Chapter one: a horse with wings

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“Oh I knew it. I simply knew it. I knew it the moment I stepped out of the doorway. I knew it. You idiot. Sometimes I wonder why I am the one living here, if I can’t even read a little weather.”

Radagast the brown was muttering to himself, while he held a tight grip on the handlebar of his wooden sled. It wasn’t snowing, however, but that didn’t matter. Radagast’s sled was built to travel on the bare forest ground. It was the fastest and the easiest mode of transportation here, although it could be a little bumpy.

“Faster, faster!” Radagast yelled to the rabbits pulling the sled. “Or else we’ll never get home before hell breaks loose.”

The rabbits did all they could. The two dozen brown, fluffy animals were hopping and skipping quickly over rocks, hills, gaps, fallen tree trunks, and mountains of dead leaves. Their ears were flattened and their heads bobbed up and down. They could sense it too; the weather was changing.

“Oh my,” Radagast muttered as his hat almost flew off his head. He quickly snagged it before it could fly away. The wind was picking up. The weather was always unpredictable in autumn, especially in the Greenwood. Thick clouds were gathering into dark cushions, trying their best to cover all of the Greenwood as fast as they could. Already there was lightning flashing in the east, and a vicious thunder followed it closely.

Despite the threat in the air, the Greenwood looked peaceful. Enormous trees and thick carpets of fallen leaves were scattered all around. They shone golden in the low sunlight, and the bark of the trees looked fresh and shining, or old and satisfied.

The sled made the sound of a hissing snake, as it glided smoothly over the leaves on the ground. The underbrush and trees flashed by, and Radagast had to duck when a thick, overhanging branch tried to decapitate him.

“Why did I have to go this far today?” Radagast furrowed his bristly, grey eyebrows in thought, as he tried to remember why exactly he wanted to venture this far into the Greenwood on such an unpredictable day as this. Then his eyebrows shot up as he sensed and remembered. “A disturbance in the energy,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t believe it himself. Radagast closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on the thing he felt earlier this morning. The moment he had set a foot outside his home, Rhosgobel, he had felt something strange in the air. It wasn’t the scent of autumn in its attempts to help every tree get rid of its leaves to prepare for winter. It wasn’t the sound of the fluttering birds, the buzzing bees, or the rabbits scurrying around his cottage. It was something else. Immediately, Radagast had tuned in to the forest’s magical aura; the delicate spider web of magic interweaved with the earth, the trees, and even the animals. Radagast had concentrated on the connections of the life in the forest, traveling north, south, east, and west in his mind as if he were there. Then he had noticed something odd; something that shouldn’t be there. He hadn’t been quite able to put his finger on it—and he still wasn’t now—but he had a vague idea how it felt. It felt like a disturbance in the network, like a struggling fly caught in the web. Radagast could feel the ripples of it spreading through the forest. It felt subtle, but it was definitely there.

“Oh, yes. Now I remember…” Radagast said as he skidded over a wooded hill. Of course he had to investigate the disturbance. A disturbance often means an imbalance, and if there was anything Radagast was most concerned about, it was the balance of nature, the balance of the Greenwood.

The hill plunged down into a shallow valley, and Radagast had to concentrate and bend his knees for the impact. Of course he remembered this hill. It was one of Radagast’s favorite landmarks. He always called it Bald Boris, as it stuck out of the forest like a monk’s head, shaven only in the middle, and crowned with a few pine trees at the rim.

A sudden rumble almost made the wizard lose his grip, and he looked up in the sky. Between the entwining branches of the trees, he could see a grey strip right above him, like the edge of a dark blanket, or a lid which was about to cover a frying pan. The storm was close now. It had almost caught up. The wind was now making the trees whisper loudly. They whispered about how many branches they would lose, how bald they would become. Maybe they were ashamed, but Radagast didn’t know for certain.

The underbrush became more dense, and shrubs started to become more and more common, flashing by on either side. Soon there was a particularly sturdy-looking green wall of leaves, which blocked the path like a wall. Radagast could see the rabbits doubting, concerned as they were about their master. But Radagast gave a wave with his hand. “Don’t worry about it, my friends, I’ll be fine.” The rabbits picked up speed again, and dived through the bushes. The sled creaked, and branches whipped against the wood and slapped in Radagast’s face. He sputtered, coughed, and spit out a mouthful of leaves. “Tanglebrush,” Radagast said, “very poisonous.” Just to be sure, he wiped his tongue at his sleeve.

Luckily for Radagast, there weren’t any thorns, so he could speed on without further injury. The wizard knew that this part of the Greenwood wouldn’t be long, and he was right. After passing a shallow stream, cutting through the landscape like a silver ribbon (although Radagast knew that it would swell in might when the rain would come down), he entered more open and flat ground. A forest fire had burned here recently, as could be told by the streaks of black on dead, burnt remnants of trees. The ground was still thick with ash, and the sled skidded easily on it. Radagast drew a faint smile. Despite the haunting and somber atmosphere, he could only think about how this burnt-out piece of forest would look in a couple of years, when new, fresh shrubs and saplings would grow on the fertile, ash-strewn ground.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt flashed through the sky, immediately followed by a crackling boom. Radagast could feel as well as hear the thunderous cone of light striking the forest, and his body shuddered and jolted as if the lightning bolt had struck him right on the head. In the moment of shock, Radagast let go of the sled and fell backwards on the ashy forest floor. He rolled a few meters in a ball of black dust and burned leaves, then he lay still.

Radagast lay on his back on the ground, but quickly sat upright. His brown fur coat and cloak were covered in black, and Radagast coughed a few times. “Oh my! That was close,” he said. Looking around, Radagast saw the rabbits and the sled in the distance far off, but then smiled thinly despite the pain, as the rabbits were already returning to the place where their master—their friend—had fallen off. The sled came to a halt right beside the wizard, and some of the rabbits came close and sniffed at Radagast’s hands and legs, while others stood by and watched through tiny marble eyes.

“Oh, no need to be concerned,” Radagast said. “It isn’t the first time I have fallen off my sled, although I always hope that it is the last time.”

Indeed, Radagast wasn’t too hurt. At least he hadn’t broken anything. Slowly he scrambled up, careful not to strain any sore muscles or hidden bruises. Removing his hat, Radagast touched his head and flinched. There was a massive bump on his head, right next to the bird’s nest in which he let a few of his avian friends reside from time to time. “Well, I guess I’m going to feel that in the morning. Peter and Madeleine will have to be very careful up there.”

The rabbits hopped back into position, ready to cover the last leg of their trek. A muffled, distant thunderclap resounded, much farther away than the one which had surprised even Radagast himself. A droplet of rain fell down upon Radagast’s nose. He looked at the rabbits, jumping and stamping their feet. They were getting restless. They didn’t want to get wet either.

“Yes, yes,” Radagast said, “just a moment, please.”

Despite his rush mere minutes ago, Radagast wasn’t able to continue yet. He frowned his hairy eyebrows, and his forehead displayed deep, old wrinkles. Radagast thought about what had happened. He thought about that bolt of lightning. He had never been scared, or even so much as startled by a sudden lightning bolt. What had been so different or horrifying about that bolt, then? Radagast closed his eyes. The shape. Out of the corner of his eye, Radagast had seen the shape of the lightning bolt, even though it existed just a few seconds.

A few seconds? Lightning bolts don’t live longer than it takes to blink an eye. But it was longer than that, Radagast realized. Much longer.

“How strange.”

And the shape. The shape wasn’t like a crack in the bark of a tree, but it was like a long, bare, silver birch; a pillar of light. It had even shared the same color. Or hadn’t it? Radagast felt a headache coming up as he dug deeper into his memory. It all happened so fast.

“Yes, the color!”

It had been a pinkish hue, instead of the usual stark silver or warm yellow. It had been a pink lightning bolt, standing up straight like a column of light. “How strange,” Radagast said again. “How… unnatural.” Indeed, the only thing that was natural about it had been its thunderous sound.

The sound of stamping, impatient rabbit-feet made Radagast look. “Oh, of course,” he said. “You cannot read my mind.” Some of the rabbits stopped stamping and looked curiously at Radagast, no doubt wondering what he was thinking about. Suddenly, Radagast veered up and said, “My mind!”

The rabbits looked at each other in confusion. Maybe they thought that Radagast had lost his mind in the fall, which would explain a lot.

But Radagast wasn’t a fool. He sat down, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. Slow, careful breaths escaped his mouth. Under his eyelids, Radagast’s eyes twitched. His hands were folded together, but Radagast didn’t feel them. He was once more focusing his attention elsewhere; on the magic of the Greenwood. At first, there was not much. Only empty space around him, for the burned trees were dead. Next to him stood the rabbits, very much alive and filled with emotion; easy to detect by Radagast. The sound of a soft, swelling rainfall penetrated Radagast’s ears, but he held his concentration. He broadened his view. There was the lively—and annoying—underbrush to the east. There was Bald Boris even further east. There was the autumn-haunted forest region he had crossed. Then Radagast’s eyes opened with a jolt. They didn’t look at the surroundings. They didn’t look at anything in the physical world. And Radagast saw it.

There it was—or actually wasn’t. There was the disturbance. It felt like a hole in a paper map, or rather a hole in the magic of the forest. Radagast could feel and see the layers of magical energy growing thin, dangerously thin, around the gaping hole. The direction was clear; it was where the lightning had struck. There was no doubt about it.

Radagast opened his eyes. His vision retreated until he was back again with his five human senses. Radagast knew enough. He jumped on his sled. “Gee, gee! To the right,” Radagast called out, his voice harsh with urgency. For a moment, the rabbits looked at each other in confusion. Wasn’t that the way the storm was coming from?

“I know,” Radagast said. “But I have to see this first. We’re not abandoning the mission after all! Come on, rabbits, trust me. I promise you a nice, warm place by the hearth once we get home.”

That seemed to reassure the rabbits a bit, as the leader veered off to the right in a tiny cloud of ash. The others followed; some reluctantly, others more eagerly, knowing in their hearts that Radagast would be true to his word. On the back of the sled, Radagast wondered whether the reluctant ones could feel the disturbance as well; he didn’t ask them.

* *

The sled skidded once more through the forest, and the wind whipped against Radagast’s face, stroking his grey, wild beard. He had travelled for half an hour maybe, and the rain came pouring down the dark, clouded skies. It streamed down Radagast’s hat and soaked his otherwise warm fur cloak. The rabbits were having a bad time as well. The earth was wet and slick, and the muddy ground made it hard for them to keep the same brusque pace as before. Sometimes one of them slipped, but would also recover in the blink of an eye, only to continue the barren trek twice as vigorously as before—they were Rhosgobel rabbits, after all.

He was close now. Radagast could sense it. The rabbits could sense it too, he reckoned, as their pace slowed, if just a tiny bit. The forest around him now bore a somber, dark, wet aura, and the dead leaves, soaked by the rain, gave off an earthy smell. Had matters been normal, Radagast would certainly have enjoyed that odor. But now, with the disturbance almost visible as vibrations in the air, it only added to the ominous, tense atmosphere.

While the rain-drenched forest slid by past the hurrying rabbit-sled, Radagast’s mind wasn’t idle; it was racing just as quickly as his sled; it raced with thoughts. Radagast was wondering what in Middle Earth the strange disturbance in the magic of the Greenwood could be. The only time he had ever had a similar feeling was the time when Gandalf had been paying him a visit. Because Radagast himself didn’t like to travel, and his home in Rhosgobel was so far away from other settlements, Gandalf, his friend and fellow wizard, insisted on visiting him at least a couple of times a year, just to inform Radagast on the rest of Middle Earth. Had it been someone else, Radagast would have refused, but he often enjoyed Gandalf’s company. Drinking tea, talking about magic, the world, lore long lost and forgotten but remembered by the wizards’ minds. Yes, Radagast had had a similar feeling then. When Gandalf had entered the Greenwood, Radagast had sensed him. Gandalf appeared as a disruption in the forest’s magic as well, his power reaching out, interacting, and interweaving with the environment. The only difference was, that when Gandalf came, he only added to the Greenwood’s interconnected magical balance. The disruption Radagast had sensed in the burned part of the forest was a thinning of the web, not an amplification. It was as if a knife had spread the butter too thinly on a section of bread. Suddenly Radagast shuddered, and it was not of the cold winds.

A knife, he thought. What if it is indeed something—or someone— dangerous? Maybe orc raiders? Maybe wargs? But then he shook his head; a splash of water flew off his hat. No. It must be something or someone magical. Orcs don’t know magic, and neither do wargs. Then Radagast’s eyes opened wide. What if it is—he swallowed—black magic? Black magic cast over the forest to hurt it; to sap it from all its life. To feed on it like a parasite and damage it once and for all. Radagast thought about the burned forest. If it really was black magic, the forest could be damaged beyond repair. After a forest-fire, the Greenwood would mend itself and rejuvenate, for the ash is fertile and would sprout new plants; new life after death. With black magic, Radagast was sure that wouldn’t happen at all. Even though Radagast knew not much about the dark arts, he knew what it could mean for the Greenwood.

Radagast caught a dozen droplets of cold rain on his tongue and swallowed. Black magic… Suddenly he closed his eyes. He felt reluctance bubble up inside of him, accompanied by a slow, burning fear. He could turn around and go back, but at the same time he couldn’t. He was the warden of the Greenwood, and a wizard too. There was no going back, even though it might be dangerous. Radagast looked over at his rabbits, and saw that some were shaking and shuddering. Any other person would think that was because of the rain and the chill; a logical and certainly not a dumb assumption. But Radagast could feel the rabbit’s fear as well. He could feel their reluctance and worry. Radagast drew in a deep breath. “Don’t worry, my friends,” he shouted against the noise of the falling rain, “I am with you. I will look after you if times get tough. Trust me.”

Whether those words really reassured his companions, Radagast couldn’t tell. There was no time to find out, as he reached the destination.

The last few tree trunks swept past, the last bushes rustled behind the speeding sled, and one last bump made the sled rocket into the air and fly over the last shrubberies. Radagast clutched the handlebar as tightly as he could, but even he dared to cast a glance from underneath the rim of his hat to the creature or object that lay before him. He was still in mid-flight, but he could see what was there; the disturbance in the Greenwood.

* *

A blinding flash, pink and sizzling with magical energy, struck down on the Greenwood. It rattled and sparked in power, and was followed by an ear-splitting roar. Shaped like a column of pink magic, it left a searing, black mark in the leaves, smoking with small puffs. But it left something else too; something not native to Middle Earth in any way. Something, or rather, somepony.

A small mare—a pony—lay in the middle of a black pit, created by the impact of the rumbling energies just minutes ago. She didn’t look hurt, but her teeth were clattering like ice-cubes in a glass. Her tail swept nervously from side to side, before flopping down on the seared ground entirely. Breath came in shallow gasps. She used all the will she could muster to slow it down until it was just a soft, small wheeze.

“W-w-what happened?” the pony said, with a voice as shaky as her teeth. “I-i-is everypony ok?”

The forest around her was quiet, as if the trees themselves wanted to know who or what this creature was, and what she was doing in the Greenwood. Or perhaps they were silently congregating with one another, connected with the magic that made them stand straight. Congregating what to do with this strange intruder who made such a rude and noisy entrance.

Black wisps of smoke curled around the pony’s mane and tail into the air, and she coughed a few times. She then noticed that she herself was quiet as well—she couldn’t hear a thing.

“W-w-what’s going on with me?”

Suddenly, a high-pitched beep resounded in her ears and rolled through her skull. The poor little pony winced at the sound, covering her ears with her hooves. It didn’t work. Her face contorted in pain, as the sound reverberated a million times like a spiky bouncing ball through her head. The pain left little room for thoughts, but the pony still recognized the obvious fact that the sound of the column of light had deafened her.

And luckily for the pony, the deafening was temporary. After another agonizing minute, the sound lessened in volume, until it disappeared altogether. Carefully, the pony removed her hooves from her ears and tried to listen one more time.

The trees were no longer silent, but rustled gently, whispering amongst themselves. The wind was picking up. Small birds sang their names, the sound carried faster and faster around the trees of the forest. But despite their tweeting and chirping, the pony had no idea what the birds’ names where. She could hear the creaking of branches, moaning in the winds. A few dead leaves, disturbed by the drafts, rolled across the forest floor and against the pony’s legs.

Then the pony turned her head and looked down. At least, that was what she was trying to do. The moment she opened her eyes, however, she realized that her eyes were unseeing.

“I-I can’t see!” she said, her own voice sounding strange and frightened.

The world was a white haze before her eyes, no doubt another affliction thrown upon her by the pink lightning column. She tried to blink a few times, she tried to rub her eyes with her hooves, but her eyes remained blinded.

“Oh no! What is happening?”

The pony felt worry and anxiety leap upon her every nerve. She shook all over her body, and thoughts bounced through her head.

“W-w-what happened?”

No answer.

“The light! What was that? And the sound. Was it lightning, Twilight?”

“Twilight…?”

Again, no answer.

“Rainbow Dash? I-I-I didn’t mean to bump into you. Did I hurt you?”

But Rainbow Dash wasn’t there.

“T-T-Twilight? Rainbow Dash? Pinkie? Rarity? Starlight? Applejack?”

But the sounds of her friends’ names where the only things accompanying her.

Thoughts flashed through her head, trying their best to make sense of the strange things that had happened, and the strange place she was in now—she had to figure out where she was. The pony, scared as she was, forced her to concentrate on the few senses she still had; smell, touch, sound. She smelled a faint burning scent, but also something rotting and dead. Turning her nose in the wind, the pony sniffed and noticed the wet, anticipating air of a coming rain. A familiar smell, but it wasn’t right.

Then she felt the rolling leaves being blown against her body and sticking in her mane. That too, was something she recognized, but that too, wasn’t right.

And lastly, she heard the sounds of trees, plants, animals, shrubs, wood. All of them were sounds she had heard a million times before, but these weren’t appropriate either.

With a shock which traveled through her body all the way to her tail, the pony realized that she wasn’t where she thought she was.

“I am not in Ponyville anymore, am I?”

But there was no one who answered. She was alone in the Greenwood.

The pony lowered her head to the ground, felt the icky, damp leaves against her face. A single tear rolled from the corner of her hazy eye. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice stuttering and deformed. A sob made her shoulders twitch, and was soon followed by more. She felt her whole body going limp, and then she didn’t feel anything anymore as she lay there, crying on the ground.

It looked like even the weather felt her sadness, as a few droplets of rain started falling down from the greying clouds. Soon, the sound of a light rain echoed through the forest, and the wind picked up as well. The wind carried a stinging coldness; a coldness marking the end of autumn and the approach of winter. Maybe the trees felt sorry for the little pony, crying on the ground, as they rustled louder and louder in the swelling wind. They dropped their leaves, crying along with her. Perhaps they wanted to cover her underneath a thick, warm blanket to help her survive in the merciless nature. Soon, a whole heap of them stacked up against the flank and head of the pony, shaken only by the wind or the quiver of her belly when she sobbed.

At the rim of the black circle of burnt leaves, two squirrels gathered and looked curiously at the pony. Recognizing the sound of the scurrying animals, she lifted her head slowly and turned her ears in the direction of the sound. “H-h-hello? Can you help me?”

But even though she spoke so softly, the squirrels started and bolted back into the forest, no doubt searching for a better hideout against the storm.

“H-h-hello?” the pony said again, “are you there?”

But her words met only empty, windy air. She would never know what animals they were, or if they would indeed have helped her. She buried her face in her hooves again and cried, lonely once again.

The wind started blowing fierce. It grew into the child of the storm it would become. The sound of snapping branches filled the air, and the thud when they hit the ground echoed ominously. Even more water poured down the heavens, drenching the trees and the leaves and transforming the forest floor into a muddy bath.

Suddenly, the pony on the ground twitched her ears at a strange sound, coming directly in front of her nose. She heard the crashing and snapping of shrubs and branches. She heard a yell of surprise. Then she herself let out a yell. Whether it was in shock, a call for help, or a desperate sound escaping her lips, the pony didn’t know. She knew someone was there. She knew something was there. She heard the pattering of many feet or hooves or paws upon the leaves. It was a timber-wolf, a giant spider, a manticore, a horde of cockatrices, a flock of vultures. To the scared little pony on the ground, it could be anything. The endless thoughts of danger overwhelmed her. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in. She couldn’t fight or flight; she couldn’t see anything. The pony heard a big thud behind her. She smelled a strange odor. She felt the ground shake with the impact of something big and heavy. But lastly, she felt her body stiffen and a dark cloud bursting in her head. Then she felt nothing anymore.

* *

“Oh my! Oh my! What have I done!” Radagast said, as he circled around and stopped the sled right next to the little horse.

Despite the strange colors she bore, Radagast knew that it was a horse, a pony in fact. He knelt down beside her, looking to find her eyes.

