground
Before the crafter, all the same. “Too true

No one has come this way, much less has found
Me on the wall as ice. The sun might pound
My surface with all manner heat and sand,
But I resisted ev’rything, and sound

I would remain for all this time.” “So grand
Your words are – tell me, what have you done, and
Who are you?” “Ah! My name is Winterspice,
And I made countless snowflakes for the plann’d

Weather. In winter-tide, I think it nice
To let the earth below be cloact in ice
And snow, to let it heal from what they farm –
Were it not for this, it would pay the price

Eventually, and they’d do untold harm
Upon the ground, and in turn raise alarm
To both the other tribes.” “I know that tale,”
The princess said. “I also know my arm

Grows cold within the snow; without the ale
Kept in the stores, one would have lost his tail
To frost. O what a necessary ill
To keep our fertile ground. – And yet, sans fail,

The spring returns, and too, the farmers will
Return to th’ field for work.” “The winter’s chill
Does give respite, at least – nine months of work,
Three more of celebration,” spake she. “Still,

I understand that winter is your irk.”
“Nay, always I can see the logic o’ th’ murk
Of snow so cold, pure, and white,” Luna said.
“I just wish that three months is not its quirk.”

“In any case,” she said, “I’ll speak instead
About the things I’ve done before. I’ve led
A simple life – in other seasons, I
Would craft each snowflake, then watch them be spread

Throughout Equestria ev’ry winter, spy
The ponies getting ready, asking ‘Why?’
Each time the snow-clouds came. And ev’ry time
The clouds let loose my work, they’d always vie

For just a bit more time, and yet the clime
Must change, as it does ev’ry year. The rime
Should hang fro’ th’ rafters, and the snow should coat
The ground without distinction. Such a rhyme

Sing everlasting joy – I should not gloat,
But I can’t help admiring that my mote
Of snow – one I can point out easily –
Begins its task, at first i’ th’ air to float,

Before descending to the ground, then see
It mingle with the others – now tell me,
What other joys do winter bring? Pray tell!”
“As you have mention’d formerly,” said she,

“We’re granted our respite for us to dwell
Inside a fire-warm’d home. And too, the smell
Of cider, and the Warming of the Hearth
T’ inaugurate the winter’s frozen spell.

The foals would play I’ th’ snow, for what it’s worth –
I did that once upon a time. The earth
Is just as lively as the warmer days.”
“I’m glad I’d help you find some sense – the mirth

Of winter-tide is present f’ all to laze
Whilst th’ earth would heal for coming fruits and maize.
But why do I so ramble? I have more
To tell, about myself to boot.” And with this phrase,

The proper tale began. “I’ve said before
That I was just a snowmaker, a chore
That sounds so tedious, but I shall vow
The work is not as hard as in your core

You picture. Rather, each flake could allow
So many diff’rent patterns – soon I’d bow
To memory instead of cleverness.
That way, when they would land, they could allow

A smoother meshing. I’d ensure the mess
Had unseen order, and it workt – unless
They melted, as they all would, then they’d stick
Together in a sheet of slush. You’d guess

The coming of the spring by just how thick
The sheet became – my father taught the trick
To me when I was just a filly, and
I never once forgot. The clouds were slick

Enough when days grew long, that I’d not stand
Atop for very long, and so I’d land
Upon the ground, if wings would fail to pull
Me from the fall.” She stopt, turn’d back, and scann’d

Her form. “The wings take longer – th’ air is full
Of heat, and not of moisture. Rather dull.”
She turned back to her. “Regardless, I
Still cherisht winter-tide – e’en if my skull

Bears much misfortune, I would never lie
And say that anything about its sky
Could stand a change. I got my cutie mark
When I made my first flake.” She gave a sigh.

“How long ago it was e’er since the spark
That granted me my destiny. So stark
And manifest it was – of course I’d spice
The winter ev’ry tide. Such times were dark

When I stept in the snowmint – nothing nice
About the designs; they would simply slice
Thin flakes off just three master elements.
I show’d them my skill, praid they took advice –

But habit has a way of making dense
Their thinking. Things that they did just made sense,
No further rhyme nor reason. To insist
That I must change the work, for them t’ dispense

Their older method, this they would resist
For sev’ral winters more. I would assist
In cutting ’way the flakes, but I have plann’d
E’en then to implement what would assist

In spreading cheer so far and wide. I’d stand
Firm – they would too – and then I saw how grand
Their methods were: the quantity of snow
Was what had matter’d, not th’ appearance – and

I chang’d my strategy. I’d have to show
My innocence, but secretly I’d stow
Some spare molds, carve them out the way I wish,
Then slip them in the place. They’d never know

The diff’rence, not the way they work! A fish
Would spot the change much sooner! Feverish
I’d work the next morn, ’fore one would call me.
He held my snowwork out upon a dish.

‘Was this your doing?’ ‘Yes, it is!’ ‘But we
Do not want fancy work. You could not see
From our words – ’ then he threw the snow away,
And I watcht as the fruits of my snow spree

Would melt upon the floor. I shouted ‘Hey!
I workt upon those in the night!’ ‘But they
See such as wasted time. I truly dread
This moment, but I have to tell you – nay,

You cannot work here, now or ever.’ Dead
I felt inside – I’d need to work instead
By my lone self. I wanted to object,
But he would never hear. I hung my head

And left the place in shame – they would reject
The art that I offer’d? Let them neglect
Their work, then – I will craft them on my own.
I knew how their machines workt, sans defect,

And so I’d build a replica, and hone
My craft that way. In time, just one alone
Could make four dozen patterns, all alike
In beauty. Sev’ral more could fit i’ th’ zone,

But I’d not spare the work, for such a spike
In snow production made a harder strike
Upon my soul. Perhaps, I thought, I’d sell
My new design t’ a rival mint? ’Twas like

Revenge twofold – my grand designs would dwell
I’ th’ halls of history, and just as well,
They would regret their actions. But I’d not
Stoop t’ entertain th’ idea. I could tell

When something could and should be sold and bought,
And this was not it, not at all. I’ve fought
My thinking ev’ry step along the path,
And so I did decide – ” A random thought

Would interrupt her reverie. “The wrath
O’ th’ sun has fin’lly ceast – and too, this bath
Of ice has formed wings upon my back.
If you’ll allow?” She did – the aftermath

Left ice upon her barrel. Frost would track
Along some hidden groov’s, and she would wrack
Her mind as to the method. I can’t find
A cause, forsooth, she thought – there is a lack

Of thought to my – She stopt. Her eyes would bind
Upon her neck and see her form rescind
Into her. Amazingly, she’d done a task!
But what’d she do? Before the glare could blind

Her, Luna shut her eyes – but then she’d bask
Her with the prize – from out her icy cask,
She had produc’d a charm. Upon a strand
Of ice, she gave her it. “You need just ask – 

So long ago, I would have made it, grand
And straight away.” The strand would not melt, and
She felt its blessing cool. “So what became
Of your machine? You did leave there, unplann’d.”

“But I did not forget!” she said. “My game
Was shrewd, and generosity my aim.
Of course, a bit of luck would never harm
My plan, and so it would be quite the shame

If those machines would break. It took no charm,
But that would come to pass, and the alarm
Would spread throughout the town. I saw my chance,
And took it. I would offer to reärm

Their mint, no payment needed – plus, enhance
The final quality. They watcht it dance,
And saw the O-so-gorgeous flakes of snow.
They would agree at once. They would advance

Enough for me t’ retire, but I would show
A gesture of my charity. They’d know
Exactly how to carve out new designs,
And more, t’ replace them ev’ry year – and so

My plan would be achiev’d. I saw the signs
That I should build more – but they had the spines
To offer help at least, which I’d accept.
It took three summer months, which redefin’s

My patience, but the workers were adept
In piecing them together. I soon slept
In knowing that the snow next winter-tide
Would be the best Equestria’s seen. Except

They did not wish for me to go – they’ve tied
Me to th’ machines. I did not mind – inside
The mint was where I was suppost to be.
I merely gladden’d from the fact I’ve tried

And so succeeded in my destiny.
For many years and tides I’d always see
A semblance of joy from the ponies who
Would watch the snow drift down below. To me,

’Twas all th’ reward I’d need. But just a few
Would still mind having snowfall scatter through
The land. I am sure, Princess, you’d desire
A summer for all time, but try that view:

If only summer were, then soon the fire
Of life beneath the ground would shrivel. Dire
The farming will become – ” “I know as much,”
The princess said. “But still, we would admire

The snow when winter comes, insomuch
As ’tmeans three months of rest. Your touch
Of frost is also gorgeous by its right,
And I would strive t’ enjoy the winter, such

That I would halt my duties. E’en the night
Cannot stay me within the castle.” Luna’s might
Gave greater weight to ev’ry thing she said.
She reminist of blue fur in the white

Drift of snow, how her sister would instead
Blend in, as though she wasn’t there. Her head
Would soon lose this idyllic foalhood scene
When Winterspice would clear her throat. “A shred

Of thought to let you ponder: in the mesne,”
She would continue telling, “I have seen
The reservoir of water, meant for snow.
It was suppost to gather in between

The storms, so water pure would use and show
In snowfall. This one year, they had to slow
Production, since a valve had sprung a leak.
They had to fix the problem, even though

The equinox would start. After a week
The issue seem’d to be repair’d. I’d peek
And see the patching-work was quite enough.
At least, I praid that was the case. Too meek

To ask about, I’d focus on the stuff
That I was taskt for – yet I could not snuff
Suspicions that the leak was still at large.
A thought I would conjure, and then rebuff

Before I spoke aloud. One day, a barge
That carried in the rainbows, would discharge
Into the foundry. Stray wind set it loose,
And it would crash. The foremare soon took charge

In keeping out the flood. I’d then deduce
The reservoir was in grave danger. Juice
Would hit the patcht-up leak in a large wave,
And in a second undid one week’s use.

I grabb’d the foremare, since I ought to save
The one in charge. Call it dumb, call it brave,
But I knew what I had to do, yet still
I knew this was my iridescent grave.

I open’d up my eyes, and felt the shrill
Amount of sunlight, much more than the mill
Would let shine through. No clouds here, only sand
As far as my own eyes could see. The thrill

Was wholly over in the instant, and
I could not find another soul, as plann’d.
And worse, my form was made of purest frost,
A thing that’d melt within the heat. I’d band

Together with whatever soul was lost
As well, but none of them knew me. The cost
Of dying in the mint was far too high
T’ sustain, but I knew that I did exhaust

All other options. High within the sky,
I saw a mountain – this same mountain. Why?
I cannot say, but I would ask a drake;
I would say else, but I would never lie.

He somehow knew about the place. He spake,
‘If you would leave me be, I’m glad to take
You to the place.’ I could not see such cause
But I’d agree. He’d take me up, and make

Haste to the base. Inside the hour, a pause,
And he would land. I’d have to climb it – ’twas
A longer journey, one I’m sure you’d know.
I would insist he’d take, as per th’ land’s laws,

A thing of mine as payment. He would show
Refusal at my offering, as though
What I had had no value. Then I saw
The use in heeding this – I’d likely stow

The things I’d need from out his sight. The law
O’ th’ land did not forbid, I found. I’d thaw
Out more i’ th’ sun, but I would stand to watch
The drake in flying off away in awe.

The climb was longer than I thought; the swatch
Of color blended to just one. A notch
Along the side would help me not at all
In keeping track how high I was; no splotch

Of color other than the gray o’ th’ wall
And tan of sand, and blue of sky so tall.
I wonder’d where I’d stop, and then I found
A rocky clearing here. A stone would fall

So far, I could not see it land; the ground
Was far too far away, nor would a sound
Erupt from whence it went. The wall of stone
Would beckon me t’ approach, and all around

I could not find another. All alone,
And with a lack of options, I would hone
My focus, and press right into the cliff.
I was surpris’d how quick it gave. It’d shown

That here was my place, and no place else. If
I tried ten paces back, I would be stiff;
If ten ahead, the same. So I would melt
Myself into a part o’ th’ wall. A wiff

Of wind or sand or heat had never dealt
Ill state, so I’d remain. In time, I felt
Secur’d upon the cliffface, not to move
An inch in any way beyond what spelt

My home. I fell within idyllic groove,
And did not register the time. It’d prove
Surprising, seeing you of anyone
To come into this land. It would behoove

You to decypher how you did th’ action.”
“’Tis rather complicated, but a son
Would burst into my court, demand I save
His father moribund. Another run

Into his dreams reveal’d he was a slave
To Shade’s Corruption. Rather brave
Of him t’ realize I could assist. I’d fail,
And we’d both pass away. Into the grave

We’ve gone, and we would wander through the hail
Of dust and heat so dry. We would assail
Some other beings on our path, but they would not
Provide much in the way of help. Our tale

Now brought us to the mountain, where we’ve sought
A way t’ revive ourselv’s. It is not bought
Or sold, it must be rightly earn’d. And yet,
Before we came, I never would have thought

That it would claim the baker. I’d not let
It be, but no way – ” “You must be upset!”
Said Winterspice. “Indeed, I was for time.
But then, I did recall, because such debt,

I could pluck him out before the chime,
And he again could sing the living rhyme.”
“I’m sure I’ll help you,” Winterspice said. “Be
Not stubborn now – perhaps a bit more rime?”