“I hope I didn’t scare her,” he muttered, judging by her pastel coloring that the horse was indeed a mare.

A sudden lightning bolt crackled behind him, and Radagast startled. It wasn’t because of the lightning bolt however, but because he saw the pony’s two wings. In his long life as keeper of the plants and animals of the Greenwood, Radagast had never seen such a strange creature. A pony… with wings.

“How remarkable,” Radagast said, but he couldn’t hear his own voice above the wind, which was now roaring through the woods. Suddenly, a big branch snapped off its father tree, and it crashed down right next to the unconsciousness pony and the wizard.

The rabbits, standing behind Radagast, couldn’t take it anymore. The front of the herd bolted off, heading back the way they had come through the bushes. The back few rabbits saw their compatriots go and poked their noses against Radagast’s cloak.

“Not now, I am—“ he began, turning around. But when he saw the rabbits move out one by one, he realized what was going on. Quickly he turned back to the horse, scooped her up, and placed her carefully on the back of his sled. With the realization that she was much lighter than he had expected, Radagast used the remaining seconds to throw a rope around the animal, securing her—hopefully—against the wooden board.

The moment Radagast placed his hands on the handlebar, the sled shot forward. Radagast didn’t need to give any commands to his pets, as he knew all too well where the scared little rabbits were going to; back to his home. Back to Rhosgobel.

Chapter two: missing in action

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“What the hay! What happened?”

Rainbow Dash was the first to recover her wits. She spoke before she looked, as her friends were still scattered all around the study. Residual, sizzling bolts of lightning crept up and down an enormous arc, standing right in the middle of the room. Blackened blotches of soot against the crystal walls further hinted at the strange things that had happened mere minutes ago.

A collective moan indicated that nopony was yet able to talk, let alone stand on her own hooves. Everypony lay everywhere. Twilight Sparkle rested atop a desk, both pony and desk in a completely other place than they were before. Applejack sat upright already, leaning against the crystal wall and looking as if she’d bucked too many apple trees. On top of a pile of books lay Starlight Glimmer and Pinkie Pie; Starlight on top of the pile, and Pinkie on the bottom, covered by the ruined books with only her curly tail sticking out. Maybe Rarity had come off the best, as she had flown out of the study into the hallway, her fall cushioned by the thick, purple carpet.

Above the curious mess, Luna’s full moon shone inside through three high windows. The whipping, stormy winds and the rolling thunder further added to the catastrophic scene.

But Rainbow Dash was up in the air already. “Is everypony alright?” she called out. When another moan came, she zipped towards all of her friends in turn, checking on their health.

“I’m alive, thanks,” Applejack said, scrambling to her hooves.

“Still in one piece,” Starlight Glimmer said. She carefully slid off the pile of books, creating a small avalanche of paper behind her. She landed on the carpet and raised an eyebrow at the cotton-candy tail sticking out of the pile.

From Pinkie came only a muffled sound, as her head was still buried deep inside the pile of books. Starlight Glimmer quickly started digging her up, but soon realized that pulling Pinkie’s tail was a much quicker way to get her out.

Rainbow Dash flew over to Rarity, but Rarity’s reaction had to do with her mane, so Rainbow Dash quickly skipped her and went towards Twilight Sparkle.

“W-w-what happened?” Twilight Sparkle said with rolling eyes and her tongue dangling out of her mouth. “D-d-did it work? Why is everything spinning and shaking?”

Rainbow Dash saw that it was Twilight Sparkle herself who was shaking. She grabbed the alicorn’s trembling head with both her front legs. Twilight’s eyes kept rolling around for a few seconds before they aligned again. Rainbow Dash let go of Twilight, who shook her head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dash said. “Now can you please tell me what the hay just happened?”

Twilight suddenly jumped back from Rainbow Dash as if she had threatened her. “Rainbow Dash! Why are you here?”

“That’s what I wanna ask you,” Dash said, slightly annoyed, She wanted answers, as quickly as Twilight could give them.

But Twilight was still figuring everything out herself. She looked around and her eyes grew in shock at the chaos in her study. “Oh my!” Suddenly she jumped, as her eyes settled on the sparking arc. “The machine! NO!”

The arc stood upside-down like a horseshoe, and was attached to numerous tubes, wires, and cables. Many of them were dangling beside it, and the arc itself was cracked and blackened in places. Twilight Sparkle let out a gasp as she saw that the top of the arc, the focal point of the energy, was broken in two, and a small pink lightning bolt occasionally crackled between the two ends.

“The machine…”

Rainbow Dash decided to let Twilight Sparkle come to her senses, as she saw that she wasn’t able to speak in full sentences just yet. Flapping her wings, Rainbow Dash made a quick circle around the study room, and gathered all the other ponies in the center, but at a safe distance from Twilight’s ruined machine.

“Is everypony ok? Nopony hurt?” Rainbow Dash said. She looked around the circle, turning her head swiftly to examine all of her friends. Some of them, the ones who had stood closest to the machine, had black marks of soot and a few light bruises here and there; nothing to severe. Pinkie Pie had a few scraps of ripped paper dangling from her mane. Applejack looked pretty battered but held her head high. Her mane a bit out of shape, Rarity looked fine. None of them had broken bones or twisted ankles, and Rainbow Dash let out a sigh.

Involuntarily, as if it were a Wonderbolt-grade rescue operation, Rainbow Dash began to count heads, and soon realized that she missed a yellow head with a pink mane. “Hey, where’s Fluttershy?”

Everypony looked around and behind themselves. Applejack had already done a few paces towards a flipped table, and Pinkie yelled, “FLUTTERSHY!” in her high-pitched voice. But Pinkie’s call echoed through the study and out the door. There was no sign of her.

Starlight Glimmer raised a hoof to her chin. “The last time I saw Fluttershy, she was standing behind everypony else. I believe she was standing next to Rarity.”

“Indeed,” Rarity said, “she couldn’t stand that awful noise from the machine any more than I could.”

Had Twilight been standing together with the rest, she would certainly have made an objection. She would probably have told Rarity that it was all in the name of science, but she herself was standing behind a control panel, pushing buttons and pulling switches while gazing at a display with sweat beading off her forehead. A couple of minutes later, Twilight pulled a particularly big lever, and the soft rumble of the machine came to a stop as its power was cut off. The pink tongues of lightning retracted, and then disappeared with a flash of magic.

“Do you need any help, Twilight?” Starlight Glimmer said.

But Twilight moved away from the control panel and walked towards the rest. “No thanks, Starlight. I shut it off. It’s safe now.” Then she glanced at the ring of ponies. “Hey, where’s Fluttershy?”

Rainbow Dash let out a sigh of annoyance. “That’s what we’re figuring out too. She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Well, at least she ain’t here,” Applejack added. “But we gotta do a little search for her. I reckon she probably couldn’t stand the noise or the flashes and ran off like a stampeding cow.”

Twilight frowned in thought. “Plausible.” Her frown deepened, until it drew deep grooves in her forehead. Twilight blinked her eyes rapidly, concentrated as she was. Then she returned to the present, and looked at all her friends in turn. “A search it is, then.” She straightened her back, immediately taking control of the situation, and perhaps feeling a bit guilty for scaring Fluttershy.

“Rarity, you go to the library.”

Rarity nodded and cantered out of the study.

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight continued, “I want you to search all of the hallways. You’re the fastest of us.”

“Roger,” Dash said, and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Pinkie Pie jumped up and down in delight. “Oh! Pick me, pick me, pick me! I love a good game of hide-and-seek! I reckon Fluttershy will be even better than Princess Celestia, because, you know… she’s Fluttershy!”

“Alright, Pinkie, you can go to the throne hall.”

To that, Pinkie’s ears drooped down. “What? Just one spot? But you don’t know how good I am at hide-and-seek. I could search the whole castle in the—“

“Alright, then,” Twilight said, interrupting Pinkie to preserve some valuable time. “Search the kitchen and the bedroom and… and… any other room which hasn’t been searched.”

That seemed to satisfy Pinkie, and with a quick, “Oki doki loki,” she was off.

Next, Twilight turned to Applejack. “Applejack, can you go to the laboratory and the observatory?”

“You got it,” Applejack said.

When everypony was out of the throne room, Twilight let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes.

Then there was silence. A long and thoughtful silence. Leaving enough time for Twilight Sparkle to gather some mental strength. Peace, silence, and alone-time. Those were the tools Twilight used to calm herself down and regain her wits.

But she wasn’t alone, as there was still one pony left: Starlight Glimmer.

Starlight saw that Twilight was gathering her thoughts, so she remained silent. But when Twilight opened her eyes again after a few minutes, she walked closer to her. “You haven’t given me a task, Twilight. Would you like to search the study together?”

Twilight Sparkle looked her apprentice in the eyes. “No, Starlight,” she said. “Fluttershy isn’t here.”

Starlight tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But how do you know for sure? The others are searching for her, right?”

Twilight lowered her head. “I have my suspicions…”

Another silence followed. Although Starlight Glimmer had a dozen more questions to ask Twilight, she saw that her master wouldn’t say anything more. Twilight hated drawing conclusions on suspicions. Instead, she asked, “Then what would you like me to do?”

Twilight looked again at Starlight, showing a smile with visible effort. “I want you to help me think. We designed the device together, didn’t we?”

“Of course we did,” Starlight said, thinking back to the hours of programming, welding, collecting, hauling, channeling, and magically amplifying the machine which now lay in ruin. “It was our project.”

“Yes,” Twilight said, turning her head towards what remained of the machine. “It was.”

Through a window high above, the moonlight, which had so faithfully lit the study after the accident, now became covered by a drifting cloud. For a moment, Twilight and Starlight stood in complete darkness, covering everything with its blackened blanket. But a second later, two magical lights sprang to life; a blue one from Starlight’s horn, and a purple one from Twilight’s. “Well, it seems I have a task for you after all, Starlight. Let’s get some candles.”

When a few cheerful, flickering orange lights illuminated the study, Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer found themselves standing in front of the debris of the machine. Both ponies had a serious gaze, studying the wreckage intently.

“It’s an overload, no doubt about it,” Starlight Glimmer said.

Twilight nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. Such a shame… Months of work gone with a single, pink flash.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight answered. “The reports show a sudden spike in the energy levels. There was too much energy for the machine to handle.”

“Was it… our fault?” Starlight said carefully.

Twilight shook her head. “It wasn’t, and certainly not your fault. I’m pretty sure of that, unless you decided to play a strange joke.”

Starlight Glimmer shook her head, even though she knew Twilight was just kidding. But the thought of a joke did spark an idea in her mind. “Could it be Discord? He’s always in for some mayhem, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Twilight said. “If it really was him, he would probably be here laughing at us.”

“Of course,” Starlight Glimmer said, “and he’s reformed as well. I should have thought about that.”

“Don’t worry, Starlight, even we sometimes forget that. Discord’s intentions are as vague as Pinkie’s mind.”

To that, both ponies chuckled, breaking the serious atmosphere if only for a moment.

“I have to think this over,” Twilight said as the echoes of laughter retreated to the hallway. “Maybe we can clear out some debris in the meantime. It might deliver a clue to the source of the overload.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Starlight said, and with a flash of her horn, a chunk of severed steel was already floating to a more appropriate place.

* *

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer spent a good while clearing out and sorting the debris. Following a particular system—one which Twilight had thought of in a potential crisis-report—the remains of the machine were laid down on the ground and sorted. Pieces of metal, stained glass, cables, wires, nuts, bolts—all bent, broken or battered—scattered and stained the crystal floor. The two unicorns used levitation spells to lift the biggest pieces, and often combined their powerful magic to amplify the levitation spell. When the rubble was cleared and sorted, Twilight—with pain in her heart—decided to break a few dangling cables and sharp pieces of metal off the machine, to prevent them from snapping off and to create any further injury. Starlight helped, feeling a hint of disappointment sting her as well.

Only when that was done did the two unicorns proceed to cleaning up the study. Flipped tables were put with their four legs on the floor again, books were sorted and stacked, and shelves were turned upright and shoved against the crystal walls. Some books were shredded, and some were even burned. One book, called: The Chronicles of Starswirl the Bearded Volume One, made Twilight Sparkle shed a few tears, as it was one of her most beloved books, and it was scorched beyond repair.

Suddenly, the sound of many hooves came rolling towards Twilight and Starlight, carried by the echo of the empty hallways. They dropped the tapestries they were hanging back and turned around. Almost everypony had returned.

“And?” Twilight and Starlight said simultaneously, but they didn’t even need to ask; disappointment was etched on everypony’s faces.

“I’m terribly sorry, twilight,” Rarity said, taking the word, “but neither of us has been able to find the poor darling.”

“I looked everywhere. We all did,” Applejack said, lowering her gaze to the ground as if she’d just told a lie.

Starlight Glimmer looked surprised, much more surprised than Twilight, although the alicorn did her best to hide her lack of it. “I understand,” she said. But then she raised her eyebrow, as she saw that there were now two ponies missing. “Hasn’t Pinkie Pie returned yet?”

“Nope,” Applejack said. “Last time I saw her, she was going to check on Fluttershy’s cabin.”

Twilight tilted her head. “Fluttershy’s cabin? Wow. I didn’t realize Pinkie would be that thorough. But it’s plausible that Fluttershy will be there, of course. It would only mean that we’ll probably have to wait a little longer before—“

But even before Twilight had finished her sentence, a pink cloud of dust and cupcakes stormed into the room. It screeched to a halt just before Twilight Sparkle, taking its place in the now completed circle of ponies. It was—of course—Pinkie Pie.

Fluttershy was not with her, but still everypony looked at Pinkie Pie with a hopeful shine in their eyes.

Noticing their stares, Pinkie shrugged. “What? I was hungry.” She grabbed a few cupcakes from an enormous pile she carried and tossed them in her mouth. “You guys want any?”

“Did you find Fluttershy?” Starlight Glimmer asked.

“Eh… no,” Pinkie said carefully. “But I brought cupcakes. Nothing can cheer a pony up better than some treats from Sugarcube Corner, right?”

The circle of ponies let out a collective sigh, only Twilight seemed to be able to keep her calm. A worrisome, nervous smile traced her lips.

“Twilight? Are you alright?” Applejack said, noticing the alicorn’s strange reaction.

“Yes,” Twilight said. She blinked her eyes and looked from pony to pony. Every one of them fell silent at Twilight’s gaze. After a minute, Twilight spoke in a slow, stuttering voice. “I think I know what happened, everypony. Fluttershy, she… I… I think… well—”

“I suggest we all go to the throne hall,” Starlight Glimmer said, finishing Twilight’s sentence. “I’m sure Twilight will need to sit down and tell us all she knows.”

Twilight threw Starlight a thankful glance, and together with their friends, who were throwing each other questioning glares and whispered amongst one another, they walked out of the study towards the throne room.

* *

By the time they reached the nucleus of Twilight’s Castle of Friendship, everypony was silent again. The only sound came from a soft drizzle against the crystal windows opposite of the thrones and the enormous, golden table. It seemed that the stormy weather had subsided and shrunk into a gentle shower of rain. Everypony walked to her own crystal throne and sat down, tails curling behind backs. On the big table in front of them, the cutie map became visible, sensing the presence of the Elements of Harmony, but Twilight dispelled it with a flash of magic; it wasn’t needed. When at last everypony was seated, Twilight let her eyes meet everypony else’s; anticipating eyes stared back at her. Twilight Sparkle cast one straying glance outside the window, let out a heavy sigh, and then started her tale.

“First things first, everypony. I will first tell you what the machine is and what it does… or did. What has happened with it is still unclear to me, but… I think I know where Fluttershy is. As much as I hate to admit it, I think the accident and Fluttershy’s disappearance are connected.”

A few glances changed from anticipating to questioning or confused. Twilight continued.

“As you all know, the machine Starlight and I built is a very important, high-classified operation; a task given to me by the princesses themselves. They’ve also overseen some of the preparations, and lent me a small sliver of their magic in order to make the device function.”

Still nopony spoke; they were giving Twilight all the space she needed.

“It was a secret, yes,” Twilight continued. “And that’s why I’ve been trying to keep it covert, even for all of you. But the time for secrets is over. You all probably have no clue what Starlight and I have created, if Rainbow Dash hasn’t given anything away.”

Rainbow Dash looked at Twilight and shook her head, receiving many odd stared from everypony.

Then, Rarity wanted to take the word. “Yes, Twilight,” she said. “You haven’t told us anything about your newest invention you were about to show us. I thought it would be a cheerful surprise. You really didn’t want to let anything loose about that peculiar device. What, may I ask, did it do?”

Twilight shifted in her seat. “It is a teleportation device. It is built from the concept of the spell I used to teleport myself into one of Moondancer’s book to be able to get her attention, but in this case, the power is much greater, and it works two ways. The machine is powered both by physical energy and magically-amplified gems, both providing enough power to teleport something—or someone—across the interdimensional threshold into alternative universes.” Twilight paused. “Both real and fictional.”

A collective gasp of surprise went through the ponies. Some of them were looking at Rainbow Dash, wondering how exactly the rainbow-maned pegasus had possibly been able to keep something that grand a secret from the rest of them. Pinkie’s eyes tripled in size, and she munched away another cupcake without taking her eyes off Twilight Sparkle, captivated by the tale.

Twilight Sparkle waited for silence to fall. She knew that such a complex concept had to be difficult for anypony to swallow, let alone comprehend.

Twilight rasped her throat, as she was going to tell the rest of the secret. “The test I conducted was actually the second test. The first test had been half a year ago. I had teleported Frodo Baggins, a character from the book, The Lord of the Rings, written by J.R.R. Tolkien, into Equestria using the machine. Rainbow Dash here had helped me with the experi—I mean, encounter, during that time. The machine had functioned properly then, and I had no trouble at all sending Mister Baggins back to Middle Earth, his own world, after the encounter was done.”

“And it was awesome!” Rainbow Dash said, when she saw many stares coming her way once again.

“Indeed it was,” Twilight said with a smile. “A lot of… unexpected things happened back then.”

To that, Rainbow Dash felt her cheeks fill with warmth, and thought back about that peculiar day. Suddenly, she wished that nopony would be looking at her.

Luckily for Dash, Twilight quickly continued. “So after that first successful test, I wanted to proceed to phase two. The face where I… eh…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, scared as she was for everypony’s reaction..

Starlight laid a hoof on Twilight’s. “They’re your friends,” she whispered to her. “You can tell them everything, I’m sure. Or do you want me to tell them?”

Twilight shook her head.

“She wanted to teleport me to Middle Earth!” Rainbow Dash blurted out, taking off in excitement and hovering over her throne.

Once more, a big gasp came from everypony and echoed through the throne hall. Twilight looked at the ground with an expression as if the gasp stung her like a bee. Starlight bit her lip, feeling Twilight’s awkward shame. But whether her pony friends were really indignant, she couldn’t tell.

“Is that even possible?” Applejack cried out.

Pinkie stuffed three cupcakes into her mouth simultaneously. “Sounds amazing,” she said, although nopony could understand her with her overstuffed mouth.

“That sounds awfully dangerous,” Rarity said. She cast a sidelong glance at Rainbow Dash. “Why in Equestria would you possibly undertake such a dangerous venture, Rainbow Dash. I didn’t think you that reckless!”

Rainbow Crossed her hooves. “I did it for my own reasons, Rarity. And besides, it wasn’t dangerous. I mean, it shouldn’t have been dangerous. That machine wasn’t designed to explode, you know?”

“Such a shame that the thing didn’t work,” Rarity said, crossing her hooves and turning her whole body away from Dash. “It would have been nice to get rid of you for a while.”

Dash grumbled. “Same goes for me. Such a shame the explosion knocked me from the pedestal, otherwise I wouldn’t be here sitting next to you.” Dash saw that Rarity was about to throw an insult back, so she quickly looked over at Twilight Sparkle. “So why did it happen anyway? Why did the thing go boom?”

Twilight Sparkle waited until Pinkie had swallowed her cupcakes, and then spoke up. “The teleportation device exploded because of an energy overload. Starlight and I are certain of that. Even the crisis reports show that it was an overload of energy that made the machine explode.” She lowered her head in her hoof. “Thank Celestia nopony got hurt,” Twilight whispered.

“And do you have any idea where this overload came from?” Applejack asked.

But Twilight was still gazing at the ground, hoof against her head. Instead, Starlight answered the question. “That’s just it, we don’t. The reports say that there was a giant spike of non-magical energy which found a way into the machine’s power circuits, but we have no idea where it came from. Even after careful investigation, sorting out all the parts and examining the damage, we still couldn’t pinpoint the source. The only thing we found out—and saw—was that the top of the arc melted down first. After that, the rest of the circuits burst.”

All the technical talk took Applejack a bit aback, but she figured she understood most of it. “A non-magical energy source, huh?” she repeated. “What in the world of Equestria has enough energy to make a half-magical machine explode in a million tiny pieces?”