“You’ve done enough t’ assist me.” “Do not flee
From my assistance!” Winterspice begg’d. “See
The generosity that I’d provide.
I could continue making charms, to see

The mountain top ahead!” But Luna sigh’d.
“I’m thankful for the help, but by my side
You cannot stay. This journey is my own,
And furthermore, the path is never wide

Enough for two – just me alone would hone
My side along the cliff. I am alone,
And I have ought t’ remain so. Do not fret;
You’ve done enough – your charity has shown

The way ahead.” Said Winterspice, “My debt
Might not be paid at all – ” “Perhaps you’d get
The meaning of your act if you’d allow
Yourself t’ accept the same unto you.” “Yet

I have done not enough!” “You have – endow
Yourself with this our comfort.” She would bow
And walk away, and pull’d her cloak o’er soon.
She had some questions for herself. First, how

Could she deny the mare of what she’d swoon?
She would recall the clerk, his lost skull hewn
From bone and carv’d stone. She would follow not
Within his selfless steps, lest she’d attune

Herself to needless sacrifice. I ought
To leave her there, she thought. And if she sought
The same herself? I doubt she would require –
From what I had divin’d, her willing thought

Was that she merely was content, not dire
To leave the place. Besides, she know the higher
One went, the further she would need descend
T’ return t’ where she belonged. She’d admire

The will, but such cannot let her amend
The vow. Though, she thought, it’d truly rend
My heart to leave her there. And thought I must
Advance without her, how can I defend

My actions? Endless guilt betide me! Dust
Would claim her surely, but it is not just!
But even so, I must go on. Her head
Would lose this thinking when she felt the thrust

Of hot wind on her horn. She squinted, pled
That sun would not blind her – but there instead
Was that ice-charm that Winterspice gave. Th’ stem
Wrapt neatly ’round her neck, as though the thread

Did ev’ry bit of its work. What a gem
And magic it was! By her diadem,
She’d regret Winterspice was not her peer
Upon this journey. Then she felt some phlegm –

She clear’d her throat, since dust so fine’d adhere
Within. I too wish water would spring near,
Thought Luna, but the matter is, I find
No place at this height where it could be clear.

No need to fret, of course, within her mind.
No matter how much does get lodg’d, in kind
I cannot die before my time. I know
This very well – she glanced right behind,

But found no single soul, not one to slow.
Her egress much at very least. She’d show
Herself along the spiral path, and she
Resumed walking forward – and although

She needn’t, she steadied her eyes to see
A source to drink from. Nothing flowing free
For certain, but that would not halt her hunt.
A certain height would truly kill a tree,

So looking verdantly, from out the front,
Would make her miss the obvious. A grunt
Of effort told her of a steeper path,
One where she’d have to execute a stunt

To overcome. And yet, she fear’d the wrath
Upon her skull that magic brought, the bath
Of pain because she lackt the mana to
Draw from. She still forgot the aftermath,

And drew a pulse to hoist herself. She knew
The toll it took upon her, so she threw
A hoof before herself, and with a stark
Grasp, not of magic, she would pull in lieu.

She wanted water even more – a spark
Descended from her horn. She would remark,
“That may be the last time I ought to wield
My magic – Flight is likely still, I hark?”

It may not be – the thinner air had seal’d
Them to her sides. The thought had so appeal’d
To her, that Luna all the same would try.
She thrust them out, but they she could not wield.

She realized, So though I cannot fly,
I’ll see this journey to the end. “– And I
Cannot wait for such end myself!” she spake
Aloud. And just like that, she’d look to th’ sky

And saw clouds, eternal as th’ day. It’d ache
Her eyes to stare, but she knew it’d not take
Much longer to arrive. She just hop’d that
She had the fortitude not to forsake

Her vow to him and all Equestria. Flat
The cliffside trail became, which had begat
Some comfort for her – truly, Solar Rain
Had had a point; a soul would not combat

Her on the way, as long as she’d sustain
Her efforts, not back down. She felt the pain
Of walking in her legs, but felt she’d close
In on the goal within the hour. Again

The shade would come around, and so the throes
The sun would shine upon them lost their glows.
Not that they had effect. She took in air
So crisp, fresh, and cool – e’en without the snows

Of higher altitudes, she did not care
About her thirst; that much can wait. She’d stare
Outwards again – where, nat’rally, the sun
Would threaten not to blind her – and the mare

Could see so far. O look at all we’ve done
And seen! she would imagine. O what fun
We’ve had upon our walk! Down she would point
To hint at the surrounding distance – One

Should be amaz’d by all the things in joint
We’ve done together, e’en if I’d anoint
Myself in Shade’s Corruption – which I’m sure
He knew was willful not. And now, the point

Draws ever near, no longer such a blur.
She sigh’d in her relief. “So it goes.” Her
Internal voice reflected quietude.
“Beyond this stagg’ring height lies what my tour

Had vow’d to us. So far, we’ve met the rude,
And those who harmony ours did elude.
As well, we’ve met the ones who would erode
Our principles of peace, or so I’ve view’d.”
> Book of Harmony, Canto 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She felt much cooler fin’lly, as she strode
Upon the swiftly-winding cliffside road.
No winds can bother her, nor can the sun
Shine down in any measurement. Th’ abode

Above her head awaited her at last – no fun
The the trip had been, and yet upon the run,
She met so many others on her path.
She would recount their thoughts, as they were done.

To wit, the gryphon, Glister, his talk’s wrath
Had cost his life, at gryphon’s hands. The math
He used upon his bits was not so pure
As well – was there a truth within lies’ bath?

And then the doctor, Bonesaw – she was sure
She’d never met a worse one on the tour
Than him. O so much pain, all in the name
Of knowledge – none of it was worth the cure!

The Crystal soldier, Vambrace – how his aim
Could never be sustain’d! He plaid the game
Of vigil sans end, and as just i’ th’ end,
He lost his life, as well as his own fame.

The wife of Crystal was no better friend –
She would pursue his wealth instead – she’d send
The message that she had no value for
The ones she ‘lov’d’ – nor ever would amend.

The dragon, Tângroen, masked not his lore;
He wanted only gold, and not much more.
He’d steal it ev’rywhere he plac’d his reach –
And in the end, its value made him poor.

Of course, the changeling, Sark’e, she would breach
The trust of all she met. Even her speech
Could turn to anyone’s, which would lead astray
Another – hopefully, her death would teach.

And when she’d demonstrate, she would display
Her sister – though she’d not intend that way.
She spoke about the mountain, so far off
That she could reach with extensive delay.

And then the law-mare, Tipt Scale, she would scoff
At her in court – perhaps ’twas all a cough.
She felt some pity for her client too,
And praid that all that trouble he’d since doff.

The bookmare, Codex – there was nary to
The mare. She kept herself so quiet, so few
Would truly know her – or so she had thought.
Her kindness kept her in mind her life through.

The fool nam’d Minute Mirth – her joy had wrought
Unhappiness for all around. Such rot
She must deny, and soon it’d cause her time
To disappear, the Fates to her had taught.