Suddenly, as if somepony pulled at her tail, Rainbow’s head jerked around towards Applejack. “Not what in the world of Equestria—what in the skies of Equestria. It was lightning!”

Of course Rainbow Dash was the first to figure that out. Having been in the sky for certainly half of her life, Rainbow Dash had seen her share of lightning and thunderstorms. Dash knew about the enormous destructive powers they could have. She had seen entire forests go to ashes after a dozen lightning bolts had found their way to the leaf-crowns of the trees. She had helped put out house-fires caused by lightning, and even helped to rescue a poor little filly who had been trapped on the upper floor. Sometimes she herself had even been struck by lightning, by accident, or intentionally in an attempt to harden her resistance to the flaring white bolts. She knew how to steer them, how to create them, and, of course, she knew all about their movement patterns, which were simple enough: always the highest object. And as far as Rainbow Dash could tell, Twilight’s Castle of Friendship was the highest building in Ponyville.

Twilight Sparkle was no longer looking at the ground, but stared ahead in the distance, as if she saw something that nopony else could see. She sat upright, as straight as a plank, her every muscle tense. “Yes!” she said, her voice excited beyond measure. “You’re right, Rainbow Dash! There was a storm, of course. I can’t believe it! I should have known… I should have calculated the risks. How in Equestria did the weather slip my mind?!”

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Starlight said. “It slipped my mind too. We’re both to blame.”

“Yes…”

Once again the ponies were left alone with their own thoughts, as another silence filled the room. Twilight Sparkle was silently calculating all the risk factors, seeing the numbers slide by before her eyes, over and over and over again. Rainbow Dash was thinking about how big that lightning bolt would have had to be in order to disrupt Twilight’s machine. Rarity had involuntarily grabbed a cupcake from Pinkie’s ever-slinking pile, eating away the nervousness. Applejack’s mind was spinning with all the new and strange things she had heard this evening—or actually this morning. She looked outside, as if to give her mind some rest. The grey of dawn was slowly approaching Ponyville, but the rain hadn’t stopped—it proved to become a somber day.

With a full mouth, Rarity looked at the circle of ponies. Her gaze stopped at the empty throne with the triple butterflies embroidered on the cushioning. She swallowed, wiped her mouth with a conjured napkin, and then suddenly, but also slowly, carefully, with a hushed and delicate voice, Rarity broke the silence. “Twilight, darling, now we know what that machine was and why it malfunctioned, but… you haven’t told us yet what you think about Fluttershy’s disappearance.”

Only after a gentle poke from Starlight did Twilight come back to the here and now. The numbers before her eyes vanished, but she had still heard the question Rarity posed her. She realized now that it was time to share her final theory, however tricky it was.

“Rarity, everypony.” She paused. “ I think… I think…”

Everypony looked at Twilight intently.

“I think I teleported Fluttershy to Middle Earth.”

Twilight could almost feel everypony’s gaze upon her. Some were looking slack-jawed at her, some looked in pain or drowned in sorrow. Nopony was able to speak. Even Starlight had no words for such a theory. Even though she had been working together with Twilight all the time, and understood how the machine worked well enough, the thought of that had never set a tiny hoofstep into her mind.

Starlight looked at her mentor, and saw her crying. Resting two hooves on the table, Twilight’s head was flopped down upon them, her eyes closed, twin trails of silver droplets trickling on the crystal floor. Sometimes her shoulder shocked, although she tried to hide her sobs from her friends.

“What?! But how’s that possible? Fluttershy wasn’t anywhere near the machine, she was standing behind me,” Rarity said.

But her question remained unanswered, because everypony was either thinking to themselves or didn’t know what to say.

Applejack got up from her seat, and walked over to Twilight Sparkle. She took off her hat, and laid a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, keep it together, filly,” she said, warmth and comfort radiating through her voice. Applejack thought back to times where she had comforted Apple Bloom after every failed attempt at gaining her cutie mark. She definitely knew how to comfort somepony, and she was not going to leave her friend down. “It’s not your fault, Twi. Nopony can control the weather.”

But the moment she said that, she bit her lip and glanced towards Rainbow Dash. Of course somepony could control the weather. Pegasi can. Rainbow Dash could.

Rainbow Dash looked back at Applejack, and wisely shut her mouth. She hadn’t thought about it either. She, being a pegasus herself, hadn’t thought about the weather. Rainbow Dash thought about what she had done. She had taken a few days off the weather squad, in order to be able to prepare and participate in Twilight’s second experiment. During those days, she hadn’t looked at the weather predictions at all, knowing that she wouldn’t be flying for a few days, and realizing that the weather would probably be completely different in Middle Earth anyway—it hadn’t mattered. But now the results of this unintended ignorance were visible, and Rainbow cursed beneath her breath. She knew Applejack wasn’t accusing her of anything, but she still felt bad.

Applejack was determined to not let that little mistake stop her, and quickly changed subject. “Don’t worry, Twilight. I’m sure we can fix this. Let’s just… let’s just think in solutions, not problems. Let’s make a list of solutions. You like lists, right? Keeping things organized?”

Gathering her strength, and hearing the warm voice of Applejack, Twilight slowly raised her head. Tears still dripped down from the corners of her eyes, and she spoke in a broken voice. “I-I-I’m afraid that’s not possible. It could take months, even years to fix the machine. I’ll have to start from scrap, building the arc and coding the computers. And then I’m not even talking about the magical energy I must collect. Oh my! Fluttershy, what have I done!”

Feeling the burden of guilt weighing on her shoulders, Twilight’s head dropped again, and her ears lowered. Now Starlight held a hoof on Twilight’s shoulders as well, but it wasn’t helping. Twilight Sparkle was trembling from head to tail.

“Let’s… Let’s leave her alone for a moment,” Starlight Glimmer said. She knew that Twilight would have a chance at regaining her wits that way.

Without a word, the ponies streamed out the throne room. Starlight carefully closed the door with a flash of magic.

No silence this time, but a flurry of questions, aimed directly at Starlight Glimmer. Applejack’s voice proved to be the loudest of them all. “So what exactly is this ‘Middle Earth’,” she asked. “What’s it like?”

Starlight waited for the others to calm down, and then spoke in a soft, almost whispering voice. “It’s a fantasy world where many different races live. Not ponies or zebra’s or griffons, but humanoid creatures. Elves, Hobbits, men, orcs, trolls, Uruk-hai live there. Some of them are good, and some evil; Middle-Earth can be a very dangerous place.”

“How dangerous?” Rarity asked.

“Well, the further East you go, the more dangerous it gets,” Starlight explained. “To the far East is a land called Mordor, where Sauron lives in the Lord of the Rings books. He’s essentially like King Sombra; not actually there in a physical form, but armed with powerful dark magic capable of enslaving other races.”

To that, everypony shuddered. The memories of Sombra were still fresh in their minds. King Sombra, the crystal corruptor, and how he wanted to claim the Crystal Empire for himself and force all the crystal ponies into slavery. The candles dimmed at the mention of his name, or it might also have been because of the name of Sauron, spoken aloud in a world where it didn’t belong.

When the candles gave enough light for the ponies to see each other again, Applejack spoke up. “So… do you have any idea where Fluttershy has been teleported to? How far East?”

Starlight Glimmer Swallowed. “I… I do. When Twilight and I were cleaning up the rubble of the machine, I studied the status reports of the translocator, that’s the part of the machine in which we program the destination. Rainbow Dash, do you remember where we wanted to send you to?”

Rainbow flew up in the air. “Sure. You wanted to send me to the Grey Havens, all the way to the West of Middle Earth. I would appear on one of the elven ships which would sail out of Middle Earth at the end of the book. They would sail to the Undying Lands, where Sauron would never come.”

Everypony sighed in relief. If West meant good, Fluttershy would go as far West as West went.

But Starlight Glimmer’s face was etched with worry. “Well, I have some bad news. The machine had changed both the time in which Fluttershy will appear and the location.”

The relief drooped down everypony’s face. They stared at Starlight with dark looks.

“So where’s she now—when’s she now?” Applejack said.

“According to the status reports, she’s in the Greenwood, somewhere in the middle of Middle Earth.”

To that, Applejack managed a small, careful smile. “But that’s great, isn’t it? You guys know how good Fluttershy is with plants and animals. She’ll be right at home in the Greenwood, right?”

But Starlight Glimmer didn’t smile. “For a time, maybe. But the thing is, the Greenwood will eventually become… eh… let’s just say evil—dark in its own way.” Starlight lowered her gaze to the ground; her eyes wavered. “I… I don’t want to tell too much about it.”

Once again, Applejack was the first to comfort her. “That’s alright, Sugarcube. Let’s hear what Twilight has to say about it first then, shall we?”

“Yes… Let’s… let’s do that,” Starlight said, although those words bore much less hope than the ones Applejack had said.

Chapter three: the silence after the storm

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The name Rhosgobel could have hinted at a small village, or even a city—but it was none of those. From a small clearing arose a tiny, wooden cabin, barely standing out against the surrounding pine trees. Its roof and walls looked rickety and askew, and they creaked ominously in the winds battering against the wood. Beside the little house were some beehives, shaking and shuddering as if all the bees inside of them were afraid of the raging weather—one of them had fallen down and spilled honey and broken combs on the grass. Both the flower garden and the herb garden close to the cottage were soaked by the rain, transformed into muddy plots of land, which would qualify more as a lake than a garden. Had the wind been soft and gentle, and had the sun been shining and warm, Rhosgobel would have looked like an idyllic, pretty little cabin in the woods. Now, however, it looked like a rough shelter from the storm.

But it had to do for now.

With a loud “Stop,” barely audible above the screaming winds, Radagast’s sled came to a halt. The wizard didn’t even bother unlacing the straps of the rabbit’s harnesses, but pulled out a knife and sliced the main rope. “Get inside, everyone!”

The rabbits didn’t need to be told twice, and darted towards the front door, where they disappeared through a few little holes.

Radagast tied his sled to a pole of the fence which surrounded the vegetable garden, just to be sure that it wouldn’t blow away. Then he loosened the hasty knots with which he had tied his foundling against the boards, and carried her over his shoulder.

Still as light as a feather. How remarkable.

A stray gust of wind made Radagast lose his hat, but he snagged it just in time. Quickly he stumbled towards the front door, bashed against it once, twice with his shoulder, and then stumbled inside.

“Phew. That’s over.”

Radagast could hear himself thinking again; only a faint whooshing reminded everyone inside that there was a storm going on outside. Radagast looked around his cabin. Everything was just like he left it, of course—somehow Radagast was always worried about burglars, even though he was the only one living in the Greenwood. The rabbits were busy carrying splinters, sticks, and—with some effort—woodblocks towards the hearth opposite of the door. That was what Radagast had promised them, after all.

But first he had to make a place for his strange visitor. Radagast shuffled over to the corner in which he slept. A small straw bed covered with linen bedsheets was the thing he was looking for, and with a small thud, Radagast placed the pony on his bed. He crouched down, and the first thing he did was to check on her breath. Yes, she was still breathing. He put a hand on her breast. Yes, she her heart was still beating. Her breast and belly, however shallow, moved softly up and down, and her breaths were steady, as if she were just taking a nap. Content, Radagast turned around to see the rabbits gathered right before him on the ground. They looked at Radagast with their shiny eyes.

“Yes, she is alright. She’s still alive,” Radagast said.

The rabbits kept staring at him.

“And yes, I will light a fire now.”

Radagast stood up to go get his tinderbox, but then saw that one of the clever little rabbits had already found it. It shoved the box over to Radagast’s feet.

“Thank you kindly.”

Within a matter of minutes, a small cheerful fire danced in the stone hearth, illuminating the cabin and spreading a warmth which chased away most of the drafts. All of the rabbits were gathered in a circle by the fire. Even when they were off duty, they still maintained the same order as the one in which they ran; so good was the training Radagast had given them.

Radagast himself was sitting with his back to the fire, looking at his bed and the sleeping pony on it. He realized with a shock that he hadn’t even looked at her for longer than a few seconds, and took the welcome respite now to observe her closer.

The pony was completely yellow, save for a pink mane and tail, which flowed in long locks over the mattress and on the floor. Radagast bent down, scooped the dangling bits up with his hands, and laid them onto the mattress. “Hmm… feels like ordinary horse-hair,” he mumbled.

Radagast hadn’t seen the eyes of the yellow pony yet, but he was already fantasizing about which extraordinary color they would have. With a pony that peculiar looking, it should certainly be something unique as well. Apart from her long, flowing mane and tail, there was another thing that stood out. On the pony’s flank, there were three little butterflies, fluttering in an unseen wind. Radagast couldn’t stop wondering what they were, what they meant, what they represented, or why they were there. Careful not to disturb her rest, Radagast rubbed his hand over the butterflies. No paint came off, much to the wizard’s surprise.

Now that he was closer to her, he saw a couple of bruises tainting her yellow coat, and a few red scrapes also ran down her legs. Probably of the trip, Radagast thought, and proceeded to examine the pony’s wings. Carefully, as if he was scared to break them, Radagast folded one wing out. It didn’t go that far, as its wingspan was about an arm’s-length. Radagast had seen many wings before; many wings of many birds. Many birds’ wings which he had set, healed, or bandaged, and this wing was no different; it was just bigger. Radagast saw a few missing feathers; a few were bent too. Nothing too severe.

But when Radagast looked down over the wing, he noticed strange black blotches covering the pony’s face and back. They looked like burn marks.

Folding back the wing, Radagast turned around and began pacing to and fro, making sure to search in every corner of his house, making sure to search every shelf and table for pans, glass vials, herbs, books about medicine, and anything else he thought might help the wounded pony heal. As he was busy collecting, Radagast quickly snagged a book about mythological creatures in Middle Earth, secretly hoping that the yellow pony with wings would be in it.

For the next few hours, Radagast set to work. He created a strong-smelling concoction of stamped herbs and boiling water, with which he gently dabbed the pony’s scrapes and wounds. With the aroma of the first potion still lingering in the air, Radagast started on the next one, a magical potion which would make sure that the wounds and burns would heal quickly and painlessly. He muttered many words of a language ancient and foreign over the bubbling cauldron, and then smeared the green paste on the pony’s sore spots.

A few birds came flying down their branches, suspended through the cottage, and landed on top of Radagast’s head. Tilting their heads and hopping from one spot to the other, they were no doubt wondering who this winged creature was, and if it was perhaps related to their own kind.

“I have no idea,” Radagast said, finishing treating the last ash-marked burn. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and slumped down on a wooden chair. Despite the pony’s injuries being only light, and definitely non-lethal, Radagast still felt nervous. He guessed that the pony was unconscious, and that she would probably recover with some rest. But on the other hand, she could also be in a coma, and take a month to wake up. With a worried sigh, Radagast reached for the book on Middle Earth’s mythical creatures, put in on the table, and began to read by the light of a small candle.

The birds hopped from his head onto the tabletop and stared at the wizard with tilted heads.

“You tell me,” Radagast said. “You’re the flying experts, after all.”

But the birds had no idea, and fluttered up and away.

Radagast leafed through the thick, leather-bound volume. “P… p… p… pony,” he muttered under his breath. The word, ‘pony,’ was not in it, however. Of course he found Shadowfax, and a big host of other well-known steeds. Some had served kings or warlords, carrying them bravely into battle and sometimes even out of them. Others had been messengers, prized for their almost supernatural speed at which they had delivered vital information about politics or military business. The last chapter was about the horses of the elves, who were supposed to be magical and have powers of their own. Radagast quickly skipped that part, however, as he knew it was only based off speculation. It was a book made by men, after all, and men—even if they claimed otherwise—had often not had that many dealings with elves, and nor did many want to.

Nothing.

Nothing on horses gifted with the ability to fly, but Radagast didn’t give up. He leafed further through the book, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. He searched for the word, ‘wing,’ but found nothing useful. Then he searched for, ‘bird,’ but found only famous falcons and falconers, carrier pigeons, and the great eagles with their king. Nothing, however, on flying horses.

With a heavy sigh, Radagast closed the book, sprinkling dust into the air. “Nothing, nothing, nothing.” He stood up, and put the book back on its shelf, next to countless other books about countless other things. Animals, herbs, natural medicines, farming, crops, the seasons, and even some books containing ancient knowledge and spells that were forgotten to the world. Radagast had all gained them from Gandalf, who had taken the effort to collect his friend’s favorite topics and bring them along at every visit.

“Oh! I wish Gandalf were here. He would definitely know what kind of creature she is. He has travelled almost everywhere in Middle Earth. Surely he must have seen something like this yellow horse on his path, don’t you think?”

But as he turned around to look at his rabbits, Radagast saw that they were gone, probably to the vegetable garden to save what could be saved from the destructive storm.

Then Radagast lightened up. His thoughts traveled to the animals he had befriended, and he remembered the pair of peregrine falcons which lived on his roof in a nest. Long ago, Radagast had built a birdhouse upon his own cottage. He had decided to make it a bit big, and then wait and see what kind of bird would come and call it its home. It proved to be a couple of peregrine falcons, one of the fastest birds in Middle Earth.

Radagast pulled on his mantle, throwing the hood over his head, and braced himself to brave the storm once more, albeit for a short time. The door almost flew into his face, and he heard a loud sizzle as the wind intruded the cottage and made short work of the hearth fire. Radagast gritted his teeth, and stepped outside.

“Hello! Anybody home?”

But the wind grabbed Radagast’s words and flung them far away.

“Hello! Mister and Missus… eh…” Radagast tried to concentrate and remember their names, which was a daunting task of its own in these conditions. It was as if the wind tried to blow every thought out of the wizard’s head, but after a few minutes, Radagast lighted up.

“Swiftwing! Arrowhead! Are you there?”

A duet of high-pitched squawks returned Radagast’s call, and Radagast could see some scuttling feathers.

“Swiftwing, Arrowhead, do you know of ponies that can fly? Have you ever heard of such a creature?”

For a good while, Radagast explained to the peregrine falcons everything that had happened. The lightning bolt, the strange pony, and a very detailed explanation on her physical features. At the end of his tale, his throat felt sore because of the battle between his voice and the howling of the wind, and for a tiny moment, Radagast felt like a fool, asking two birds if they had ever heard of flying horses in the middle of a thunderstorm. But nevertheless, after a very rainy half hour, he got his answer.

A small grey head with a clever eyes came into view and looked down on their friend. Quickly it retreated back into the wooden structure; even the peregrine falcon didn’t want to spend too long in the ungodly weather.

But Radagast had already seen his answer in the falcon’s eyes: “No.”

“Thank you!” Radagast yelled, and then hurried back inside.

With a thud he closed the door behind him, and gave it a bash with his shoulder for good measure. He felt a little disappointed at the fact that he still had no idea what in Middle Earth lay down on his bed, and he sighed under his breath. Radagast hung his cloak to a branch sticking out of the wood, when he felt something brush against his leg.

“Oh, hello there,” Radagast said to the rabbit, ”back again to the warmth?”

But the warmth had almost left the cottage again, and had seeped through the many cracks in the wooden walls. The rabbit was rubbing its nose against Radagast’s leg and pointing at something with its little front paw.

“Of course, I’ll do it immediately,” Radagast said. He grabbed his tinderbox from the mantelpiece, crouched down by the blackened logs, still hot to the touch, and started throwing some sparks into the hearth.

But the rabbit kept tugging at his robes.

“Yes, yes, I’m almost done. Don’t worry about it, little rabbit, I’ve done this a million times.”

“H-h-hello?”

Radagast sighed. “Yes, I know you’re there. I know you’re cold. Just let me focus for a small little moment and then we can both enjoy the fire again.”

But then a shock like an icy, rain-bearing gust of wind made Radagast’s body jolt. He bumped his head against the mantelpiece, but ignored the pain as he was too busy realizing something.

His rabbits couldn’t talk in human speech.

No animal friend of his could talk in human speech.

Radagast spun around on his knees, not even bothering to stand up, and gazed right at the yellow pony, staring into her eyes on the same height as his own. She had deep-blue eyes.

Both pony and wizard gave out a yell. The rabbit quickly fled to another room of the cottage, completely forgetting about the fire. The birds stopped tweeting and followed the rabbit, knowing when their human friend needed a little space. A few mice and squirrels shot across the floor into their little gaps between the boards, and a second later, Radagast and the pony were alone.

The pony’s eyes grew in horror, and she felt panic flash its tendrils around her chest. She breathed in and out frantically, and let out another yell. Withdrawing from the wizard, the yellow pony fell backwards, landing on the bed where she had lain moments ago. She felt the tendrils of panic searching for her fight or flight instinct, failing to find it, and instead making her curl up into a yellow-coated ball of fright.