The hippogryph would oversee the climb
And fall of tides, as ships would pass. Her rhyme
Meant reckless loyalty – which was repaid
In cruelty. (Her raft helpt forgive the crime.)

The skull o’ th’ clerk would talk with magic’s aid,
Since ev’rything he had had since decaid.
His generosity knew nary bound,
And though he gave all, he was not afraid.

The hermit painter liv’d below the ground;
He hid there, never wanting to be found.
His life had taught him this – that bad things would
Occur with fame, but his fear had no sound.

Again she met her sister, th’ last for good –
She’d need to travel by herself; she could
Attract a thief, who’d steal away her chance
T’ return to life. She heard this as she stood.

First on the trail was Fair Trade, who had th’ stance
Of just that – fair trade. He would take a glance
At a prize; when he had, he paid the price.
He told her they all trapt in death’s dance.

Next was she, Solar Rain – who was so nice,
She could avoid not anyone’s want. Her concise
Magic would heal a soul in utter need –
Including Luna, who had fallen trice.

Forge Hammer’s mood would force one to take heed
At ev’rything he said and did. He’d quickly knead
The iron bars into shoes, for all those who
Would need. His cheer would ever grant her speed.

Of course, the baker – he would have the view
Of loyalty, but more, that much was true.
He staid by Luna’s side, because in turn
She tried to help his ailment of shade’s hue.

And Winterspice would never at all spurn
Those desp’rate. She may have proven stubborn,
But they’d accept in time. Then she would grant
An ice-charm, something Luna did not earn.

And Luna felt within her gut she shan’t
Be th’ last she met – one more would wait. I can’t
Delay much more, she thought, before I’d meet
The stranger – if such did exist. Her rant

Within her mind would keep her busy – neat,
Since all the rest o’ th’ way could not compete.
No landmarks could be found, not e’en a tree
To dot the way. How she liv’d was a feat

Itself, when air so high was not so free.
To say nought of the water – where’d it be?
If no plants grew, then water could not flow
Beneath the ground. It could not hear her plea

And spring it forth to break the status quo,
Nor would it do a thing t’ relieve the throe
Ensuing ’round the princess of the moon.
Her sole relief was that the afterglow

Of shade from sun was constant. Very soon
It’d disappear – then she’d have just the boon
Around her neck to drive off all the sun.
At least, she thought, I’d always be immune.

And though the mercies of the sun were none,
She never notic’d anyway. For one,
The charm; another, she was adamant – 
It won’t be long before I’m fin’lly done,

She thought t’ herself. She kept her eyes to th’ front,
And did not look behind, lest such a stunt
Remind her how far she had gone – alone.
Of course, she still mist him. He took the blunt

Of Shade’s Corruption, but he’d later hone
His tracking skills. So far as she had known,
No greater guide e’er was before she met
Honeycomb Splat. And now, she must atone

For leaving him behind. She would not let
Him do the favor – it left her a debt
That she would need to pay. And she shall pay,
For Luna never would allow the threat.

If she were to guess, then she’d have to say
She stood so far above the ground, she may
Kick o’er a rock, which’d take an hour to reach
The sand below. And after such delay

To test the thought (the found result would teach
Her otherwise), she kept on moving. Each
Of those she’d met had taught her something new,
Things she’d not learn in other case. She’d preach

Them, maybe, when she would return. Her view
O’ th’ path soon disappear’d. She would pursue
The reason – then she saw it merely turn’d
Into the mountain. “Yes! It’s here!” Her blue

Fur stood on end, in sheer furor. “I’ve earn’d
The end at last! O so much here to learn,
I’ll hardly wait!” On both sides of the road,
Tall cliffs stood guarding from light, which would burn

Away her self, were it not for the load
Of ice upon her neck. And in she strode,
Her wings still crampt, but folded inward still –
The walls gave nary room. She then had slow’d;

Was that a light beyond the end? I will
Investigate, she told herself. The hill
Is almost conquer’d anyway; a cause
As well to see the journey’s end. Until

She would arrive, she kept her eyes sans pause
Upon the glimmer. Her hoov’s felt like claws
Along the rocky trail, that scratch in long
Scars of her desperation. There it was,

She would remind herself – I must stay strong,
And I will soon be back where I belong.
The light grew nearer, nearer, ever near,
And she felt tantalizing all along

The trail – until, at last, she had come. Here
Was something striking that did not appear
Achievable – aye, ’twas beyond belief.
The verdance stretcht before her – rather queer.

Here, life existed, in the form of leaf
And bud and branch, which gave her some relief.
Where these plants grew, forsooth, the water be!
She found some – though she thought herself a thief,

She drank it deeply. After all, ’twas free
In its flow. And when she had finisht, she
Would take a better gander all around
Her. Why, her castle’s garden did not see

E’en half of all that grew here. From the ground
That’s blest apparently, the princess found
Some many indescribable plant breed.
The ones she did know, they were only found

Within the Everfree. She then took heed
Of what would sprout within the center, freed
From other’s influence. She would advance
To get a better view. What sort of seed

Would spawn this thing? she ponder’d. E’en by chance,
I’d never find the thing back home. She’d glance
A single bud atop the greatest stem.
She wonder’d what the bloom would be. The trance

Stall’d her from what came up behind. “Ahem.”
She jumpt to see what made the noise. “This gem
Is not yet grown.” A being odd stood ’fore
The princess – maned like a lion, the hem

Stretch’d round her neck, and then down it would pour
To her hoov’s and tail, and a horn would soar
From out her head, with twists and turns that would
Confuse the princess. “How’d you find this shore?”

She’d ask her. “I fear that it is not good.”
“I just went on the trail that sister should
Point out to me,” said Luna. “If I may,
I wish to know your name, and how this could

Live here.” “My name is Void Spark – I would stay
Atop this place for all my current life. The day
Lasts for all time, but here, the water’s throng
Would fertilize the ground, and sans delay,

A new friend verdant would appear among
The others. I would tend them all day long,
And pray that I would return back home soon.”
The princess sigh’d. “I hate to sing the song

Of disappointment, but by my own moon,
We both are dead. We’re Fallen, all us, hewn
From life and fam’ly.” Void spark would collapse
Onto the ground, her last hope now in tune

To deep despair. She did not weep, nor lapse
To anger – utter shock was all. “No maps
Can point the way,” said Luna, “but I’ll tell
You this: if you save me from burial wraps,

I will find how to pull you out as well.”
“You truly mean this?” “Yes I do – I’d sell
No vow that I would break.” “How did you die?”
The princess was struck by her words. “A spell

I made that peers within the dreams was nigh
Improv’d to full perfection. I would spy
Upon a baker, at his son’s request.
He had the Shade’s Corruption – why,

I could not leave the mess, and I would rest
Peacefully with him. Aye, there was that quest –
He came along with me, to see the end
Of his death, much like I. I do not jest

When I declare that I had lost my friend
To this land. All the magic I could spend
Could not revive him – where I am, at least.
So I must ask – can you help me ascend?”

“I could attempt – well, as soon as I’ve ceast
My tale.” O this again! she thought. “Deceast
We both may be – if you’re to find me here,
At least know whom you seek. I hail fro’ th’ east,

Beyond Equestria, not anywhere near
The place, among the kirins – whom you’d hear
Not anything about.” “Forsooth, I’ve not,”
Said Princess Luna. “Tell me more – I fear

We’re not acquainted very well.” “I ought
To warn,” spake Void Spark. “Kirin are all fraught
With that enchantment – we must never get
Upset with anything, lest such a thought

Destroy around with fire. We’d not forget
The work of Niriks – heavy is the threat,
That some have taken silence as a vow.”
She smil’d. “You’d do the very same, I’ll bet.”

“Of course,” said Luna, “I would not allow
My temper e’er to sway my judgment. Now,
Can we inaugurate the tale?” And Void
Spark said, “Indeed – I’m sure you would allow

Delay, even if you become annoid
At pausing.” Anymore she’d not avoid 
It. “Once there was, and once there wasn’t. I
Was born a humble kirin, one devoid

Of purpose, like all others. I would try
To find mine, yet no matter how I’d vie,
The bitter taste of my defeat would wait
For me. I askt around, and e’en on high

To the sun and your moon, whether my fate
Was emptiness and void. And all too late,
My mother past on, and I was without
My greatest guide in life; I’d truly hate

To wish the same on anyone, no doubt.
I take it you’ve not seen her here?” “About
Your mother?” Luna askt. “Nay, I have not.”
“How sad that she was not upon your route,

Said Void Spark. “All the same, my talents wrought
My destiny in due time – I was taught
That none of us could not bring back the dead,
But they could speak to me. Even a thought

From out the hallow’d ground could rightly shed
Some light upon the world. Of course, instead,
Those kirins who have found out of my work
Would ask instead to speak to them. My head

Would pain me to no end, for they would lurk
Beneath the ground in stranger ways. I’d shirk
Not anyway, for love can shine a light
Upon them, give them hope.” She gave a smirk,

And then continued, “I could feel the fight
Within my horn and hoov’s, but by my might
They would talk all the same. I did not fail
T’ excite the ones who wish’d to hear, in spite

Of what occurr’d to them – how they might ail,
Or lose themselv’s upon a wayward trail,
Or even fighting for our safety true –
Regardless, all of them will tell a tale,

Much like I tell you now. Upon a clue
My brother gave to me, I took the cue
And spoke to Mother dear as best I could.
She had no words for me, so very few

I gleaned from her, that I thought for good
We’d lost her. When I told him this, I should
Now mention, he suggested that again
I try. So when I took his word, I would

Believe not what had happen’d. O the pain
I felt within my horn! I felt the strain
Of magic drawing out by force. I soon
Collapst – when I awoke, I found I’d gain

Some clarity within that realm. The moon
Would help project them, but the sun would tune
Me into madness, which I would avoid
Just barely. Therefore, when the light was hewn

From blue, and your moon shone forth, then the void
Would open up to me. I have enjoid
A bit of tea with my Grand-Mother, plus
I learn’d some alchemy from one devoid

Of steadiness o’ th’ magic. (He would muss
The mixture when it called not, and thus
He would be ruin’d.) Ah well, anyway,
One night, a filly came to live with us

From out another village. She would say
To me about her father, who did slay
A beast most terrible. If I could see
Into the realm of dead – or Fallen – they

Might well impart an answer, so with glee
I would employ my lunar curse, so we
Could crack the mystery. And once I cast
My spell, us two would soon become a three.

I felt his soul wrap ’round my horn, so fast
I would project it on the ground. It’d last
For just some minutes few, so she’d need speed
To stay a while. An yet, she was aghast –

Her father was not this one – I’d not succeed!
I pled his pardon, which he had decreed.
Then I would turn to her, and tell her so.
She understood quite well, that she would need

Communicate with mother, who would know
The things we’d not. She would return to sow
The newfound knowledge into me – forsooth,
One lonely evening, that stallion’d show

Up at her door, whilst he would fight. The truth
Would come to light: she show’d him too much ruth,
And when the sun return’d, and he as well,
He never could be found. (No season’d sleuth

Could seek him out). He never’d really tell
What happen’d that night fateful – not a spell
T’ extract the truth from her or anyone
Else. Yet he still detected that foul smell.

That was six years before – the deed was done;
The filly was the product that was spun
From mischief marital. When I would spawn
Her father, that was true – but not the one

She knew before. I askt if she was drawn,
Her mother, to his memory. Such pawn
Prov’d very useful to me that next night.
Once I projected him upon the lawn,

I called up the father true. They might
Consider what had happen’d, but not quite.
They each accus’d the other of a sin
That only one committed. In my sight,

They started fighting, just to see who’d win
The filly over. I would flash a grin,
And channel energy into the mix.
With that, they would dissolve, and sink down in

The ground. She, well, was devastated. Sticks
And stones may break her bones, but they did nix
To her for quite some time. I shall admit
I did not give the case up – all those tricks

I knew, I us’d for sev’ral nights. I’d quit
Not, not until I saw into the pit
O’ th’ matter. Just some pieces would surface
Until I weav’d the cloth of truth. To wit:

Because the other did not leave a trace,
The true one thought nought of the disturb’d place.
When she was born, he took her as her own,
Despite the flaws that he could never trace.

The false one died from illness, one unknown
To me or you – and he had died alone.
But as he spoke this, fighting would break out
Once more – but this time, I would not condone

Their actions. Therefore, I would stick my snout
Into the mess, but there was nary doubt
That it’d have any sort o’ effect. They drew
Me deep within – because I could not shout

For help, my body fell in place. I knew
It’d not rise e’er again, and I went through
The deepest fall you could imagine.” “Say,”
Said Luna, “I did just that.” “All too true,”

Spake Void Spark. “All of us come down that way.
You’re nothing rather special. – Anyway,
I reacht the bottom soon enough, before
This mountain you apparently would slay.

The climb to the top was indeed a chore,
But when I came here, it was not a bore.
So many plants, far as the eye could see,
Awaited here – but none would yield a cure.

I’ve tried so many things, and yet, to me,
They had no such effect. I would not be
Releast from this calamity. I’d just
Maintain the garden, ’til discovery

Of what their nature true was. From the dust,
They spring with magic, magic you can trust.
Of course, you need to figure out which will
Do what, but that’s not simple, so I must

Explain: those daisies yield the sun’s warmth – ill-
Requir’d here. Valley-Lilies make the shrill
Sound deafen’d to the nought. And roses make
The world bend to your will. But rather than

Imagining your will to use, forsake
Your thoughts entirely; only then you take
A single one within your mouth. The shade
And hue dictate its power, make no mistake.