Radagast had rolled back at the sudden yelp, plunging into an awkward roll and finally coming to a standstill against the all too familiar mantelpiece. This time he didn’t feel the bump either, as a burst of adrenaline, cultivated by the sudden shock, tempered the pain.

When at last everything was silent again, save for the creaking of the cottage, teased by the wind, and the spattering rain against the roof, amplified like the hollow body of a lute, Radagast stood up straight. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t even entirely sure that the creature had just… talked. Radagast knew he often imagined his own animals speaking to him, which was more than understandable, having spent more days of his life among animals than among humans; and, of course, being able to understand some animal languages. Slowly, wincing as every step creaked on the wooden floor, Radagast advanced on the little, shivering ball lying on his bed. Above the sound of his footsteps, he could hear her chattering teeth.

“You… You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

No answer came; Radagast stepped closer.

“Do you… speak the common tongue?”

Again, nothing but clattering teeth and shaking hooves.

Radagast tried something else; she was a horse, after all. “Can I help you perhaps? Would you like anything? Water? Hay? A carrot maybe?”

This time, Radagast was sure that he heard something, but the sound was muffled and distant, lost in a whisper and a wheeze.

Very carefully, Radagast bent over the trembling heap towards where he figured her head should be. Very, very faintly, he could hear what she was saying.

“I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home,” over and over again with a high, soft voice.

Again Radagast jolted. This pony could talk like he did. But he quickly whisked away his astonishment, for Radagast knew enough. This pony had probably lost her group and had wandered around the forest. Who knows how long she had been walking through the dense shrubs and giant trees; lost, scared, disorientated. Who knows how long she had been looking for her friends, her family, the strong stallions which would watch over her.

Radagast thought back about one time when he had found a stray horse, some years ago. It wasn’t anything like the yellow, winged creature he had found now, but a great brown mare who had lost the rest of the group to which she belonged. In the end, after a long and thoughtful conversation with the animal, Radagast had figured out where she had come from; the plains of Rohan, land of the horse-lords. She had been in very bad shape when he found her, almost starved to death. Radagast had fed her back to health, and had even used her as a pack and riding animal from time to time, until the day that she had regained all her strength, and Radagast had to acknowledge that she was not his own. He had eased the mare, whispered the location of the grassy plains of Rohan into her ear, and sent her on her way. He had never seen her again since. Lost in the cloud of nostalgia, Radagast realized that he hadn’t even given her a name. He wondered if this horse had a name.

So Radagast knew what to do. He walked to the tiny kitchen, seeing a few of the rabbits which had fled the scene nibbling on some leftover vegetables. Grabbing some lettuce, some carrots, and filling a bowl with water from a barrel, he returned and put both food and drink down next to the bed. “You must be hungry, my little pony. You can have some of this if you want. I have much more if you’re done with this and you’re still hungry.”

Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps it was the friendly, high voice of Radagast, or perhaps it was both. The yellow pony’s nose twitched, and she sniffed the air. Very slowly, she peeked from beyond her hooves, and saw both the lunch on the ground and the wizard opposite of her. She blinked her big, blue eyes; she could see again, but only realized that now. That little fact certainly eased her mind. She craned her neck, reached down, and took a bite off one of the carrots. She didn’t stop until it was all gone, and only then did she dare to look up at the strange creature before her, who was gazing at her as if he’d never before seen a horse eat vegetables. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re most welcome,” Radagast said back. The pony flinched at the sudden sound, as if Radagast were screaming in her ear. She too, had to get used to his voice and his talk.

Radagast saw it. “Shall I leave you alone for now? I still need to make some food for myself as well.”

The yellow pony nodded, so Radagast retreated to the kitchen.

Evening fell over the Greenwood. Slowly but steadily, the wind became tired of blowing and settled down more and more, until it was nothing more than a refreshing breeze. The trees stopped moaning and rustling, having lost most of their leaves already. Rhosgobel also stopped shaking and creaking, and the rain lost its their cloudy allies, so slowed down grudgingly and then disappeared altogether. A bright, full moon shone high in a star-speckled sky. Radagast almost didn’t even need to light any candles, he could see perfectly what he was doing under the silver moonlight.

Radagast’s night animals quickly skittered outside, deciding that this night would be perfect for hunting; calm and brightly lit. His chickens went to their pens to sleep, and most of the birds fluttered to their hanging branches. Only a few of them remained awake with Radagast in the kitchen, no doubt unable to sleep because of the delicious scents of Radagast’s cooking skills.

Radagast was making a vegetable stew. One by one he threw the ingredients into the pan while humming a gentle tune and stirring the brew. Of course he knew that horses didn’t normally eat food like this, but he still kept some behind for his guest, just in case. An hour later, he hung his head above the cooking pot and breathed in deep.

“Hmm… It’s missing something…”

Radagast opened a couple of cupboards, pulled out a small jar, and sprayed some of the contents into his brew. Once more he sniffed above the stew.

“Yes, just right!”

With a big spoon and a content smile, he filled his bowl and headed back to the living room.

“Hello again,” Radagast said cheerfully. Then he looked down and saw that the little pony was staring at her empty bowl. She muttered something so soft, Radagast couldn’t hear it.

“Would you like some more?” Radagast asked.

Raising her head, but avoiding the wizard’s gaze, the yellow pony tried to say something. “Eh… I… I would…”

“Don’t be shy, little pony. You’re my guest, after all.”

“I… I would like to have some of that, ” the pony said, nodding towards Radagast’s steaming bowl. “It… it smells so good.”

Radagast chuckled. “Of course it smells good, because it is good. You can have this one here; I’ll get some for myself. It’s vegetable stew, by the way, my favorite dish.”

With that, he put down the bowl and disappeared back into the kitchen. A few minutes later he re-emerged with another bowl of stew, sat down, and began slurping up the delicious brew.

They ate in silence. Both creatures were too hungry to talk, and before long Radagast had refilled their bowls two times. He had also grabbed a hunk of bread and shared it with his pony visitor, just slightly amazed by her appetite. Radagast wondered when was the last time she’d eaten, and if she would be able to cook something as well, already having displaying the gift of flight and speech.

Suddenly, one of the birds, not yet asleep, swooped down upon the table and began nibbling at some breadcrumbs.

“Alexander, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Radagast said to the bird.

The little bird gave out a tweet, and then flew over to the yellow pony to land on her ear. It had obviously chosen a side. It let out a few tweets, and looked with accusing eyes at the wizard.

“Who would have thought,” Radagast said, “he seems to like you.”

The yellow pony gazed up and saw the bird sitting contently on her ear. It shifted a few times, and then hopped over to settle on her mane, deciding that that would be a more comfortable spot. The pony saw that it was a robin, burying its cheerful red belly into the warm pink hairs of her mane. A smile curled on her lips at the familiar, tickling feeling. It reminded her of home and all of the other animals she called her friends. Silently, the pony wondered if he could sing as good as her own birds. A soft, warm feeling welled up inside of her. It was as if the warmth of the hearth fire had just started to warm her now. The glow spread from her hooves to her head, and pretty memories of home drifted by before her eyes. She felt a little more at ease now with a warm home, a full belly, and pleasurable company. If only just a little.

“Yes,” the pony said with a voice as soft as silk. “Is he… yours?”

Radagast smiled as well, seeing the change that had befallen his frightened new guest. “Yes he is. I found him one morning when he was just a tiny little egg. His mother had left the nest behind, I think. Perhaps she thought the wilderness just a tad too wild and dangerous, and decided to move to a better place. So I took the egg, along with the whole nest, into my house and, well, from one came another, and soon he was born. We have been good friends ever since, and he likes to play with my other robins as well. He has learned a lot from me, and the other way around too.”

“What a wonderful story,” the yellow pony said, eyes glittering. “What was his name again?”

“Alexander,” Radagast said, “Alexander Robinson.”

The tiny little bird, having heard its name, peeked from the flowing pink hairs and dropped down on the bed, as if he wanted to introduce himself to the yellow pony. He tweeted, head held high, and flapped his wings a few times, showing off his beautiful scarlet belly.

Radagast looked at the scene with gentle eyes. Finally he couldn’t withhold his curiosity any longer, and he asked, “Do you have a name too, little pony?”

The pony looked up from the bird to meet Radagast’s gaze. “Yes. My name is Fluttershy.”

“Fluttershy,” the wizard repeated. His mouth worked even after he spoke the word, as if tasting the strange combination of syllables. He had never heard such an unusual name. It sounded kind of funny, but also strange and foreign. Outlandish. Somehow Radagast had the feeling that this yellow flying pony was not from Middle Earth.

Suddenly he started. Alexander flew away. “Oh! Where are my manners. I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Radagast the brown, warden of the Greenwood.”

The wizard reached out a hand, and Fluttershy, after a moment of hesitation, returned the handshake—Radagast felt that her hoof was still shaking a little bit.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Fluttershy? You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Fluttershy looked down at the floor. She had no idea where to start with the thousands of questions which inhabited her mind. She had suddenly woken up in the middle of a strange forest, deafened, blinded. Then she’d fallen unconscious and woken up in this strange house with this strange creature. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then spoke anyway. “What… happened?”

Radagast shoved his chair closer to the yellow pony and put his elbows on his knees, looking straight at her. In the light of the moon, Fluttershy could see his old, gentle face covered in wrinkles. His eyes spoke of a million extraordinary things seen in his life, radiating calmness and wisdom beyond comparison. But the most striking feature was his long beard, streaked with grey. Fluttershy couldn’t help but think about of all the paintings she had seen of Starswirl the Bearded in the halls of Canterlot Castle, who had worn a beard much like Radagast’s, only whiter.

And Fluttershy kept looking at him, as Radagast told of the moment he had seen her lying on the forest floor, right in the middle of a growing storm. He told her about how he’d put her on his sled and rode back to Rhosgobel in the furious weather. And his tale was surprisingly short. Those were the only moments he had spent with Fluttershy up until now, and of course he couldn’t possibly know what had befallen the little horse before those.

Fluttershy trembled with the tale, and silently considered herself lucky that she was unconscious during the wild ride to Rhosgobel. But… where was Rhosgobel?

Radagast wasn’t at all surprised that Fluttershy had never heard the name of his home, as only a handful of people in Middle Earth actually knew about it and where it lay—a secret Radagast intended to keep. But of course he would tell it to Fluttershy; it could do no harm. “It’s in the Greenwood,” he said. “My house stands on the southwest border of the woods, but actually I consider all of the Greenwood my home, as I need the forest and the plants, the streams and the earth, as much as they need me.”

“They… need you?”

“Indeed they do. I am the warden of the Greenwood, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy raised an eyebrow, but even that motion was gentle and soft, as soft as her eyes. “What does a warden do?”

“I… Well…” Radagast suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Actually he was the one who had questions on his mind. How could he possibly explain his important, delicate task to a simple woodland creature? He tried it anyway. “I look after the owls and the deer, the squirrels and the mice, the robins and the wolves; but also after the plants and the trees. I make sure the balance of nature is upheld, so that there is no chaos in the woods.”

That wasn’t an answer Fluttershy had expected. But it was also an answer which was very familiar to her. The task Radagast mentioned was very similar to her own. “That’s… a good task,” Fluttershy said. “I-I love plants and animals too, you know. Love them a lot. Often I also take in sick or injured animals to help them get better. It’s my special talent.”

“How remarkable,” Radagast said. He could see the glimmer in the pony’s eyes, and he knew that she wasn’t only speaking the truth, but revealing her most intimate profession as well. For a second, he considered telling her about the rest of his task; the part of which even the most clever men knew nothing about; the element of the world most mortals ignored—but of course, he couldn’t tell that to anyone, and doubted if anyone would understand.

Fluttershy stopped speaking, looking at the doubtful face of Radagast and wondering whether she’d said something wrong. The piercing eyes of the wizard suddenly looked unsure and searching for words, and Fluttershy averted hers in the awkward silence. She looked instead around Rhosgobel, and found plenty of things to look at.

The closest thing Fluttershy could compare Rhosgobel with would be Zecora’s home. Just as in Zecora’s cottage in the Everfree forest, shelves of every possible height and length snaked against the wooden walls. Each of them was packed to the rim with bottles, vials, bowls, pestles, jars, and many more objects which Fluttershy couldn’t recognize. Often there were herbs, flowers, or powders inside the jars, and now that Fluttershy paid more attention to it, she noticed the mixed, funny smell atop the smell of Radagast’s vegetable stew, which they emitted. Other things were stacked upon the shelves as well. Books, mostly, but those were scattered all around, not just on shelves. A few wooden chests without locks, a few candles here and there, and two or three barrels, almost larger than she herself, filled the rest of the cramped living room. Fluttershy wondered just how many of those Radagast had made himself.

Suddenly, Fluttershy saw something sparkle in one darkened corner of the house. She squinted her eyes to see what it was. A crystal, but not only that. The crystal was embedded into a staff, the top split and gnarled like twisting fingers, which held the crystal in place. It shone with a pale blue light, seeming to pulse brighter when she looked at it. A cold and curious light.

Fluttershy couldn’t stop looking at the staff, which looked eerily similar to a unicorn’s horn, the way it shone strangely in the darkness. A shiver ran down her spine, as Fluttershy started thinking about everything she’d just seen. The herbs and ingredients wouldn’t only be handy for making stew or seasoning other dishes, but could also be used in potions, much like Zecora did. And the staff… It looked so much like a unicorn’s horn. Could it be magical? But that meant that Radagast would be a magician. Was this strange creature gifted with the art of magic? Was it a good magic, or an evil kind of magic? Fluttershy thought all of this over, but still decided to ask the question. Carefully, as if it might break upon her tongue, she asked, “Radagast, are you… a magician?”

So after all, Radagast didn’t have to wonder whether or not he would tell his true nature to Fluttershy, as she’d already guessed it. “Yes,” Radagast said. “I am a wizard. One of five, actually.”

Fluttershy didn’t know how to react, and felt herself shuffling more to the back of the bed, until she felt the wooden boards of the wall prod her in the back.

“No you don’t have to be afraid!” Radagast said, motioning with his hands. “I’m not an evil magician. And neither are the others, in fact. I specialize in magic used to heal things, to bring life. My task is not only to uphold the balance of nature, but also the magic which runs through all of the Greenwood. It connects every living thing together, and the slightest imbalance might contort chaos or destruction.”

Seeing his explanation having no effect on Fluttershy, and searching for her evading eyes, he decided to tell her even more, although he wasn’t sure if she would understand all of it. Radagast cleared his throat and stroked his beard. “I am a wizard, Fluttershy. Long ago, I was sent from the undying lands here, to Middle Earth to do a task given to me by a much higher power.”

Radagast swore he could see Fluttershy flinch at his words, and reckoned her still very afraid, so he continued in a softer voice.

“Each of us, Saruman, Gandalf, the two blue wizards, and me, were given a different task to perform in the mortal world. Together we form an order, with Saruman the White being the leader of them. He lives in the great tower of Orthanc in the valley of Isengard. But I haven’t spoken to him in a while, so about his doings, I cannot tell you much.

“Gandalf, on the other hand”—Radagast closed his eyes and let out a chuckle—“is one of my best friends. His full name is Gandalf the Grey, and his task usually involves travelling from land to land and delivering news and messages vital for Middle Earth’s politics. Sometimes he visits me, and then we have long, pleasant chats about the world beyond Rhosgobel and the Greenwood. A world in which I try to keep my hands off as much as possible. I’m sure you will like him as well. He can be quite… jolly sometimes. Especially after a visit in the Shire, among the Hobbit folk he so adores.”

Once again, Fluttershy’s eyes opened wide for a split-second, before returning to the uncomfortable gaze.

“But I’m trailing off here,” Radagast said, taking the gesture as a hint to get to the point with his story. “I’ll try to explain to you how it all works, and what I do here in the Greenwood.” Radagast shifted on his seat, as if bracing himself for the words he would speak. “You see, Fluttershy, there is an unseen force here in Middle Earth. It is not something you can see; it is something you must feel. It’s an energy, an essence, which flows in every living being.” He pointed at Fluttershy, then back at himself. “It flows through you, through me, through all the plants and animals you can think of. But if you ask anybody else about it, they will either call you mad or a sorcerer; I suppose the two go hand-in-hand.”

Fluttershy still wasn’t daring enough to look at the wizard’s striking eyes, but her ears were aimed in his direction.

“It’s called magic, Fluttershy. It’s a concept not many understand, but it’s here and it has always been here. We as wizards are able to draw upon this energy and interweave it with our own. We can make words which summon the energy and then bend or shape it to our liking. We can make potions or brews infused with this energy to do marvelous things. We can steer it, amplify it, and sometimes even give it to others… or take it away.”

At those last words, Fluttershy shivered.

“It is a very delicate thing, magic, and must not be taken lightly. That is why only five of us are naturally born with the ability to control magic on such a big scale. Of course, there are other magical races. Elves, for example, have a natural talent for learning magic and a knack for using it. They can learn spells, craft magical objects and enchant them to make them even more powerful or possess special abilities. In a certain way, magic can be learned, from books written by older minds and steadier hands.”

All of this Fluttershy not only heard, but understood. She thought back and compared the magic described by Radagast to her own knowledge of the magical arts. Magic was an everyday thing for her. It was not that she was magical at all, but she had many friends who practiced certain types of magic. There were Celestia and Luna, the princess sisters who used their magic to raise the sun and the moon. There were all the unicorns in Ponyville, using simple spells to make everyday life even more pleasant. And of course, there were her friends. Rarity the unicorn, gifted with the magic to decorate and make things nicer. To create all kinds of artistic works and fashion; a skill Fluttershy sometimes felt a bit jealous of. And Twilight Sparkle, the alicorn princess of friendship, who had studied magic all her life and had earned with that both the wings of an alicorn and her ascension to royalty; to be the princess of friendship and represent the most powerful element of the six: magic.

But not only did the magic of Equestria cause comfort, creativity, or friendship. Fluttershy’s mind strayed to darker times and darker places. To the evil king Sombra, who had used his dark, hate-fueled magic to corrupt the horns of other unicorns and the very essence of the Crystal Empire. To the evil Queen Chrysalis who fed on the love of other living beings in order to use magic and produce a swarm of hideous changeling ponies, capable of using their magic to shapeshift into other living creatures. The pictures of the changelings flew by before Fluttershy’s eyes in a never-ending swarm. Not only was it their frightening look, but also the paranoia they had induced among the population of Canterlot—and her friends—that made a cold feeling creep through her body. Lastly, her mind encountered Tirek, the centaur which had absorbed and stolen the magic of unicorns only to become stronger himself, and to which even Twilight Sparkle, almost, had to yield.

Fluttershy retracted her hooves and wrapped her tail around herself as if to protect against her own thoughts. She tried to speak, but only a breath escaped her mouth. She tried it again, and this time she managed to form words. “I-I-Is all magic good?”

She knew the answer the moment she posed the question.

Radagast’s features darkened, and he furrowed his brow. “No,” he said with a grave voice. “There is also black magic. As magic can be learned, it can also be abused. With great power comes great responsibility, and not everyone in the history of Middle Earth has been able to prove himself worthy of wielding magic. Kings have used magic to gain power only for themselves. A Dark Lord had forged a magical ring, forged it with both fire and hate, to empower himself and enslave other races. His most unfortunate victims were nine human kings, who received lesser magical rings from the Dark Lord and were ignorant enough to think that it was an act of peace, perhaps even friendship. It was not. They were deceived, and their spirits had been stirred and employed to serve the Dark Lord, obeying no one but the Dark Lord and his ring, the One Ring. A long and terrible war has been fought over that ring, and still the artifact hasn’t been destroyed. It has simply… vanished and forgotten.”

“What was he called, the d-d-dark lord?”

“I will not speak that name aloud,” Radagast said. “It will neither ease your mind nor lighten the mood. His title will have to suffice.”

But even at the mention of the title, the fire in the hearth stirred uneasily. Even the light of the moon was extinguished for a moment, as perhaps a thin, ragged cloud obscured it for a moment. There was a silence.

Suddenly Radagast stood up. “I can hardly see you in front of me, little pony,” he said, trying to sound cheerful despite the lingering memory of the darkness. “Let me get some candles so we can see to whom we are speaking and listening to. To whom and to what,” he added.

As Radagast began scurrying around and digging in chests and boxes, Fluttershy thought about everything she had heard. Not only about the magic, but also about the names she had heard so far. Middle Earth, Gandalf, Hobbits, the Ring; all names which sounded familiar to her.

A snap sounded, and a bright, orange flame danced on top of a candle, held tightly in the wizard’s hand.

And at that same instant, it dawned to Fluttershy.

The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring. Part one of the trilogy.