Red heals your body, white your soul. You’ve made
Some injuries to both; you wish for aid?
Then help yourself. And th’ yellow ones o’er there;
You seek your inner peace? Be not afraid,

And take one for yourself. But if you care
To know some more, there is another – where
It lies, I do not know, but I know this:
Blue grants you magic over life. ’Tis rare,

So very rare, but do not be remiss.
If you can spawn the thing, you’d have the kiss
Of renew’d life. You might tell I have none
To share with you, for if I did, the bliss

Of life would once again be mine. The sun
Shall shine upon this hole, the water spun
From unseen source, and I shall be content
With keeping these. O what a load of fun

Indeed!” “And very long since you have spent
Such time alone, we met – correct?” She bent
Her head t’ agree. “It felt like many years
Since I have seen a single soul. They’ve sent

Not anyone for me, as per my fears –
Is that right?” “Th’ same for me, and nary cheers
Have kept me company.” Then a thought. “Tell
Me – even though you know it, it appears

You’ve not a way to grow a blue rose. Well,
You could explain the method.” “Not a spell,”
Spake Void Spark, “but I know the method might
Consume the six you’ve met – it will dispel

Their souls, so one may live among dawn’s light.”
“Six souls to save another – is that right?”
She nodded her assent. “You may not wish
T’ erase your guide, indeed, ever to smite

The ones you ever cherish, but a fish
Must breathe in water, never air. Banish
What other substitutes you have, the six
Must only do. Break your vow like a dish

Upon the ground; you cannot ever fix
The problem he e’er had. Do not affix
Yourself onto regret. Equestria’s need
For you outweighs him; you must cross the Styx

The other way, and not him.” “I concede,”
Said Luna with a sigh. “Although I’ll plead
Wi’ th’ Fates, they cannot change what they have set
In motion outside my control.” “Agreed –

And when the deed is done, that bush will let
It sprout.” “The dead one in the midst? I’ll get
It from the place?” “To wit, it is not dead;
It simply lacks the fuel; we’re in its debt.”

“So how does one begin?” “Within my head
I cannot see; so far we both have tread,
But I could not conjure the words.” So she
Would think so deeply – then, “I think instead

The answer has to do with Harmony.
Each one would be call’d Generosity,
And Honesty, and Laughter, Kindness too,
And Magic in the fray with Loyalty.

I’ve met the honest one, his trade was true;
He never cheated in his trade – would you?
A kind dose helpt me back upon the trail
After I took a fall I wish I knew.

A simple laugh could lift my soul sans fail,
Even in darkest hours as I would scale.
So loyal was my guide, that I bemoan
His rapture – but that must be part o’ th’ tale.

And generous was th’ one who’d ever loan
This ice-charm ’round my neck, which I have shown.
That leav’s just Magic – ” “I think it is I,”
Said Void Spark. “What a shame that I’ll have thrown

My life away in wait – at least, I’ll ply
It to your own – Equestria needs you nigh
Among them, not a necromancer.” “Brave
Words you did speak,” said Luna. “I won’t lie;

To take the offer would mean I would shave
Away the task I first was meant – to save
My guide, the baker, of whom his son told
Me.” Luna sigh’d. “He’s lost now to the grave,

Just as you are, and as will I, if cold
And rotten my own body turns. My hold
Upon my life is likely very strong,
But I cannot say such for sure.” “You’re bold,”

The kirin said. “Although you might be wrong
About the ‘cold and rotten’ bit – ’tis long
Ago you may have died, but sister dear
Would keep an eye on you, where you belong.

So do not fret again – not when you’re near
Your goal. I’ll sacrifice myself right here;
The other five would know the price as well.
Now put away your shame; to life you’ll steer!”

“So how,” she askt, “shall we begin the spell?
What magic should I use, what words to tell?”
“I truly do not know, if I were true
With mine own words,” said Void Spark. “I shall dwell

Upon the mystery.” Then she would view
The wooden bush again – and there, like dew
In dawnlight, was the answer she did seek.
Six stones surrounding it – and Luna knew

Just what to say and do. She then would pique
The int’rest of the kirin, who would peek
Where pointed. She knew just as well as she –
“Of course!” She lit her horn, and then would speak.

“The honest one knows empty words can see
The family and village broken. He
Will strive to keep the sacred bind of trust,
And always knows the truth will set him free.”

And as she spoke, a stone would start to rust,
And then would glow bright orange, as if just
The kirin’s words would bring the stone to life.
It dull’d soon after to a shade of rust.

The bush, meanwhile, would start to sprout leav’s, rife
With vim and verdance, as if her words’ knife
Would slice within its roots, and water’d flow
To nourish that which was once plaug’d wi th’ strife

Of drouth. “How fascinating! It would know
To do the thing?” “Indeed,” said Void Spark. “So
You know that honest one you met cannot
Be heard from ’gain – he suffer’d through the throe

Of final death.” “I do believe you not.”
And Luna lit her horn, to seek the spot
In time when he would meet the two. Alas,
It was not meant to be. “Your mind is wrought

With glaring blank? That is right – he would pass,
And too your memory of him. Harass
Yourself not; there is no reversing it.”
She nodded. “Let our will not become glass,”

She said; “we must continue, never quit.”
“You feel remose?” “Forsooth, just a mere bit –
I’ll miss them so, but I too shall confess
That their loss is requir’d for me to split.”

“The kind one knows that treasures such will bless
Those in its need, no matter how much less
They may give in return. And should they choose
T’ reciprocate in kind, that is good – yes.”

A second stone lit up, as though the cues
Workt just as well, and soon the light would ooze
Into the ground, until the amber shade
Would take its golden place within their views.

The dead bark on its branches would be made
To fall away, and there would be displaid
Much fresher living stems along the plant.
The healer was fine, or so Luna praid.

“The laughing one knows the world around can’t
Be misery so pure – he’ll see the slant
In ev’ryday life, and poke cord’ial fun –
And share around all comedy’s enchant.”

The third stone lit up like th’ eternal sun
Above their heads – its golden light would stun
The princess, just for once, as she would stare,
Enchanted by its work, ’til it was done.

The soil beneath the bush became wet, where
The roots would grow. This water would repair
Whatever damage might occur in all
That time that it remained dormant there.

“The loyal one might hear th’ alluring call
Of fame and fortune to be had. The squall
Would not be answer’d, for he sees much more
To stay true to himself, and to his thrall.”

The fourth stone shone as true as three before –
Its light would last much longer, she was sure,
For its light piercing did not fade from sight
Even when she would shut her eyes so poor.

And then a single rosebud came, pure white
As clouds to block her sister’s morning light.
Though it would not now blossom, Luna knew
That that would change in due time, as was right.

“The generous one knows that many do
With fortune less than his. So he’d construe
To give his heart to ease another’s pain,
For he cannot imagine going through.”

The fifth stone lit up like the four. Again
Its golden light would make Luna’s eyes strain.
O finally! she thought, as th’ light would dim
This must be it! My goal I shall attain!

The rosebud blossom’d, from the white and slim
To deeper blue, as deep as Luna. Trim
Th’ arrangement of the petals would become,
As it asserted itself full of vim.

Before the kirin spoke more, her eyes swum
As she would realize what she must do. “Some
Might cower, back away,” said Luna – “yet
You brave the end.” She nodded with a hum.

“The magic one unites the others, let
Them complement each other as a set.
No one part is the best, but made a whole,
No force could dare to sunder or upset.”

To Luna’s shock, the kirin soon would roll
Into a cloud of dust, which that stone stole,
The final stone, as it would brightly glow.
And when ’twas gone, so was that final soul.

The flower did not change. Perhaps the show
Imbu’d it with the magic she would know
Would bring her back to her beloved land.
“Six souls to save another – ” She would stow

Such worries; what was done was done now, and
No reason for concerns could be. As plann’d,
She ate the only flower on the shrub –
It tasted warm, but otherwise was bland.

The heat would spread throughout her form, and rub
Within the final hope. She felt a nub
Rewrite her fate, as though the Fates divine
Saw what she did. She rose like a cherub,

E’en though her wings did not unfold. She’d shine
So brightly from her horn, but th’ magic’s vine
Was not a strand. Of course, ’twas the blue rose
That granted her this wish. She would align

Herself so she would rise by sight. The throes
Of below were behind. “At last – it shows
A vortex pulling me into the sky!”
She’d wake up from her death in blue-hu’d glows.
> Coda
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although the princess did not know the why,
Th’ ascent did not take quite as long. A sigh –
Perhaps that riddle she would solve in time,
When her true death came. May it not be nigh!

She set hoof on the ground, and knew this rhyme:
These many riftways led to dreams. In prime
Of night, they may be open’d, but not now.
She did surmise that dawn had past. The climb

Was not yet done; she had to make her vow
To Sister Dear that she’d survive. But how
Would she find her own mind? Her final thought,
Perhaps, but what might that be? Would her plow

Of magic slice the furrow, where she ought
To be, in such case? How long had she fought
The elements o’ th’ Land of Fallen, too?
So many questions left for her, but not

Enough t’ answer them. She would yet push through
These queries – she would solve them later. Who
Could say? They may still lay within the place
Now lost to Everfree this day. Her view

Was clouded over, and yet nought would grace
Her sight. But that was it – no clue could trace
Her back to th’ source of immortality.
She’d have to find it on her own; no chase

Before could guide her on her way, to see
Her to new life. She had one guide, but he
Had perisht for all time so she could live.
As much as she would true regret it, she

Knew, too, that they would ever be captive
If she chose to forsake the blue rose. Th’ sieve
Of will dictated that the strong survive,
Both form and mind. She hop’d that they’d forgive

The necessary sacrifice. She’d thrive
For his sake, making sure that she should strive
To keep her life as long as she well could.
For now, she’d make sure that she was alive

Still – just as soon as she’d divine the good
Part of this realm: her own. From there, she should
Revive, as though she woke up from a dream –
Except said dream was death untimely. Would

Her sister listen to what she would deem
A fabricated lie? How would it seem,
This Land of Fallen, where the dead would pass
A second time when they’re forgotten, stream

To nought but dust to down in th’ hourglass
Of time? Their lives determin’d by their class
Of moral, that was more believable,
But ev’rything besides was all, alas,

Mere fantasy and superstition, full
Of doubt upon her part. Was she able
To argue anyway? She’d try, for sure;
What reason had she not to let the lull

Take over? Sure, she quickly might assure
Her sister she could not bring her savior
Alive with her, but how about his son?
He sent himself to her, so she’d secure

His father’s health; to know this, how would one
Break th’ news? These questions many she would run
Within her mind, as she’d drift without aim
Throughout the dream-realm – when she’d happen ’pon

A feeling most familar. O that same
Tug on her heartstrings, guiding her to claim
Her place within her homeland. She would let
It tug her right along – but who could blame

Her? She’d not any other way; no other threat
Would try to harm or hinder; nary debt
She had to square away – well, other than
What she had in the living world. She’d fret

Not anymore o’er it; she had a plan,
And she would execute. Where she began
Was where she’d end this journey at long last.
Her heart would flutter nonstop like a fan,

Or like her wings upon her back, ’til fast
She hit upon her mark. Within this vast
Realm, she had somehow found her goal!
She lit her horn one final time, and cast

That spell unus’d to open up the hole.
Once it was torn enough, Luna would stroll
Through the rift – as though she belong’d right here.
Inside was dark, but that would change; her soul

Was right inside herself again – a mere
Flutter of eyes away from life. She’d peer,
But her eyes felt already wide. A strain,
And she would feel herself stir, ever near

T’ Equestria, and her sister, once again.
She felt her limbs and back, and felt the pain
She never knew before. And finally,
She open’d up her eyes. Behind her mane,

Physicians, far as her eyes could see.
And as she peer’d, they’d start to panic. “She
Is risen!” one would cry – and all the lot
Would either cheer, to know they answer’d th’ plea,

Or breathe a sigh in their relief. She ought
To do the same – but she found herself taut
And stiff, as if she’d not move for a while.
The celebration died down quick, which caught

Her focus. Looking to th’ way, she would smile
Weak, as she saw the solar sister. “I’ll
Be o’er the sun and moon,” she said aloud.
“At last, my sister dear! I would beguile

You with some needless talk, but you’re endow’d – ”
“Where is the baker?” Luna askt – she’d not shroud
Herself in mystery; she knew instead
What happen’d to him. She would laugh out loud;

When she stopt, she had th’ answer. “He is dead.
Some Shade’s Corruption poison’d him,” she said.
“That curst affliction’s fatal, and what’s more,
I fear you have the same inside your head.

You’ve been inside his dream, yes? I implore
You – tell me just what happen’d.” “What a chore
It was,” said Luna, “but to you I pray,
Give me some time t’ reflect. I’ve much in store,

But I just came right back to life today.”
“Came back to life?” she askt. “What do you say?
Do you mean you were – dead this whole time?” “Aye,”
Her sister answer’d. “Thus the long delay

In waking from that ‘slumber’ – you know why.”
Celestia stood without a word. A lie,
Or worse, the truth? What else could Luna tell
Her? Yet instead, she broke down in a cry,

Reliev’d that th’ lunar sister’s fate’d not spell
Disaster for the land. “What sort of spell
Would let you die?” she askt “I’ll have it bann’d
At once – if you, as you have told me, fell

Within untimely sleep of death, no land
Would ever know how else to access, and
I’ll make full certain of it.” “None at all,”
Her sister would reply. “It was unplann’d –

If I had known that his death’d make me fall,
I would not have tried to help him. The wall
Between the life and death is steadfast most,
And I could not cross for some time. Your call

To me across the barrier, on the coast
Without a sea, was comforting – almost;
Beyond that, you could not help bring me back.”
“A coast without a sea? Did you play host

To endless sand?” “Aye, that I did! The lack
Of water did not either help – why, we would rack
Our vim t’ survive in desolation – ” “‘We?’”
“Indeed – he was my guide, and had a knack

For finding others in the land – ” Then she
Would place her hoof upon her mouth. “You’re free
Now from the place; you can tell me your tale
Once you heal from your death. Until then, he

Would like a word with you.” He lookt quite pale,
The colt who saw her first, as though a veil
Of white had drapt across his scrawny form.
“O Princess Mine!” he greeted. “You’d avail

Yourself to me, this whole time! Not the norm
I would expect, but I am grateful!” Warm
His words may be, but she would need to give
Him ill news. “I have tried, but in the storm

Within his head, he past. Please don’t forgive
This error grave – it was a rout massive,
And even though I tried to free his soul,
He gave his life out, so that I may live.”