It was the book Twilight Sparkle had given to her. She had insisted that Fluttershy should read it, although she didn’t want to tell why at the time. Of course, Fluttershy never let her friends down, so she had started reading the book. The cover looked nice enough: a wide river flanked on either side by enormous statues of kings, holding out their hands in a sign of welcome—or was it a sign of warning? Fluttershy had read about the cheerful Hobbit folk; short and pointy-eared, enjoying the peaceful, quiet rural life, much like Fluttershy herself did in her own cottage in the woods. Then Gandalf came along, and visited Frodo Baggins, one particular Hobbit, after his uncle Bilbo had gone to travel. From then on, however, the tale had quickly darkened, and Fluttershy hadn’t enjoyed it that much anymore. Gandalf told Frodo many mysterious things, the tale about the Ring which Bilbo had left behind for Frodo—exactly the same story which Radagast had told her. After that, the book went darker and darker, growing more uncomfortable by the page. Ringwraiths, evil servants of the Dark Lord, chased Frodo and his friends on their journey to the elven city of Rivendell, transforming what should have been a merry hike into a bone-chilling death-race. But Fluttershy couldn’t take it anymore at that point. Barely halfway through the book, she had closed it and put it on her mantelpiece with trembling hooves. As much as she loved to help and do favors for her friends, Fluttershy had decided that the book was simply too scary for her, and was going to talk to Twilight about it.

Except that she had simply forgotten to talk to Twilight about the book. Forgotten, or reluctant? Perhaps a bit of both.

Having read only a small portion of the trilogy, Fluttershy hadn’t reached the part of the book were Radagast was mentioned—which wasn’t long at all. Barely a few sentences were written about Radagast the Brown in Tolkien’s trilogy, but that didn’t stop Radagast from existing right before Fluttershy’s nose.

Radagast just finished putting the last candle into a makeshift chandelier, when Fluttershy asked another question. “We are in Middle Earth, aren’t we?”

Radagast looked up from underneath the chandelier, the glow illuminating his confused face, although he knew he could have seen this one coming. “Yes, of course we are. Didn’t I mention that to you?”

“I… I think you did. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure.”

“No need to apologize, little mare,” Radagast said, climbing down from the table to settle down on his chair. “I understand that you must be very confused.”

“Yes… I am.” Then Fluttershy yawned, much to the wizard’s surprise; he had probably never seen a horse yawn.

“Are you feeling tired, Fluttershy? Oh, silly me, of course you’re tired. You know, we can talk more in the morning if you want. I would love to know some more about you as well.”

Fluttershy nodded, and let out another yawn.

“You can sleep right here if you want, then I’ll sleep on the ground.”

“Are you sure?” Fluttershy said. “I can sleep on the ground as well. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Radagast recoiled as if he suddenly saw a mouse. “Of course you’re not a nuisance! You are my guest, and I want you to feel at home in my humble cottage. You can sleep anywhere you want. I just want you to be comfortable. You know, I’ll go and get some more blankets. Winter is getting closer and closer, after all.”

With that he trotted off, up an unseen ladder to the second floor. Dust sprinkled down and Fluttershy heard the wizard’s clumsy footsteps reverberate through the wood. After a minute or two he returned, carrying a bunch of cloaks and sacks made of ragged brown linen. “Here you go, pony,” he said, throwing them all right on top of the little horse.

Fluttershy giggled as she dug through the dusty cloths, digging herself out of the pile. When her head finally emerged, she gazed at the old wizard, who bore a funny smile on his face. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Radagast said. “I look forward to our conversation tomorrow. I’m sure it will be very exciting… eh… to me I mean.”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, and started arranging the pieces of cloth to make a little nest for herself.

Radagast slid the table to the side and the chair with it. He draped a few of his spare cloaks on the ground as a makeshift mattress. Then he went to the kitchen, emptied a few sacks, and rolled them up to serve as a pillow. When he came back, the pony was already asleep.

“Even her snoring is soft,” Radagast observed.

As he laid his head down on the sackcloth, he felt the soothing wave of sleep wash over him like a gentle current. What a day it was, and what a day it would be tomorrow. However, before Radagast slid into the dreaming world, he heard a faint sound from his right. A faint, soft voice, almost a whisper, talking in the darkness, repeating the same words in a droning cadence; “I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home.”

Tomorrow, Radagast thought, I’ll help you get home, Fluttershy.

Chapter four: how come?

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Fluttershy awoke at the sound of tweeting birds. One particular bird, Alexander the robin, whistled close to Fluttershy’s ear, but nevertheless, the yellow pony wasn’t startled at all. In fact, she couldn’t think of a more peaceful way to wake up; couldn’t think of a more natural way.

She lifted her head and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. For a moment, she thought back about her dreams; just a hazy dark fog in her head. She knew she had dreamt about home, about Ponyville. The pleasant morning, however, combined with the smell of freshly baked bread, soon whisked all those thoughts and memories away, and brought Fluttershy back to where she was.

Sitting down on the bed, Fluttershy looked out of the round window at the unknown world beyond it; Middle Earth. She could see part of what looked like a vegetable garden, although it had suffered greatly in its battle against the rainstorm. The rest of the earth didn’t look any less muddy, and small, mirroring puddles spotted the yard. As Fluttershy looked further ahead, she saw the massive trees looming over Rhosgobel. Pine trees, Fluttershy saw, but they were much bigger than any pine tree she’d ever seen; even the Everfree forest didn’t house trees that big. From an unseen source, bright sunlight shone overhead through a thin layer of morning mist. It made it look as if columns of light descended from the skies to make the scene look even more pretty than it already was. Fluttershy tried to see past the trees, but dense shrubs and trunks of more trees blocked any view of the rest of the forest, leaving the inside of it a mystery.

Alexander flew up and landed on Fluttershy’s head, looking outside as well and greeting the morning with the same feeling of peace as Fluttershy. His concentration wasn’t as long as the pony’s, however, and he soon flew off again and towards the kitchen, attracted by the scent of tasty treats.

Fluttershy turned around and watched him go, and at that moment, Radagast walked inside with a plate full of steaming hot bread.

“Oh, hello there, Fluttershy. You’re awake I see. Did you have sweet dreams?” Not just a formality; Radagast was actually curious about what flying, talking horses would be dreaming about.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, although she wasn’t sure if she spoke the truth, for the sweet memory of home had also filled her with worry.

Radagast put the bread down on the table and grabbed a chair for Fluttershy. “Sit down, little pony. I’ll make you some breakfast. I have sandwiches with honey, eggs, salad, cucumber, and—believe it or not— I also have hay!”

Fluttershy let out a gentle laugh. “That sounds perfect.”

A moment later they were eating, Radagast cutting slice after slice and occasionally holding up his hands to feed his birds some breadcrumbs as well. Fluttershy once again proved to have an enormous appetite for a pony her size… and weight, and Radagast couldn’t help but look at how the pony ate. She used her hooves and mouth to hold the knife and cut slices of bread, after which she carefully topped her bread with the many ingredients Radagast had gathered. He was amazed at her modest and proper table manners; she was sure to keep her mouth closed when eating, and didn’t speak with a full mouth. It was almost as if she was eating like a human, with the appetite of a hobbit, and table manners of an elf.

When they were done, Radagast led out a large burp. “Oops, excuse me there,” he said with a smile. “Care for a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

While Radagast was away putting the kettle on, Fluttershy thought about the many ingredients she’d just seen, and how many actually resembled ordinary things she could eat in Ponyville as well. It was strange how she felt both outlandish and familiar at the same time. But she felt good. The familiarity and resemblances gave her some comfort, and she could feel that from the inside.

Radagast came back, and soon they found themselves talking over two steaming cups of herbal tea. Even the tea tasted similar to the Equestrian blend.

After a little sip, Radagast placed his cup back on the saucer, and folded his hands together. “When I found you, Fluttershy, you were lying all alone on the forest ground. Did you lose your group? Your family? Your friends?”

Fluttershy put her cup down too, and looked at the wizard’s old eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve lost my friends. But… you must understand something. I-I-I am… How should I say this… I am… eh…”

“Not from Middle Earth?” Radagast finished for her, and at the same time confirming his guesses.

“Yes. Not from Middle Earth.”

Radagast flashed a smile. “I thought it so.” He grabbed his tea and took another sip.

“How did you know?” Fluttershy asked.

“I heard you talk in your sleep, Fluttershy. I know that you want to go home, wherever that might be. Your home being another land is actually just a product of my fantasizing mind. So, can you tell me where it is? This world of yours? I have a couple of maps of Middle Earth between these books somewhere.” With that, he stood up and walked towards a large bookcase, then started digging through his volumes. “Ah! Here it is.”

“Eh… maybe,” Fluttershy said, although she wasn’t sure if she would be able to see her land, her world on a map from Middle Earth.

Nevertheless, a few tattered, yellowed parchments came raining down on the table, and Radagast rolled them out. “I presume you can read maps, of course,” he said, as he pinned down the corners of the map with empty cups and bowls.

“I can,” Fluttershy said, but the moment those words left her lips, they lost all meaning.

The map on the table looked nothing like Equestria. Where Equestria was a land sandwiched between two seas—the Celestial Sea to the East, and the Luna Ocean to the West—Middle Earth was like a peninsula, with only one big ocean to the West. Furthermore, the mountains, which formed a great northern ridge in Equestria, ran like a spine vertically from East to West on the map of Middle Earth. The only thing that looked a bit similar to Fluttershy’s homeland was a mountain range in the Southeast, shaped like a big cup, or a soup bowl. In Equestria they were called the badlands, but here on the map of Middle Earth was written: Mordor.

“Where are we, exactly?” Fluttershy asked.

“Here.” Radagast pointed at the center of the map, next to a giant spot of green. “At the Southwest borders of the Greenwood.”

Fluttershy followed the finger. “Why isn’t it marked on the map?”

Radagast let out a chuckle. “Because it’s too small to be drawn on a map spanning a whole world. And besides, I know where I am, right?”

Fluttershy smiled too, silently wondering how big the cities would have to be in order to be marked on the map. Her mind boggled at the thought of the size and inhabitants, and she bent over to study the map further.

“So, what do you think, Fluttershy?” Radagast said after a while. “Do you recognize anything yet?”

“Hmm…” Fluttershy furrowed her brow. “The only thing I recognize is that over there.” She pointed a hoof at the Southeastern mountain range. “Mor-dor,” she said, hoping to pronounce the name right.

Radagast withdrew his hands from the map as if the name of the mountain range had transformed the thing into a white-hot plate of metal. Fluttershy looked up at him but said nothing, as she saw that the wizard was holding his head in his hand while uttering a sigh. “Oh, dear.”

At last Fluttershy dared to speak. “What’s wrong, Radagast?”

Radagast peaked past his hand. “Are you absolutely certain that is the place where you came from?”

“Well… the name is different… but it looks like the badlands from Equestria.”

“I’ve never heard of the name Equestria before,” Radagast said, his voice suddenly losing strength. “But the land you’re pointing at is definitely bad.”

Fluttershy didn’t like the change of tone in the wizard’s voice. Didn’t like it at all. “Then what is there? What is happening in Mor-dor?”

“Please don’t say that name anymore,” Radagast said. “It is an evil name. An evil place. Nothing more than a dark, volcanic wasteland surrounded by a mountain range like dark spikes. Many evil creatures live there, whose only desire it is to bring malice upon others. Who cannot think of anything living without it burning or crumbling to the earth. Thieves, monsters, murderers; creatures that cannot stand the light of day. It is a place where the very air is laden with an evil rot, and which can corrupt even the bravest souls willing—or forced—to venture into that land. Nothing pretty has ever come from Mordor.”

But Fluttershy was pretty. Radagast started fantasizing about how she would look like if she really were from Mordor. Undoubtedly Fluttershy would be covered in scars and burns, and her wings would be black or a mottled grey, just as her hide. Her teeth would be sharp, yellowed fangs, and her eyes would look like the last light in a dying man’s eyes. No, there was no way this little, sensitive creature came from Mordor. The mere trembling of her hooves at the mention of the name confirmed as much.

“T-t-that doesn’t sound like Equestria at all,” Fluttershy said. Even her chair shook and rattled.

Radagast put a hand to his chin and stroked his beard, trying to shake off the thought of that cursed land and think rationally instead. “Indeed you aren’t. But you keep mentioning that name, ‘Equestria.’ It is a name I have never heard. And I don’t believe it is on the map as well. I wonder…”

But this time it was Fluttershy who finished Radagast’s thoughts. “Radagast,” she said, trying to control the tone of her voice. “I think I am not from Middle Earth. Actually, I know for sure that I am not from Middle Earth. I am from another world, not from another land.”

That answer would normally shock every other listener, but somehow Radagast wasn’t surprised. Sure, there were some slivers of surprise, but his open mind had smelled the possibility. Instead of jolting, jumping, stuttering, or even falling backwards on his chair, Radagast only said, “I see.”

“Yes…” Fluttershy looked at the wizard, and by the look of his eyes she saw that he believed her. “It is called Equestria. That’s where I’m from.”

Radagast didn’t stop stroking his beard, and took a sip of tea. “So… what does this Equestria look like? Who lives there? Are there more flying ponies like you?”

“Oh yes,” Fluttershy said, “lots of them. They make up a whole race, and they’re called, pegasi.”

“Pegasi…” The third new word Radagast had learned today.

“But we also have earth-ponies and unicorns. Earth ponies don’t fly, but they have much affinity with the earth and much practical knowledge. Unicorns can use magic, much like you, Radagast.”

“So you have ponies who can fly and ponies who can use magic?” Now Radagast sounded surprised. Of course he had never heard of animals able to use magic, although he knew some of them had the potential. The thought sprouted into a question, “But isn’t there chaos with so many magic users? Surely there must be a council or a king?”

“There are princesses,” Fluttershy said. “My friend Twilight Sparkle is a princess. She’s very good at magic. You should meet her.” But then Fluttershy realized that would probably not happen.

“I see. How intriguing.”

“It is.” Fluttershy closed her eyes and smiled as the wonderful memories of home drifted by like sweet, soft, cotton-candy clouds. “Equestria is a wonderful place.”

But Radagast still had questions, and tried to find Fluttershy’s eyes. “What is this magic like? Is it good? Is it used much? How powerful is this magic?”

Despite the stream of questions, the calmness didn’t leave Fluttershy’s eyes. “The magic of Equestria is very powerful; Twilight has told me a lot about it. She always likes talking to me about everything—probably because I’m a very good listener. She told me the entire history of Equestria, how it was forged by the magic of friendship, the most powerful magic in the land. It is the magic of friendship that connects the elements and the ponies in Equestria and keeps the harmony. It connects the unicorns especially, who can draw upon the magic to use it in spells. Most unicorns only use magic that corresponds with their special talent. That’s why unicorns usually only use a few spells from the millions and millions that were created. A baker might learn a spell to heat an oven or levitation so she doesn’t burn her hooves. Some unicorns choose to learn more spells, but usually they only learn the spells they will need in their lives.”

It looked as if Radagast didn’t blink, so captivated was he by the tale. He had let go of his beard and was now supporting his chin with both hands, like a little filly in a classroom. “Please go on. Don’t stop!”

Fluttershy giggled at the wizard’s funny pose, and then continued. “My friend Twilight Sparkle herself has learned many different spells. Magic is her special talent, and she is so good at learning things. She was sent to Ponyville to study the magic of friendship, and she is now so good at it. After she had finished an ancient spell partly created by a powerful wizard, princess Celestia had given her wings and helped her to ascend to become the princess of friendship. Now she, my friends, and I travel all across Equestria to solve friendship problems and strengthen the magic of friendship. Or well, that’s what we used to do before I ended up in Middle Earth.”

Fluttershy paused, but Radagast didn’t dare to interrupt. “The magic of friendship…” he said, so soft as if he was scared to mute the pony with his words. “And you help to reinforce that magic; to keep the balance…”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’m not much of a magician, but, now that I think about it, our jobs do look pretty similar, Don’t they?”

To that, Radagast agreed. He couldn’t help but notice the similarities in their lives, even though they lived worlds apart. “And those friends of yours,” he said, “what are they like? Are they like you?”

“Not at all,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head. “There’s Twilight Sparkle, about whom I’ve already told you. Then there’s Starlight Glimmer, a unicorn. She is Twilight’s apprentice, and Twilight teaches her how to use the magic of friendship. She’s also a great wizard, but she has a… let’s say, troubled past.”

Radagast made a mental note to ask her about that later, but didn’t interrupt Fluttershy now.

“Rarity is also a unicorn, but her magic specializes in making things pretty. She’s a fashion designer and very creative.” Fluttershy looked around. “I’m sure she would know a hundred ways to decorate your cottage. She had helped me with mine as well. She’s perhaps my best friend and we often do fun things together—calm things.”

“Yes,” Radagast said, eagerly waiting for Fluttershy to continue.

“Quite the opposite of Rarity is Applejack. She’s an earth-pony and knows a lot about farming. She has often helped me with my vegetable gardens. She can be a bit wild, but she is very honest, and knows how to get things done. Applejack’s best friend and rival is Rainbow Dash. Those two often butt heads when they have different opinions. Oh, they can be so competitive and brash. But Rainbow Dash is as loyal as a pegasus can be, and a great flyer.”

Radagast couldn’t contain himself. “Are you a good flyer too?”

“Well…” Fluttershy said, looking at the ground and rubbing one leg against the other. “Not as good as Rainbow Dash, but I can fly. Sometimes I fly when I help to revalidate birds, but I rather stay on the ground, where it’s safe and calm.”

“I understand,” Radagast said. He wasn’t disappointed, although he would love to see Fluttershy fly. “So who’s next?”

Fluttershy raised her head. “That would be Pinkie Pie. She’s a bit… odd. But very friendly, don’t get me wrong. She always makes things more cheerful and loves to make other ponies smile. She’s even wrote a song about it.”

“You don’t say?” Radagast’s mind boggled at the possibility. Flying horses, magic-wielding horses, and now singing horses?

“Yes. I can sing it for you if you want.”

“That would be lovely,” Radagast said. “But please don’t let me interrupt you.”

“No, you’re not interrupting me, Radagast. That’s all the friends I—oh no, wait! Of course there’s Spike. How could I forget him?”

“Spike…” Radagast repeated the name and noticed how it sounded totally different from all of the exotic pony-names he’d heard. Not any less exotic, but different on the tongue.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said. “He’s a baby dragon, and Twilight’s—“

“WHAT?! A DRAGON?!”

Fluttershy jolted at the sudden outcry. Had she said anything wrong?

Seeing the yellow pegasus’s familiar fright through her eyes, Radagast quickly composed himself. “Oh, excuse me there, Fluttershy, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Fluttershy took a few deep breaths, and then spoke again. “It’s… it’s ok. I guess dragons must be new for you as well.”

Repositioning himself on his chair until he sat straight again, Radagast said, “They’re not, actually, although it has been awhile since I’ve either seen them or talked about them.”

To that, Fluttershy suddenly shriveled. Although she wasn’t scared of Spike at all, her phobia of dragons still kept her company wherever she went. Every time the Cutie Map called upon her element, she always hoped in silence that the errant wouldn’t involve dragons. So far they hadn’t.

“A-a-are there d-d-dragons in Middle Earth?”

Radagast wanted to comfort Fluttershy by saying that no dragons inhabited the world of Middle Earth. He couldn’t. Briefly he wondered whether to tell a little white lie, but decided against it.

“There used to be many dragons, Fluttershy. During ages long past, dragons were as common as birds. Great, flying creatures they were, with breaths as hot as lava and eyes slit and mean like spearheads. The dragons of Middle Earth were greedy beyond redemption, and angry as an erupting volcano. The skies were filled with ash, and soot rained down on the earth. But there were creatures brave enough to stand against them. Dwarves, who treasured their valuable creations of silver and gold like they were their children, often battled the thieving dragons. The dragons were usually triumphant, however brave the dwarves were. But bravery is a power harder to channel than greed.”

“T-that sounds terrible,” Fluttershy said, her voice a trembling collection of sounds.

“Yes,” Radagast said. “But you don’t have to be afraid, Fluttershy. Most of the dragons are gone now, and not many people either speak about them or remember them. Personally I’ve heard of only one dragon in Middle Earth by the name of Smaug, who destroyed the city of Dale and conquered the Lonely Mountain. That is over here.” Radagast pointed at a peak Northeast of the Greenwood.

Fluttershy followed the finger with wavering eyes, as if the wizard was pointing to something horrifying to the eye.

“But Gandalf told me that a long time ago,” Radagast continued. “I don’t even know if he is still there, or if the only thing guarding the treasure inside the mountain is a collection of dragon bones. Besides Smaug I cannot think of other dragons. Either they’re hidden or they’re extinct.” Radagast looked Fluttershy in the eyes, smiling what he hoped was a comforting smile. “But I think the latter holds more truth than the former.”

Fluttershy looked back and stopped shaking. She did feel calmness well up from her belly, and wondered if it was magic or just the wizard’s eyes.

Then Radagast threw his attention to the teapot. “More tea?”

“Yes please.”

Radagast refilled their cups and sighed in delight. Putting his cup down, he decided to resume the conversation. “So this last friend of yours, Spike the dragon, what is he like?”

“He’s Twilight’s assistant,” Fluttershy said. “He’s her assistant and friend. I think he’s adorable, and he tells me all about what it’s like to be a dragon. But, the thing you said about greed and anger applies to Spike too.” Fluttershy closed her eyes as the memory shot past; she felt herself shivering again. “One time, he got enormously big because he became fueled by greed. It was absolutely terrifying. I thought for a moment that he was going to destroy all of Ponyville.”

“How terrible,” Radagast said, having heard many tales about dragon greed and hopeless battles against them.

“Indeed.” Fluttershy recomposed herself, as the nice part of the story arrived. “But in the end, he turned back to his cute little self and apologized to everyone. It’s just… It’s just that I wonder what will happen when he grows up sooner or later, and whether he will be greedy and terrifying then.”

“Well,” Radagast said, not knowing what to say, but realizing that he should say something. “I think he will learn to control his greed as he grows up. That’s what other animals do too, right? They learn as they grow up to control and master their abilities.”

Fluttershy sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t worry about that too much.”

“No wizard has yet found a way to speed up time, Fluttershy. And few can look into the future.”

Fluttershy basked in the wisdom the wizard posed, but at the same time she felt something uneasy. The thought and talk about her friends made her stomach feel soft and strange. She rubbed her barrel with a hoof, but then realized it was no physical feeling; it was homesickness. No matter how comfortable Radagast’s home was; no matter how nice, if odd, Radagast’s company was, she still missed her friends. She missed the cheerful smiles from Pinkie Pie, the endless wisdom from Twilight and Starlight, the good advice from Applejack or the never-ending bragging of Rainbow Dash. She missed the clumsy stumbling of Spike and the spa visits with Rarity. She missed it all, and it hit her in that moment like a falling tree.

Radagast saw it. He could read her big blue eyes like a map. He found them the easiest eyes he had ever read, and he had read countless animals’ eyes and deciphered countless emotions. “It’s ok, Fluttershy. Even I get homesick when I’m gone for a few days from Rhosgobel. It’s strange, because I said that all of the Greenwood is my home, but I must admit that there is nothing like the warmth of a hearth and the warmth of friendship all around you—even if they’re animals.” Then Radagast rasped his throat, hoping he hadn’t insulted the pony with his last words. “Or maybe, especially if they’re animals.”

The corners of Fluttershy’s mouth curled slightly upwards. “None taken, Radagast.” She too, was getting better at reading the wizard’s mood.

Radagast picked up his teacup and finished it. “You don’t have to worry, Fluttershy, you will see your friends again soon enough; I’ll make sure you will.” There was only determination in the wizard’s voice. “I’ll help you get home again. With all the powers that are mine, I swear on the forest itself that I will get you home again.” He slammed his teacup back on the saucer, nearly breaking it. “I’ll get it done or my name isn’t Radagast the Brown.”

Fluttershy couldn’t help but smile at Radagast’s funny behavior. She couldn’t help feeling relieved and lucky that he’d found her in the forest, scared and alone on the ground. She couldn’t help but feel hope, shining through the darkness.

“But of course it would help if you could tell me how you ended up here in the Greenwood,” Radagast said, throwing a second glance at the teacup to see if it was broken. “Then I might have a clue on how to send you back to your own world.”

“Of course,” Fluttershy said, and immediately plunged into thoughts and memories, trying to find something useful. She closed her eyes in concentration, but the only things she could remember were the deafness, the blindness, the fear and desperation. With the memories came a residue of those moments, black like a terrible, threatening thundercloud, ready to unleash violence upon the world. But that was it. That was everything Fluttershy could remember. She told Radagast, and he frowned in thought.

“I see. Well, deafness is sometimes caused by a sudden loud sound,” he said, digging up knowledge about ailments and diseases which was always fresh in his mind. “And blindness occurs when someone watches a bright light for too long, like staring into the sun, which is always a bad idea to do. Are you sure you don’t remember anything before that, Fluttershy?”

“I-I-I’m afraid not,” Fluttershy said, feeling her hope drain out of her like water from a leaking bucket.

With another “I see,” Radagast began stroking his beard. He stood up and paced around the small living room in circles. That was the way he liked to think; while on the move. He thought back to the moment he’d first encountered the little mare in the Greenwood. But his only thoughts were swept away by the bulky memory of wind, rain, and… lightning.

Then it dawned to him. the idea struck him like a lightning bolt on a clear blue day. The disruption in the energy that had made him travel through the Greenwood in order to find the source. And then the lightning bolt. That strange, pink, column of light which had made Radagast fall from his sled. Those two had to be connected somehow.

“The lightning,” Radagast said, eyes beaming with excitement and energy. “The lightning, Fluttershy. Do you remember anything about lightning?”

“The lightning?” Fluttershy repeated. But the moment the word left her lips, they streamed back through her ears and prodded at her brain, and Fluttershy instantly recalled exactly what Radagast meant. “The lightning!” she said again, louder now. Not a question but a confirmation. She knew what happened, knew exactly what happened. Staring at the wizard but not seeing him, Fluttershy saw the events unfolding once more in front of her eyes.

* *

“Alright, everypony, behold!”

With a flash of purple magic, the twin crystal doors flew open, revealing the study room of Twilight Sparkle.

“Whoa!” everypony said simultaneously, as they gazed at Twilight’s new invention. It was the thing she had been so secretive about. Her great new project developed together with Starlight Glimmer under the watchful eyes of princess Celestia and princess Luna. Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Applejack were quite taken aback by the enormous structure. Only Rainbow Dash, Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle looked different, as they were all brimming with excitement, instead of amazement—although their faces looked much the same as everypony else’s.

“Eh… Twilight,” Applejack said, after the echo had faded.

“Yes?”

“What is it?”

Right in the middle of the study stood a giant brass arch, made of shiny and polished metal. To Applejack, it looked like an enormous horseshoe, and although she was proficient at building things herself, she couldn’t begin to guess at the thing’s purpose. Tubes and cables ran around it, from it, and through it, making the floor of the study look like a freshly plowed field. Applejack’s closest guess would be that it was some sort of irrigation device.

Twilight flashed a curious smile; a smile mixed with pride. “You’ll see,” she said.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Applejack swore she saw Rainbow Dash smile as well.

Rarity frowned. “Next time you’re going to make a sculpture, you should at least call for my assistance. That shiny brass color simply fights with those bright yellow cables. I mean, you could at least put some streamers on it. Maybe a little curtain wouldn’t hurt as well.”

Twilight chuckled. “I’m afraid it’s more intended for practical use than for decoration, Rarity, but I appreciate your help.”

“So… is it a climbing frame?” Pinkie Pie guessed.

Twilight shook her head.

“A horseshoe for an ursa major? A present for Starlight? A giant baking mold? A stage? A very abstract statue of a cupcake? A doorway without a door?” Pinkie was not giving up so easily.

But at that last guess, Twilight’s eyes fluttered. “Almost right, Pinkie.”

“Really?! I knew it!” Pinkie said, jumping up and down at her victory. Suddenly she stopped. “Wait… which guess do you mean?”

While Twilight made a desperate attempt to salvage her secret after running her mouth off, Fluttershy, standing behind everypony, took a moment to give the structure a look. She couldn’t help but feel intimidated by its sheer size. In her fantasy, it was a nice front porch to her garden, although it was covered in bolts instead of flowers, and overgrown with cables instead of vines.

Outside, a lightning bolt crackled, and rain started pouring down the heavens. Fluttershy jumped at the crack, and she could feel the windows rumble with the sound.

It didn’t stop Twilight from being overly enthusiastic, however. She stood opposite of a jumping Pinkie Pie, and decided that it was time to begin her experiment. Pinkie made one last guess, and to that, Twilight said, “I won’t tell you all what this machine is and what it does— I’ll show you.”

With that, she trotted off towards the gigantic structure together with Starlight Glimmer, and under the arc, until she stood at a couple of large metal boxes covered in screens, buttons, and levers. She pressed a button, and a few lights flashed on and off.

“Rainbow Dash? Shall we?” Twilight said.

Receiving everypony’s questioning stares, Rainbow Dash approached the arc. She wasn’t flying, but instead walked very carefully and slowly towards the machine, until she was beneath the exact center of it, standing on an elevated plateau. Fluttershy thought it strange that Dash was walking. The rainbow pegasus bore a mysterious smile from ear to ear, and watched her friends as if she was teasing them. Obviously she enjoyed the mystery that lingered in the air; the cloak of enigma she wore.

But she wore something else too, Fluttershy suddenly noticed. A pair of sturdy looking saddlebags were strapped around her barrel, emblazoned with a rainbow-and-cloud; Dash’s cutie mark. Fluttershy hadn’t really paid attention to it before, but now she realized that Rainbow Dash looked as if she was going on a long journey, and her teasing smile could be a funny goodbye to them all.

Twilight Sparkle pushed a green button; the machine came to life.

A hum began echoing through the study, and everypony knew it came from the machine. It became louder and louder, until it sounded like a million buzzing bees. There was also a sizzling, like a snake finding its prey. Suddenly, tiny white sparkles erupted from all sides of the machine. They flashed from one side to the other, passing each other by at the top of the arc. The ponies quickly shielded their eyes with their hooves, as the light the mini-lightning bolts produced was far too bright to look at. A few lamps flashed on and off, almost like an emergency beacon.

All the time Rainbow Dash stood in the middle, not moving as much as a feather. Her smile broadened as she watched her friend’s frightened faces. She particularly enjoyed Fluttershy’s reaction, as she had taken shelter behind Rarity, and was almost invisible.

To Fluttershy, the spectacle was overwhelming. The sounds, the lights, the movement; she felt goosebumps over her whole body as she cowered behind Rarity. The air felt like it was laden with some kind of force or electricity, and it shimmered before her eyes. She felt her mane and tail curl in unnatural shapes, and closed her eyes in terror. In a feeble attempt to distract herself from the strange things happening behind her, Fluttershy forced herself to open her eyes and look across the hallway outside the window; looking at the weather always calmed her down. But not now, as the weather outside was as chaotic as the machine inside. It looked as if the weather and the machine spoke together, conversing with each other by flashing lightning bolts and with a voice of roaring thunderclaps. Fluttershy saw many bolts of lightning streak the ground of Equestria like a forest of flashes.

The hum had grown into a deafening roar. The machine shook and rattled, and the skittering gouts of energy raced up and down until it looked as if Rainbow Dash was in a painting framed by neon light—white, crackling neon light.

Rarity gave out an “Ah!” as she gazed at the spectacle before her eyes. Even though the design was absolutely horrific, she admitted that the light spectacle easily made up for it.

Fluttershy, hearing the cry above the droning machine, cocked her ears and turned her head, checking whether Rarity was alright.

Of course Rarity was alright, she was simply amazed.

Fluttershy couldn’t help but look at the lightshow that started in front of her eyes. The white light had sprouted several other hues of color. Red, green, yellow, orange, blue; all the colors of the rainbow. Rainbow Dash looked as if she’d lost her mane and tail, and was only a vague blue speck against a rainbow background. Then the colors faded to white only, and then again to the rainbow. White, rainbow, white, rainbow. Until it flashed so fast she couldn’t possibly keep up with her eyes. The spectacle seemed to become too much even for Rainbow Dash, as she closed her eyes but kept her smile.

A loud boom resounded as the lightning bolt struck home. The lightning bolt. The entire Castle of Friendship shook. The machine wobbled on its pedestal, together with Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy, distracted by the changing colors, jumped ten feet in the air. She felt the natural urge to run away from the danger take hold of her like the paws of a strong grizzly bear, and she bolted ahead.

Rainbow Dash didn’t saw her nearing through the blinding, crackling light.

Fluttershy was running straight at the machine, her eyes closed against the brightness.

With a heart-breaking outcry, Fluttershy ran straight into the light spectacle. Then she felt a pain hammer against her head.

The force of the collision made Rainbow Dash fly through the curtain of light, landing right next to Twilight on the other side.

Twilight looked down at Rainbow Dash. “What are you doing?!” she yelled, but her words were ripped away by the violent rattle of the machine.

It had begun to rattle and shake. A few cables broke loose. A pipe shattered and was launched across the room like a piece of firework. A few bolts shot loose with loud pops.

“Something’s wrong!” Rainbow yelled, and despite the sounds being robbed from her lips, Twilight understood what she meant—she saw it herself.

Despite the machine falling apart, the colors continued to swirl. They were no longer every color; they were just one: pink.

Twilight’s hoof hovered over the emergency shutdown button… and stopped.

“Stop this thing!”

Twilight did nothing.

Before she’d flung her hoof to reach for the emergency button, she’d read the displays and status. ‘Teleportation progress: eighty percent.’

She noticed something was going wrong, but she didn’t know what would happen to Fluttershy if she’d abort the teleportation process. Her hoof remained where it was.

The arc began tilting dangerously far to the front.

But before it could fall down, it exploded.

The lightshow transformed into a swirling ball of pink, and then blasted its energy all across the room. The sound of shredding metal and bolts launched like bullets made everypony wish they hadn’t got any ears. A smell of a violent fire filled the air, and black, ugly clouds erupted from the machine. A few ripped cables coiled around the room like electrified whips. All of the light-emitting crystals shattered. For a moment it looked as if the whole study would be blasted apart, becoming nothing more than a gaping hole in Twilight’s castle.

One last burst of hot energy erupted from the overloaded teleportation machine. Then, silence and darkness crept over the spectacle.

The show had ended.

Chapter five: the council of ponies

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Twilight Sparkle hadn’t left her library for a whole day.

A whole day long, the alicorn princess had been alone with herself, her thoughts, and her books. She needed the time to think, to figure out just exactly what had happened with the machine, with Fluttershy—and with herself.

A whole day long, she had felt the burden of guilt weigh down on her shoulders, strapping her wings to her barrel and keeping her from flying. She had shed tears, definitely. In the beginning, she’d spent a good long hour weeping over what she’d done; teleporting one of her friends into another world. A world with which Fluttershy was barely familiar. A strange and scary world—which would only get scarier the longer she would wait.

And that had helped the flood of tears stop. Twilight had realized that the clock was ticking. The longer she would wait, the sooner the Greenwood would change into the Mirkwood, as predicted by the story The Lord of the Rings.

So Twilight had stopped crying, and had gathered as many schematics, books, drawings, tables, and notes about the machine as she could, making sure that The Lord of the Rings, was always within reach.

The somber and dreary day had been the only thing accompanying her in her studies. And when evening began to fall, the moon took over, being slightly more helpful and casting a ray of moonlight into the library.

Twilight’s friends had been in the castle the whole time, deciding not to leave in order to support Twilight when necessary. Pinkie Pie had been the first pony to lose patience when the only sound coming from the library were the sounds of pages turning and hooves trotting from one bookcase to another. Twilight had been very careful to keep her sobs as quiet as possible, but they knew that she’d cried; somehow, her friends knew.

“Twilight? Are you alright?” Pinkie had once yelled in her ever-cheerful voice, but she got no answer.

Even Starlight Glimmer hadn’t been allowed inside, even though she knew that she could be of use. Then she’d reckoned that Twilight didn’t only need the information about the accident, she also wanted her moment of alone time.

The only one who’d managed to take a peek at Twilight had been Spike, who had brought some dinner at the door. The door had opened to a slit, precisely enough to allow a hoof and a head through, and then closed again before Spike could blink his eyes. He had seen how Twilight looked, and it wasn’t good. Bloodshot violet eyes, full of a maddening guilt and drive, had glanced down at the plate. A trembling hoof had grabbed it and slid it inside, and then a hoarse voice, broken by many sobs, had uttered a quick “Thank you,” before the door had slammed shut.

That was a day ago, and the rest of the ponies and Spike were still in the castle.

They’d brought sleeping mats, candles, pillows, and had made themselves comfortable in the throne hall. Despite the funny look of everypony in their sleeping gowns and the ground littered with stuffed animals (especially Pinkie seemed to have a lot of those), the ambiance was tense and grave, nothing at all like a slumber party, despite the way it all looked.

“Do you think she will get enough sleep?” Rarity said, her voice wavering with worry.

“I reckon’ she won’t sleep until she’ll figure all of this out,” Applejack answered.

Starlight Glimmer walked closer to the two of them. “I hope she’ll ask for some help. I’m sure she feels guilty about the accident, but actually, I think… I think that I’m partly to—”

But Applejack’s hoof on Starlight’s shoulder stopped her talking. “Nopony’s to blame here, Starlight. It was an accident. Period.”

Starlight tried to smile; she managed it only partly. “Thank you, Applejack. I’m just afraid to be judged. It was Twilight’s and my idea, after all.”

“Oh! Then the princesses have to be punished too,” Pinkie Pie said, skipping towards them on a bouncing ball she brought along. “They were supervising the project as well, right?”

However ridiculous it sounded, the ponies realized that she was right. But they also realized something else: they hadn’t even told the princesses about the accident yet.

“Should… should we tell the princesses about it all?” Applejack said.

“Of course,” Starlight Glimmer said, but her voice bore no positivity. In her head, she imagined how she would write such a letter. She didn’t even know where to begin. “Spike!”

The little dragon walked over to the rest. “Yeah?”

“We have to write a letter to princess Celestia and princess Luna. I… I have honestly no idea what to put in it. But you have experience writing letters, right?”

“I’ll get some ink and paper,” Spike said, and darted out of the throne hall.

A minute later, Spike returned, carrying many rolls of paper, as he’d reckoned that it would take many tries to get the words just right. Even he had no idea how to even start such a letter. He flopped the stationary down on the table.

Starlight sat down, and supported her head with her hooves. “Oh my! How should I start? What should I tell?”

“The truth, sugar cube,” Applejack said, standing next to Starlight.

“I have to agree with Applejack on that one, Starlight,” Rarity said. “But bring it in with grace and tact.”

“And make it FUN!” Pinkie Pie shouted from the other end of the room, but at the strange glances she got from the rest, she said, “Or maybe not.”

Spike put a claw on Starlight’s hoof. “We’ll all help you, Starlight. Just take your time.”

“Thank you, Spike,” Starlight said. Then she furrowed her brow in concentration and put the quill down for the first word of the most difficult letter she would ever write.

* *

Starlight certainly took her time, and her paper. As the sun started to rise outside, casting a helpful orange light into the throne hall and making the crystals shimmer and shine, Starlight still wasn’t done. A pile of discarded first drafts lay behind Starlight’s throne. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she grabbed yet another blank piece of paper to try her hoof at it once more.

Starlight thought about it; thought about the princesses’ reactions. Would they be angry? Upset? Disappointed? Shocked? Fueled by fear, she forced herself to continue writing, even though it seemed like no words were appropriate enough; every sentence too painful to read aloud; every paragraph a dagger to the heart. Suddenly, the feeling of desperation became too much, and she briefly saw the world around her waver through a watery curtain, but then realized that crying would mean that the ink would stain.

It still felt like another failure; another foul deed; another crime committed by the already infamous Starlight Glimmer. She lifted a double weight on her shoulders now: her actions and deeds from the past and the lives she’d controlled in her obsessive delusions, and the building of a machine that had banished one of her friends—one of her new friends—into a fictional realm.

But every time she wanted to give up, every time she wanted to fling the quill across the room and rip the paper into a thousand pieces, her friends were with her. From everypony she received good advice, sometimes even too much good advice. It took her a while to incorporate all of the tips she got into the letter, good as they all were. But in the end, she managed to fill the tiny sheet of paper with the words that conveyed the terrible message, and she raised it in the air like a flag of a triumphing army.

With a sigh of relief, she said, “Done! I can’t believe it.”

“Great job, sugar cube,” Applejack said, patting her on the back. “The only thing we need to do now is send it, but that’s the easy part.” Applejack breathed in deeply. “SPIKE!”

The mountain of discarded paper stirred, and out rolled the small purple dragon. “Huh? Why so loud?” he said with a sleep-drunk voice.

Applejack chuckled at the sight. “We got it, Spike. Let’s send it.”

Spike rubbed his eyes. “Yes, of course.”

His head still cloudy with the remnants of a very pleasant dream, Spike walked over to the ponies. When he reached the table, he picked up the sheet of paper and let his green, slit eyes run over the words. He said nothing when he’d finished. Then he rolled up the parchment, tied a red ribbon around it, and stamped it with Twilight’s seal: a six-pointed star. Princess Celestia would recognize the letter the moment she’d receive it.

Spike held the roll between two claws, as if it were a very thin glass sculpture, or a precious gem. He breathed in deeply, ready to burn the roll so it would reappear before princess Celestia’s eyes. The burning feeling of dragon-fire warmed his stomach. One, two, thr—

The doors of the hall burst open. Spike jolted, nearly choking on his own fire. He dropped the roll and swallowed, making the green fire flare through his nostrils.