The colt sigh’d. “Yes, I was afraid the stroll
Amid the afterlife had kept. The toll
Upon you must have been so very great –
If Father could not live again, then th’ whole

Thing was for nought.” She askt, “So you don’t hate
Me?” “Not at all! – You may have been too late,
So far too late, but that you’ve tried to save
My father from inevitable fate

Is most brave. Please rest not, My Liege – the grave
Comes for us all, except you two. He gave
His ended life, so you can bring forth night
For all th’ land. See yourself not as a slave,

But as the Keeper of the Night. Your might
Is unmatcht – further, just as well, your sight
Into the realm of dreams can comfort, or
Guide us through th’ throes of death, where light

Is lacking – ” Luna laught. “That light shall bore
Into your skull,” she said. “It is a chore
Itself to seek out darkness, even shade.
Is my hide sing’d?” Celestia said, “I swore

The healers that’d not happen, lest they’ve made
A great mistake.” Luna’s hoof was displaid
Before her eyes – no single grain of sand
Could be found; it was wholly clean. “The maid

Made sure you were still well-kept and
Clean, whilst the healers did their work.” “How grand,”
She said – “but did you try to me to speak?”
“Admittely, I did,” she said – “I’d land

My horn to yours, to see if I could peek
Within. I did think of a mountain’s peak – ”
“That’s it!” she cried. “The picture came the way
Into my soul – that place was what we’d seek,

And when I came alone, there would display
My path t’ rebirth!” She babbl’d of her stay
Without an end, and they would heed her word.
They listen’d of th’ eternal lonely day,

Of how one’s actions saw their futures blurr’d
To ill or well, how memory – absurd! –
Can stave off death, since memory was bound
To th’ soul, and lapsing can fate be alter’d.

For death is not the end, as they had found –
E’en as the corpse descends into the ground,
Their time progresses, ’mid the endless waste,
Until the ones they knew make nary sound –

Then their demise sets in, with all due haste.
Eventually, Celestia got the taste
Of what her sister had learn’d and seen, wide
Across the place, and which being she grac’d.

And ne’er again would Luna pry inside
The heads of dying ones. The last had died
Beneath her watch of night, regrettably,
And ever onward, merely she had spied.

But when she turn’d to the dark, she would see
Herself be sent to th’ moon. From then on, she
Would peer on all the land, and see how just
Exile was – yet she staid sad as can be;

For she had lost one night her sister’s trust
When she was irkt by rival love. She must
Beat her with her night and her moon as tool –
And yet, to save us all, her sister’d thrust

A magic great on her – the darken’d fool –
To bring us forth her dawn. And thus, her rule
Was just by her own lonely self, sans lead
To help her. For the thousand years so cruel

T’ Our Liege, she’d just her wish that she’d be freed
From her leave, and that she would with great speed.
With luck, our One ’gain will turn back to Two,
As was i’ th’ years before – that much we need.

To end at last this Fallen-Song, review
What Luna learn’d in death. ’Tis nothing new:
Our Harmony means balance – so to say,
The right amount of each will make it true.

Dishonesty will carve out mistrust’s way;
Create a vow, then break it straight away,
Or speak what one knows is untrue – these can
Dissolve another’s trust without delay.

But t’ emphasize the true fact, rather than
Withhold it – such a grave faux pas will span
The length and breadth and depth of consciousness.
At times, one’s silence can safeguard the clan.

Instead, one should find compromise, and fuss
To see the truth emerge,  to accept. Thus,
It takes such bravery for one to tell
Th’ eternal truth: truth is not just a plus.

Brutality has never function’d well
To solve a war – but rather, it would spell
More fighting for both sides, one whose effect
Is cataclysm, and for all death’s knell.

But by that same coin, one should not reject
Emotion, pathos – lest it would affect
One in each facet of one’s tortur’d life
And be forgotten soon, without respect.

Between these two, one ought to meet the strife
Of living with a bit of kindness, rife
With mercy, understanding – this is not
Limited to just pony and his wife.

The lack of joy, which any tell, has wrought
The worst that anypony’s known – if sought,
It brings about a dark, o’erbearing gloom,
Where misery is all, and hope is nought.

Meanwhile, if one embrac’d only the bloom
O’ th’ world, without the pain, and thus assume
That nothing could turn foul before one’s eyes,
The mere naïvety spells certain doom.

Instead, use laughter as a tool, not prize,
T’ repel the worst calamity the skies
Conjure against you, and do not forget
That pain is only momentary lies.

A very vital lesson ponies get
Is how much treachery can pose a threat –
To scorn another in a time of strain
Begets a bitter sorrow, the right debt.

And to stay true to oneself, to one’s pain
And misery, is foolish and in vain
Quite often – sacrifice to nought of great
Importance has no sense, nor is it sane.

Be steadfast for the ones you love, not hate,
And one does better in that coming fate,
For loyalty begets the loving burn
From others – faith bears such a heavy weight.

One’s avarice ought to be chect, lest learn
It consumes ev’rything near – and in turn,
Affects not only those who wish t’ survive,
But he too, who a heavy debt would earn.

But pity those as well whose living-drive
Convinces them not to remain alive –
When they’ve contributed even their form,
From nought they shatter and no longer thrive.

Consider charity the wanted norm:
A bowl of stew, respite from harsher storm –
Such efforts pure without repayment same
Keep one’s looks shining, and one’s insides warm.

And one can play a very unsafe game
In using sorcery – it could bring shame
And decompose the clan without a sign
Of danger – worse, if mischief is one’s aim.

If one desires removing to align
Sans others all around, and so resign
To solitude, ’tis the same as to be
Without the magic that we all enshrine.

Instead, embrace the magic! Do not flee
From any of them – use them all with glee.
Together, all should form the perfect blend
Of these six Elements of Harmony.

Along the path of life we all will wend
Beside the one whom we would call a friend;
We’ll be together ’til our lives are through –
Yet live forever; Friendship has no end!