“I got it, everypony!” Twilight shouted. “I know how to get Fluttershy back!”

Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway, a maddened glance in her eyes. Her mane looked split and ruffled, and her tail swept from side to side. She looked at the ponies one by one, looking at their startled faces. Finally, her gaze settled on Spike, still holding the letter with a single claw; there it stayed.

“What… what are you doing, Spike?”

Spike rubbed his belly with his free claw and looked at Twilight. With a shock he realized that he barely recognized her, wild as she looked. “Sending a message to princess Celestia.”

To that, Twilight’s eyes flared with a sudden glow. She jumped towards the dragon, and ripped the roll out of his claw. When she landed, Twilight held the piece of paper tightly in her mouth, as if it were her most awkward diary entry.

The other ponies followed her flight with an unsure expression. Only Pinkie Pie laughed, impressed as she was by Twilight’s crazy jump.

Twilight Sparkle spit the roll on the table and ripped the seal apart. Her eyes scanned the sentences.

“What’s wrong, Twilight?” Starlight said, as she came up from behind. “Is the letter bad?”

As an answer, Twilight’s horn began to glow, together with the letter, before the paper burst into a bright purple flame. A second later, ash littered the table.

With a sigh, Twilight stumbled backward. Starlight Glimmer quickly caught her in her hooves. “Was it that bad?” she said.

But Twilight didn’t answer. The lack of sleep had obviously taken a toll on her. Starlight felt her mentor going limp of exhaustion. But before she did, Twilight nodded with her head towards her throne; Starlight got the message. Together with Rainbow Dash, they carried Twilight Sparkle towards her throne, where they put her down as carefully as they could. With some effort, Twilight sat upright, and motioned for everypony to take their seats. She had many things to explain.

Through the window, the scarlet light had changed to a lighter yellow hue. The sun made its way towards its apex, and a few roosters cried to welcome the morning light. The light came rolling over the many fields and over the roofs of the Ponyville houses, where many ponies awakened to start their days. No doubt they had their worries too, but they would probably not have a crisis as big as Twilight Sparkle’s.

The sunlight skidded over the fields and into the throne room full of ponies. Twilight’s face was illuminated in the glow, and it accentuated the bags encircling her eyes like a picture frame. Twilight blinked, and welcomed the sunlight on her face. She felt a little bit of energy radiate through her body, sprouted from the cheerful morning sun. Then she closed her eyes once more, and breathed in a deep breath while waving her hoof, as if she tried to chase away her worries and prepare her for the speech she was about to give. It was the familiar technique her sister-in-law princess Cadence had taught her, and a smile curled on Twilight’s lips at the memory. In that moment, even though it lasted only a few seconds, her worries were far away.

She opened her eyes, and looked at her friends.

“I have found a way to return Fluttershy to Equestria,” Twilight said, her voice growing stronger at every word. “We can get her back the same way we teleported her in, using the teleportation machine. If Fluttershy is standing at the right place at the right time, we can safely transport her back from Middle Earth.”

As much as the ponies felt relieved at the good news, this message also raised a lot of eyebrows.

“Eh… Twilight,” Applejack said. “I don’t wanna… well… ruin your enthusiasm, but the machine is blown to smithereens.”

Twilight nodded. “Indeed, Applejack. That’s why we have to rebuild it, starting all the way from scratch. We’ll rebuild the machine and”—Twilight looked at the ground—“and keep the factor ‘weather’ in the equation this time.”

Rainbow Dash flew up and hovered in mid-air. “I’ll make sure of that, Twilight.”

Twilight looked at her friend and smiled. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash.”

The plan was clear, but still everypony had questions. Before anyone could pose them, however, Twilight continued her tale.

“We’ll have to build the machine step-by-step,” she said, her face hardening into a matter-of-fact posture. “In order to make the machine work, it needs critical components. First up is the frame. It was made of brass, and with the help of princess Celestia, I was able to import it from the Dragon Lands. Dragons, as you may or may not know, are truly skilled crafters and smiths, and only they had a forge big enough—and ore plenty enough—to create such a giant arch and all the nuts and bolts that went with it.”

Twilight paused, letting the words sink in.

“Secondly, we need crystals. Maybe you all saw the glowing crystals on top of the machine; they weren’t there just for show. The crystals contained powerful magic which helped to power the machine, as it is powered by both magical energy as well as physical energy, in the form of electricity. We need those crystals; as strong as we can get them, and they must also be able to store a massive amount of powerful magic. Two crystals are required. One which will contain magical energy, and another which will contain the electricity.”

At the word ‘crystals,’ Rarity veered up on her throne, but she didn’t interrupt Twilight.

“Our third component,” Twilight said, “is actually two: programming software and computers. I got them from Doctor Whooves to use in the machine, and”—Twilight looked as if she’d done something bad—and I hope he won’t be angry because I destroyed them, Twilight thought, but decided to keep that to herself. Instead she said, “And I’m sure he’ll have some spares, or that he’ll be able to make some new ones. The computers are used to direct the flow of the energy sources, set the destination, and trigger and lead the teleportation process. Without the computers, the teleportation machine is just a pretty statue.”

“Or a climbing frame,” Pinkie added. “Or a front porch, or a neon street sign, or a traffic light, or a birdhouse, or a searchlight, or an art frame, or a torch, or a firework show, or a—“

Rainbow Dash swooped over and put a hoof to Pinkie’s mouth; Pinkie continued naming things even though she was silenced. “Anything else?” Rainbow Dash said.

“There is one more thing…” Twilight’s voice lost all strength, and she looked down at her front hooves, circling them around each other.

“Then what is it?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight looked as if the mention of the last component pained her. “The last thing we need is a fragment of powerful magic. I can conjure the electricity using a dynamo, but for the magical energy I need to borrow some magic from someone. I’ve used a portion of Starlight’s magic and my own, but I have also used magical energy from… eh… “

Twilight tensed, the name stung on her lips. Everypony leaned forward in their thrones, eager to hear the name.

Twilight’s eyes darted across the throne hall, as if she was looking for the name. Then they settled down, and Twilight spoke.

“I’ve also borrowed magic from Discord.”

A sigh came from everypony. Rainbow Dash landed back on her throne. “Well, that’s no big deal, right? He’s reformed. We’ll just ask him to borrow some of his magic again. He’ll do it. Hay, I’ll buck the magic out of him if I need to.”

Twilight sighed in relief, and quickly glanced over to everypony else. “Yes. Discord. I hope he’ll do it again.” For a moment, Twilight found herself at a loss for words, but luckily Applejack continued her conversation.

“Alright, y’all, I say we gotta come up with some kind of action-plan. Someway we can get them parts as quickly as possible. I say we split up in different groups, and hunt for the parts together.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, my dear Applejack,” Rarity said, eager to take up the first task. “I suggest that I should go and find the crystals, as my abilities will ensure an easy find. I can use my horn to find any gem or crystal, no matter where it is.” Rarity sat up straight, giving off an almost regal expression. “Tell me where to start, Twilight. I will not let you down, rest assured.”

A warm feeling sprang from Twilight’s belly. She knew it wasn’t the feeling of the morning sun, but the comforting feeling her friends gave her. They would follow her to the top of mount Everhoof itself, if she would go there. Luckily for Rarity, the crystals didn’t come from mount Everhoof.

“The Crystal Empire,” Twilight said. “That’s where I got the crystals from. I had sent a message to Cadence and Shining armor, and they urged their miners to dig twice as deep. It didn’t take them long until they reached bedrock, where the sturdiest and most stable crystals were embedded. They don’t have to be that big, as the crystals on the machine weren’t big at all either. But they have to be able to contain much energy. They have to be close to unbreakable.”

“Certainly,” Rarity said with a nod of her head. Although the prospect of spending a long time in a cramped train coupon and plunging into a dirty old mine filled her with reluctance, Rarity also looked forward to visiting the city itself—especially the beautiful palace of princess Cadence and prince Shining Armor.

“So what do you want me to do, Twi?” Rainbow Dash said, flying into the air once more, brimming with excitement and ready for action. “Would you like me to go to Discord and get him to give you some magic? I’ll do that any day.”

But Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Rainbow Dash,” she wisely decided. Having looked at the murderous look in Rainbow Dash’s eyes, Twilight knew enough.

Rainbow fluttered down with slumped shoulders. “Oh, bummer.”

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said. “I have an assignment that I think you’ll like. I want you to go to the Dragon Lands and get them to make the metal parts of the machine.”

Instantly, Rainbow Dash’s face glared with joy. Dragons? A treacherous volcanic land? That meant action, a language Rainbow Dash spoke fluently. She already began thinking about every challenge they would face just getting there.

“…Together with Spike,” Twilight finished.

Dash’s excitement diminished significantly, like a balloon accidentally let go and losing half of its air. “What?” she said with a frown. “Why Spike?”

Spike threw Dash an accusing glance, but Rainbow Dash didn’t notice it.

“Because we’re dealing with dragons,” Twilight answered. “You know that dragons don’t really like us ponies right? Even after princess Ember became the new Dragon Lord, I’m sure dragons still look down on other races, especially ponies, since we’re so… well, non-dragon-looking. With Spike, you’ll have some extra protection.”

Dash almost choked. “Extra protection?! How?!”

“Spike will be in favor with princess Ember, so I think the dragons under her command will make way for him—for both of you. It will be a lot easier to talk to them.”

The arguments made sense, but still Rainbow Dash would rather have gone alone. Spike was far from an action hero, after all. With a sigh, Rainbow sat down, her hooves crossed. “Fine.”

Spike, meanwhile, felt uncertain. He remembered how he got the bloodstone scepter from the Gauntlet of Fire, the mightiest volcano in the Dragon Lands. He remembered how he gave it to princess Ember to make sure the Dragon Lands got a fair and good ruler, willing to diminish the stigma on ponies and improve their relationship with the other species. But Spike also wondered just how far Ember had come with that, as he knew how stubborn and rough dragons could be. With a shudder, the image of Garble the red dragon flew through his mind, teasing him and spitting fire in a haze of rage and violence. He and Spike weren’t good friends.

But with Rainbow Dash, he might feel a bit safer—if Dash would be able to keep a hold on herself.

“Eh… Twilight?”

“Yes, Spike?”

“Are you sure it’s safe to go to the dragon lands? I mean, I know I’m a dragon and all, but I just don’t really feel sure about it.”

Twilight reached for the dragon and patted him on the head. “Don’t worry Spike. In the last letter I sent to princess Ember, she told me many great developments that have taken place in the Dragon Lands. From what I’ve read, the dragons have become a bit friendlier, so I’m certain you and Rainbow Dash will be safe there.”

But Spike wasn’t at all reassured. Even though he trusted his closest friend, he would still feel more at ease with a bigger bodyguard, or if he himself would be bigger. He opened his mouth to ask another hesitant question, one concerning the date of that particular letter, but somepony demanded Twilight’s attention first.

“Oh! Me! Pick me! Me, me, me!” Pinkie Pie said, raising her hoof in the air as if she were a little filly in class, eager to take a turn.

Twilight couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, Pinkie Pie. I want you to go to Discord and ask him for a portion of his magical power.”

To that, Pinkie Pie jumped and skipped on her seat. “Yippee! I love to play with Discord. You wouldn’t believe how good he is at riddles. Last time—believe it or not—it took me three hours to solve his riddle, and do you know what the answer was?”

But Pinkie Pie wasn’t going to wait for anypony to shake her head. “It was a rock!” Pinkie let out a cackle that shook the giant window. “Can you believe it? A rock! I mean, I’ve worked on a rock farm all my life and I couldn’t guess what the answer was. I should have known. A rock! How silly is that?”

While Pinkie Pie rattled on and on about the many games she and Discord often played, Twilight Sparkle bent over and gestured to Applejack. The farm pony raised an eyebrow, and walked over to Twilight.

“Please go together with Pinkie,” Twilight whispered in her ear. “Although I’m sure she can handle any sticky situation, I would prefer you to keep an eye out for her. You know how Pinkie Pie is; she might get a bit… distracted.”

Applejack looked over at Pinkie Pie, who was now jumping around, demonstrating the leapfrog variants she’d invented with Discord, then she looked back at Twilight. Shaking her head with a smile, Applejack said simply, “Eeyup.”

Now everypony had gotten a task from Twilight Sparkle—everypony, except one. Starlight Glimmer looked over to her mentor, who had once again skipped her. “So what are we going to do Twilight? I guess whatever we’re going to do, we’ll do it together. Are we going to get the computers up and running?”

“Precisely,” Twilight said. “You and I are going to Doctor Whooves and program the computers together. It will be fun!”

For the first time in many hours, Twilight dared to speak out that word again, and she really meant it.

It sounded simple enough, programming computers, but Starlight and Twilight both knew that it would take them many hours, maybe even many days, of calculating and digging through numbers to get everything online. This task was at least as heavy as the one given to everypony else, although they probably wouldn’t think about it that way.

Rarity was looking forward to go to the brilliant Crystal Empire, already thinking about the outfits she would be wearing on the trip. A lady should always travel in style, after all. Rainbow Dash was eager to depart too; Spike not so much. Pinkie Pie smiled in delight at the happy memories floating around in her head. Applejack thought about the things they would say to Discord. Twilight and Starlight were mentally preparing themselves for the many hours behind computer screens.

Applejack returned to her shining crystal throne. Even though she was eager to get to work—just like the others—she had one more question to ask. “Hold on, Rainbow Dash!” she called, seeing the pegasus already flying towards the door. Dash stopped, but didn’t land.

“What is it, Applejack?” Twilight said.

“I think there’s one more thing we should know, Twi,” said Applejack. Her expression was dead-serious, and it awoke a sense of worry in everypony. “Starlight Glimmer told us something. Something about an evil forest where Fluttershy has landed in. Even though I reckon it’s a dark story, I still think we should be aware of what’s happening out there.”

Those words stung Twilight. She had hoped to avoid telling them exactly what was going to happen to Fluttershy, just to keep the mood light and the morale high. Things were going to happen that would be hard to understand for ponies of Equestria. An evil that was even worse than the worst villain they had ever encountered. It was all written in J.R.R. Tolkien’s books The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and some of the forest’s history Twilight had discovered later on. Suddenly, Twilight’s expression became sharper, and she looked up at her friends. “Didn’t you guys read the books I gave you?”

Only Starlight nodded, the rest looked all around the room.

“I… well… I didn’t have time,” Applejack said, fiddling with her tail. “I had chores to do. Sorry, Twi.”

Rarity blinked her eyes. “Please excuse me, dear Twilight, but you must understand that I couldn’t possibly read something like that. I love to read, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that I like to read things with more… flair. Oh, but I did enjoy the part with the hobbits, they must have quite a bourgeois fashion I presume.”

Twilight looked at Pinkie, who returned the gaze with a smile. “Yes, the Hobbits were funny. But I stopped reading at the black riders; they were real party poopers.”

Twilight had the urge to sigh, but instead skipped the empty throne with a blink and gazed at Rainbow Dash.

“I just read the end of The Return of the King,” Rainbow said. “But that’s what mattered, right? That’s where you wanted to send me, after all.”

Twilight couldn’t deny that, but still, a bit of preparation wouldn’t hurt, especially if the journey would have taken Rainbow Dash to another world.

Spike drew circles with his claw in the crystal of the throne. “It… well… it looked boring, and it didn’t have any pictures.”

Now Twilight couldn’t withhold herself, and slapped her hoof against her head.

But Starlight Glimmer gave Twilight a gentle prod. “You should tell them, Twilight. They have the right to know.”

Twilight Sparkle knew her student was right. With a deep breath and a blink of her eyes, she straightened her back and gave all of her friends one more look. She decided to start off a bit positive. “First of all, Fluttershy will probably be alright. The machine teleported her to Greenwood, as I already told you. It is a forest much like any normal, deciduous forest in Equestria, with trees, shrubs, flowers, and animals. Apart from wild boars or bears, there is nothing really dangerous there—for now.”

Her friends stirred at those last two words. Applejack shuffled on her seat, but continued to listen.

“The only non-animal inhabitants which live in the primal forest are elves under the reign of their king, living in the North, and a wizard named Radagast, living on the southernmost borders of the Greenwood. Now this second character, Radagast, isn’t mentioned much in the books, only in a few sentences, barely a couple of paragraphs in The Fellowship of the Ring. But his character actually tells something very important to his wizard friend Gandalf; something… bad.”

Twilight’s expression darkened. She did her best to find the right words, to find the words that would explain this best without piling too much worry on her friends’ minds, but couldn’t. There simply wasn’t a way Twilight could tell this dark story with positive tones. After a deep breath, she continued.

“Radagast will warn Gandalf, the wizard some of you might have read about, about the Ringwraiths. They are servants of Sauron, the Dark Lord and main antagonist of the story. Later on he will retreat to the far East, where he tries to breed an army of evil creatures to conquer all of Middle Earth and enslave all of the other races in a maddening lust for power. The Ringwraiths want to capture Frodo and take the Ring to their master, after the Dark Lord summoned them.”

Twilight told the story with an almost dramatic tone, as if she were reading it aloud to an audience. For Twilight and her friends, it was still hard to accept this peculiar fantasy story as a reality. Twilight cleared her throat and continued her tale.

“But Fluttershy has been teleported even before that; even before Radagast warns Gandalf of the awakening and the hunt of the Ringwraiths. You see, before Sauron settles in the dark land of Mordor to begin his conquest, he disguises himself as a necromancer, as described in the book The Hobbit. And then he… well… he makes his home in the abandoned fortress of Dol Guldur.”

That last name sounded as if Twilight had a bad cough. It made Pinkie chuckle, but the rest of the ponies could hear the evil in that name. Twilight Sparkle hung her head, and forced the last facts out of her mouth.

“And Dol Guldur lies inside the Greenwood.”

Frowns and gasps were scattered among the ponies. Applejack recovered quickly, perhaps because she found it the most difficult to immerse herself into a fantasy world and to realize the danger. “So, if I understand correctly, Fluttershy will be wandering at the enemy’s doorstep.”

Twilight nodded; her eyes were closed. “The dark lord’s presence and influence will seep into the Greenwood and corrupt it. Animals will go feral, plants will wither, the earth itself will become infertile. From his fortress, Sauron will hunt the elves and drive them to the North, into the mountains. The forest will become dark and clad in an ever-present state of decay. From then on, men will start to call it, ‘Mirkwood.’”

Everypony was silent. Twilight Sparkle had ended her tale. She hung her head low, and felt desperation seep into her like yesterday evening, after the accident.

“How long do we have before the forest becomes bad?” Applejack asked.

“A week, maybe two,” Twilight said, barely audible.

The ponies looked at each other, silently taking in the dark story they had been told. Each of them wondered whether it would have been a better idea if the details would have remained hidden. Nevertheless, they knew what was at stake now. Not only the nerves, but also the life of their friend, the element of kindness, Fluttershy. Then, as if on cue, they all stood up, and walked over to Twilight Sparkle.

“Hey, come on, Twi,” Applejack said. “We can do this!”

“Yeah, we’ll get her back,” Rainbow Dash added.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Starlight said.

Spike said nothing, but stroked the alicorn’s tail.

Rarity lifted Twilight’s chin with her hoof and looked into her wavering, watery eyes. “Don’t be desperate, darling. Together we can accomplish wonders, you know that. We are all prepared to make sacrifices.”

“Yeah, I love to sacrifice,” Pinkie Pie yelled in her squeaky voice, obviously having no idea what that word meant. “I’ll even sacrifice my sense of humor if I have to.”

To that, Twilight managed a smile, and the rest chuckled as well. Powered by Pinkie’s ever-present humor, they felt their warm, magical bond of friendship flow from pony to pony. They all shared the same thought; the thought about Fluttershy. All of them wanted to get her back, and all of them were prepared to do everything it took to accomplish their goal.

The plan was set; the tasks divided.

“Alright, everypony,” Rainbow Dash cried out, clopping her hooves together. “Let’s get Fluttershy back!”

Chapter six: planning and building

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The morning greeted her just as cheerfully as the day before. Once more Fluttershy looked outside the window to the mysterious forest surrounding Rhosgobel. Her thoughts went back to yesterday. Yesterday had been a day of rest. A day of settling the mood, of talking and explaining, of laughing and planning, of comforting and helping. All day long Fluttershy and Radagast had talked, drank tea, and enjoyed each other’s company and the tasty pastries Radagast had made. At the end, things did become more serious, with Fluttershy explaining just exactly how she got into this world, but Radagast had tried to keep the mood light, and they hadn’t done much more notable business after Fluttershy’s revelation; the wizard needed time to think about it, think about it for a long time.

All night, Radagast had laid awake, thinking about the things Fluttershy had told him. At breakfast, Radagast shared his thoughts with the little pegasus.

“Fluttershy,” Radagast said, while smearing some strawberry jam on a slice of hot, freshly baked bread, “I have been thinking about the things you told me…”

Fluttershy looked up from her meal, a piece of hay dangling from the corner of her mouth.

“You see, you told me that your friends teleported you using a machine, but I think there must have been some magic involved as well. The way you told me about the way your friend Twilight Sparkle teleports herself, teleportation is a very common spell in your world. Now, I am not at all an expert on teleportation magic, but my guess is that the machine amplified the spell to be able to reach out to other worlds.”

Fluttershy nodded, although she found it difficult to understand. ”I think my friends will do everything in their power to help me get back. At least… I hope they can do that.”

Radagast raised a bristly eyebrow. “Of course they will, don’t be silly. If your friends are anything like you told me yesterday, I can’t think of a reason why they wouldn’t.” But with a shock, Radagast realized what she meant. “Oh, of course. The machine has exploded… Are you absolutely certain it did?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, her voice soft and careful, sad even. “That’s the last thing I remembered. The last thing I saw. I saw the machine tilting and falling down, severing some of the cables and exploding in a rain of sparks.”

“I see,” Radagast stroked his beard, brushing some bread crumbs out of the greying hairs. “Well, in that case, it will be wise not to count on them too much. We will have to find a way to bring you back to Equestria—I will have to find a way to bring you back to Equestria.”

“Yes…” Fluttershy looked down at the ground, as she had no idea what to say. She couldn’t possibly think about an easy solution to that, even though the wizard sounded so confident.

And he sounded that way for a reason. Although Radagast knew it would be difficult, if not impossible; knew it would be tricky, if not dangerous; knew that it would be intense, or that nothing would happen at all, he still wanted to share the thing that wouldn’t leave his mind in his dreams.

“Fluttershy,” he said, his voice almost as careful as the pony’s, “I have to tell you something. Last night I have been thinking and dreaming. And… well… I think I have found a way which may just get you back home.”

Even though the wizard had emphasized the ‘may,’ Fluttershy couldn’t contain the sudden feeling of hope, bursting like firework and sparkling in her eyes like diamonds. She looked at the wizard with big, pleading eyes. “You… you do?”

“Yes, I might.” Radagast took a sip of his milk, as if it could help him to explain his plan. He decided to just tell it, as straightforwardly as he could. “There is a place in the Greenwood, a magical place. It is a place where the magical energies of the woods converge. Not the biggest focal point, but definitely one of the most potent. The elves, which used to inhabit those regions, used to gather at that spot to perform rituals and teach each other about magic, as that was easy to do with the swirling magical streams. Last night I’ve meditated and dreamed, and I saw that it is still there.”

Radagast paused, as he reckoned all of this ancient lore would be difficult to understand. Fluttershy, however, seemed to understand all of it just fine, as she sat on the edge of her seat, all ears for the wizard’s tale.

“Now the thing is, Fluttershy, I know many different spells myself. Most of them have to do with plant-speak or animal languages, and I possess a great array of healing spells too. But in the past I used teleportation spells a lot to get from one place to another. Now, I’m not exactly a master in teleportation, as I don’t use that kind of magic much anymore; I enjoy traveling on foot and with my sled much more.” Radagast winked. “Because that’s much more fun than just disappearing from someplace and reappear in another. Poof!” He twirled his arms around in the air. “But I’m trailing off here. The point is that, with a little reading, I’m certain that I will be able to dig those old teleportation spells out of the dusty corners of my memory.”

Radagast paused again, as he reached the essence of his story. Fluttershy still looked entirely captivated.

“And if I combine my knowledge and experience of teleportation, and interweave it with the magics flowing through the focal point, maybe—just maybe—I might be able to teleport you across other dimensions, until you reach your own.”

To those last words, Fluttershy’s mind boggled. It all made sense. Radagast was a wizard himself, capable of using magic. Of course he might be able to teleport her home himself. Fluttershy swept her tail from side to side, and leaned even further forward. “So what does it look like? Are we going there today? Can I help you prepare the spells?”

Radagast bit his lip. “I will have to read a couple of books, so it might take a while before I remember all of my old tricks. But… but first… eh… ” Radagast shuffled on his seat, looking almost awkwardly at the ground. “I’m not sure if I can ask this from you, Fluttershy but… well… would you… eh…”

“I will do anything for you, Radagast,” Fluttershy said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it is the least I can do in return for your hospitality.”

Radagast didn’t look her in the eyes, but instead looked outside the window at the sunrays reflected by the dust. “Well… You see, Fluttershy. I’ve walked outside and looked at the state of Rhosgobel and, well… I thought it might be a good idea to…”

“To fix the damage from the storm,” Fluttershy finished for him; she had read it in his eyes.

“Yes, exactly. I reckoned we will finish it much quicker together, as four hands make lighter work—or two hands and two hooves. And besides, I don’t want the roof to fall on our heads while we’re busy working on the spell. I’m not sure if I can teleport us from underneath the roof of my house.”

Fluttershy chuckled. “It’s alright, Radagast. Of course I’ll help you.”

Radagast sighed, and together, they finished breakfast and gathered some tools.

* *

Fluttershy hadn’t really thought about it, but today, she would set her first steps—or her first conscious steps—into the world of Middle Earth. Fluttershy looked forward to feeling the sun on her hide, and she trotted cheerfully out the door.

“What do you think, Fluttershy?” Radagast said, gesturing back at Rhosgobel.

“It looks… well… nice,” Fluttershy said. A little white lie, but she didn’t want to upset Radagast.

In the light of the early morning, coming from behind the two creatures, Rhosgobel looked utterly miserable. The rickety cabin looked as if a giant had stepped on it, realized his mistake, and had then scraped the cottage off his foot to let it land with a loud bang back on the ground. There was no doubt about it, the storm had really shaken Rhosgobel.

The roof was sacked, covered in broken roof tiles and splinters of wood, how it hadn’t collapsed, Radagast couldn’t begin to comprehend. The central beams were still upright, luckily, but they were standing diagonal, instead of proud and upright, partly lost in the saggy earth. Radagast’s cheerful smokestack was just a heap of stone now, barely recognizable as a smokestack. In silence, the wizard considered himself lucky that there had been at least a hole through which the smoke of his cooking could have escaped.

Strangely enough, no windows were shattered; even the one in the door was intact. Around the home, however, the gardens were utterly destroyed. The sneak-peek Fluttershy had cast on the garden had only revealed a small portion of the carnage. Puddles of water had gathered in the middle of the fields, where many different herbs and vegetables were drowning. Even the fences surrounding the gardens hadn’t been spared, as they lay in scattered heaps like fallen domino-bricks.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Radagast said, “but there’s no need to be polite. The place is ravaged. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Fluttershy looked up at the wizard. “I think I have an idea. Every time I am cleaning my own home, I start at the top and finish sweeping the floor. Maybe we can do that here as well.”

“Of course,” Radagast said, still not taking his eyes off the battered cabin. “That’s a splendid idea.” Then he shook his head, as if he forced himself back in the here and now. “I’ll go get a ladder.”

A minute later the wizard returned with a sturdy, oak ladder. He put it against the wall, making sure it was stable, and placed a foot on the first step. Then the second step, then the third. When he was halfway to the top, Radagast looked down to see where Fluttershy was, but couldn’t see her. Turning back his head, Radagast was just about to call for her, when she appeared right beside him at the same height, wings flapping gently up and down.

Radagast let out a cry of surprise, and toppled backwards. Before he could crash down to the ground, however, Fluttershy caught ladder and wizard in mid-air. She laid both softly on the grass.

“Are you ok, Radagast?” Fluttershy said, hovering beside him.

“Y-y-yes… I am… I am alright,” but in reality, he wasn’t. Radagast’s eyes became as big as saucers as he looked at Fluttershy, hovering in the air in front of him. Of course, Radagast had imagined her flying, and had painted a mental picture about how that would look like. But seeing her fly, right in front of his eyes, was much different.

“Are you sure?” Fluttershy said at the absent look in the wizard’s eyes.

Radagast shook his head in an attempt to speak normal sentences again. “Yes, Fluttershy. It’s just that I am not quite used to ponies flying around my front yard.”

Fluttershy looked back at her wings, and quickly landed. “Oh, yes, of course. You’re right. I won’t fly anymore if you don’t want me to.”

To that, Radagast let out a funny, high-pitched laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fluttershy. You can fly whenever you want. It’s just that I’ll have to get used to it, that’s all. In fact, I think having a flying companion might be very useful when we’re going to repair the roof.”

Fluttershy smiled. “Of course. Shall we begin?”

And with a nod of his head, Radagast climbed the ladder a second time; this time he did make it to the roof.

They started working. Many of the roof tiles were at least partly broken and had to be replaced. Some beams were also broken, splintered, or simply rotten; Radagast had never really had the time for maintenance on his home. Their last task would be the cobblestone smokestack, which they would build up using mortar and more cobblestone. First, Radagast removed the birdhouse of the two peregrine falcons, who were not at home.

While Radagast worked on loosening the roof tiles, Fluttershy handed him the new ones and helped to nail them down on the wooden frame. Soon they were as productive as any factory, Fluttershy swooping up and down to get new tiles and together hammering them into place. Radagast thought about how long it would have taken them to accomplish the task if he would be all by himself. Before the sun had reached its apex, the two workers were already halfway.

As they were working, Radagast couldn’t stop looking at how Fluttershy worked. She placed the tiles with surgical precision in place, and then used her hoof to hammer the nails in place. The pony didn’t shed a mere droplet of sweat, and moved with sure and delicate movements.

“You look like you’ve done this before,” Radagast said as Fluttershy finished a nail. She paused and landed on the roof.

“Yes, I have. I live in a cottage myself as well, at the edge of Ponyville, where the marshlands begin. It may sound uncomfortable, but it’s very fertile land, if not a bit remote, but that can be nice sometimes.”

“Certainly,” Radagast said, and put down his hammer; he needed a break anyway. “So does your cabin look anything like my great and beautiful palace?”

Fluttershy chuckled. “In a certain way, yes. Oh, you would love it, Radagast. You would love all of my animal friends skittering around the grass; the birds tweeting in the air, making their way towards one of the many birdhouses on the roof. The calm, gentle stream would sound like music to your ears. Really, there is no sound more beautiful to rock you to sleep as the sound of a rippling stream.”

“Unless it emerges from a storm,” Radagast said, glancing over the edge of the roof to his soaked vegetable gardens.

“Don’t worry Radagast, I’m sure we can fix that as well,” Fluttershy said, her voice as gentle as any rustling stream.

Radagast smiled a thin smile. “Of course.” Trying to distract himself from the thought of such a titan’s task, Radagast decided to extend his break. “So it’s very similar, your cottage?”

“Yes, but there are differences too. I like to have a whole lot of earth and grass on my roof. It’s great insulation, and the rabbits like to play in it as well.” Fluttershy chuckled. “It’s quite an adventure for them to be up there, gazing out over the fields and the marshlands. And there’s flowers of course; lots of flowers. Like beautiful yellow daffodils, or white lilies floating on the water, and of course many daisies, with which the birds love to decorate their nests.”

Radagast closed his eyes and imagined the picture. It looked beautiful. Compared to Fluttershy’s cottage, his own had to look like an ordinary shack. Radagast couldn’t help but feel a little shame creep up inside of him. Here he sat, together with the most innocent, beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And here he sat, an old, ragged wizard, living like a hermit in the forest. In his tattered robes and with his wild beard, he had to look like a tramp.

“If you ever get the chance, I will show you around,” Fluttershy said, although she knew that would likely never happen.

Radagast imagined what that would be like, and especially how the ponies would react to him, were he ever to enter the world of Equestria. With a sigh he concluded that they would probably get scared of his strange appearance, if every pony inhabitant of that world would look like Fluttershy; full of bright pastel colors and adorned with shiny eyes.

Fluttershy saw the wizard’s sigh, and wanted to cheer him up with another funny story; she wrongly guessed that Radagast wasn’t over the complete destruction of his gardens yet. “Sometimes I do some maintenance on my cottage myself, you know, to prevent animals from hurting themselves on loose nails or splinters,” Fluttershy said. “But often Applejack helps me with those jobs. I’ve learned so much from her. I’m sure she has built maybe a thousand barns and fixed a thousand roofs. She taught me to use my hooves as hammers.”

“I wish I could do that,” Radagast said.

Laughing, Fluttershy said, “Maybe Applejack can teach you as well.”

Then there was a silence, but not an uncomfortable one. In the silence, both Fluttershy and Radagast took the time to enjoy the beautiful weather. Even though winter was on the doorstep, there was still some warmth in the air, as the sun continued to shine. Sometimes, a squirrel or a bird appeared from the tree line, looking curiously in the direction of Rhosgobel. To Fluttershy, it appeared that the animals here were more skittish than they were in Equestria, but still Fluttershy saw in their eyes that they were more at ease here, in Rhosgobel.

“Your cottage looks like a safe haven for all creatures,” Fluttershy said, admiration glowing in her voice.

“Yes… I suppose it is,” Radagast said. “Although the forest animals know how to look after themselves as good as I do. They sometimes pass by for a snack, and stay a day or two, but then they’re on their way again.”

“Oh. They look so much different from the animals in Equestria.”

“Really?” Radagast said with a raised eyebrow. “How so?”

Fluttershy fumbled for words, hard as she found it to explain. “I… I think the animals back home speak to me more. I can speak their languages and the other way around. They’re somehow more familiar to me, even though Equestrian animals and animals from Middle Earth look the same. They’re probably the same species as well.”

“I understand,” Radagast said. “And your favorite animals are butterflies?”

Fluttershy looked at the wizard’s eyes. They were shining as if saying: ‘You didn’t expect me to guess that, did you?’

“N-not particularly,” Fluttershy said. “I love every animal, no matter the species; bunnies, birds, fish, bears—“

“BEARS?!” Radagast said. He stumbled and almost fell off the roof.

“Yes, I have a bear as well. Harry is his name, and he needs a massage every day. You wouldn’t believe how stressful the life of a bear can be.”

When Radagast saw that the yellow pegasus wasn’t joking, he calmed down, and uttered a familiar, “I see,” even though he couldn’t see that picture before his mind’s eye: Fluttershy jumping on top of a bear to give it a relaxing massage. Then a thought struck his mind, and his voice became low and earnest, as he decided that Fluttershy had to know the things he was about to tell, for her own safety. “Well, you shouldn’t try that here in Middle Earth, Fluttershy.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Because bears here are… quite different from your Harry, I’m afraid.” Radagast’s face darkened, as he remembered something that had happened long ago. One day, when Radagast had returned from a long hike, he had found his cottage in ruin. Not like right now, because, apart from a mangled front door, the exterior of the cottage had been fine. The inside, however, was in utter disarray. Barrels had been opened, cupboards had been plundered, and the kitchen was ravaged, pots and pans swept aside to get to the tasty ingredients. Radagast had had no doubt about the criminal; a bear. Even though it lay heavy on his heart, Radagast knew what he had to do. The thing with bears is, they have a very good memory. Once a bear finds a very fertile spot of land with loads of berries, or if a bear finds a river brimming with salmon, it will remember that. So naturally, the bear that had intruded Radagast’s home would remember exactly where he or she got so many tasty treats, and was bound to return.

Radagast had made the decision, perhaps it had been the most difficult decision he had ever made. He sat outside and meditated, trying to find the essence of the bear’s magical energy. He found it immediately, as the residue still lingered in Rhosgobel. Without much trouble, Radagast had been able to pinpoint the exact location of the bear.

After a surprisingly short trip on his sled, Radagast found the bear’s lair: a cave in one of the many hills of the Greenwood. Radagast never imagined himself using the spell ever again, but he knew he had to. Approaching the bear, all the while chanting in a language ancient and stuttering, he had lashed out, and killed the bear the moment it turned its head to check on the intruder. At least Radagast had made it quick.

With tears in his eyes, Radagast had walked back out of the cave, when a high-pitched cry came from within. He turned around, and saw two baby bears at the corpse of their mother.

Even baby bears have good memories.

It was the most unnatural thing Radagast had ever done, and he knew it wasn’t right. Hunting mothers and children of a creature that normally hunted only for itself was the most vile thing Radagast could think of, next to hunting for sport. Even though Radagast knew he hunted for the right and natural reason—to protect his home—he still felt devastated when he lowered his staff. For days, he had been weeping for the creatures, filled with sorrow and regret. Now, with Fluttershy’s tale of bears, it all came back to him.

Fluttershy looked at the vague face of the wizard, wondering what to say.

“Bears are much different here in the Greenwood, Fluttershy,” Radagast said, his voice earnest. “They are wild and dangerous. Not evil, though, but they will do what it takes to survive.”

“But aren’t you able to talk to them?” Fluttershy said.

“No, little Fluttershy. Animals mostly look after themselves here in the Greenwood. Yes, sometimes a weak or injured one comes to me, with which I can then speak using the magical energy the creature bears, which I can shape. Bears never come to me. They are much too proud for that, and they never need my care. They do possess the same magical energy all of the other creatures do, and lots of it. It’s just that with predatory creatures, because they are proud and self-sufficient, they often don’t want to make the magical connection that enables me to speak with them. They simply don’t want or need to.”

“That sounds horrible,” Fluttershy said, looking to the left and right as if afraid that a bear might climb the ladder and sneak up on her.

“It’s not,” Radagast said. “It is the way nature works. Predators will always remain predators, little Fluttershy.”

In order to make those words carry meaning, Fluttershy thought back about the Everfree forest. It was a forest, close to Ponyville, where nopony had dealings with. Pony’s rarely ventured into that place, and if they did, they made sure not to linger for too long. Animals and plants cared for themselves there as well, and even though Fluttershy was able to speak with them, they were often wild and unpredictable. Strange monsters called the forest their home. Manticores, cockatrices, chimaera’s, and sometimes Fluttershy had even seen dragons landing between those mangled trees. The plants and trees were high in the Everfree forest, constantly trying to overgrow the other in an endless race for the most sunlight. Quite often Fluttershy had had to treat a creature who came out of the Everfree forest with some kind of injury. She could imagine.

“Yes… I understand,” she said.

Another silence, this one much more uncomfortable than the first. In it, Radagast was struggling with his dark thoughts, just like Fluttershy.

Suddenly, a tweeting bird came flying by. It circled above their heads and then landed on Radagast’s hammer.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Alexander,” Radagast said to the bird. “I’m going to need that, and when I do, you don’t want to keep sitting on it—especially not on that end.”

Alexander tweeted and moved over to sit on a loose nail, almost as if he was teasing the wizard.

To the sight of the daring and silly bird, Fluttershy laughed. Immediately, the tension and dark thoughts fluttered away on the wings of the robin. The little bird vaguely reminded Fluttershy of Rainbow Dash and her ever brash stature.

“But I’m still curious,” Radagast said after a while. “Why do you have butterflies painted on your flank?”

Fluttershy looked for a moment at the picture on her behind, swinging away her tail to reveal the three pink butterflies flying over each other. The remnants of her chuckle appeared as a smile on her face. “They’re not painted, Radagast. It’s just my cutie mark.”

“Your beauty mark?”

“No, cutie mark,” Fluttershy said. “Ponies get them when they discover their special talents. Then they appear as a picture on that pony’s flank.”

“Oh!” Radagast looked closely at the picture, but then realized that staring at someone’s bottom was quite rude, and withdrew with blushing cheeks. Quickly searching for something to say, he eventually dug up a few words, and repeated his question. “So why butterflies?”

“Butterflies hold a special meaning to me,” Fluttershy said. “In the past, I used to live in Cloudsdale, a floating city high up in the sky, but I wasn’t really happy there. Life was… challenging for me. But one day, I discovered the earth far below. I discovered the trees and the plants, the animals and the critters, and then I knew I was home; I knew where I wanted to be. The first animals I saw were butterflies, and I didn’t know what I saw! They were so colorful and beautiful, but at the same time very fragile and sensitive. Something resonated inside of me, as if I had discovered a new land—which, in a sense, I had—but at the same time it was as if I had finally come home after a long and tiring flight. That day, I vowed to study animals and take care of them if they would need me. I wanted every creature in the forest to become my friend.”

“How wonderful,” Radagast said, feeling the story of Fluttershy right in his heart. He too, had found his home here in the Greenwood. Never had he felt at home between the loud and clumsy folks of Middle Earth, but he had found solace in the perfection of nature and the grace and cheerfulness of his animal friends. Rhosgobel was Radagast’s safe haven, and the Greenwood was his home with the animals his visitors. Radagast looked at the little pegasus, and for a moment, he felt her energy as an aura around her. His eyebrow shot up as he saw how similar the glow looked. He wanted to know more. “This cutie mark, is it magical?”

“It is,” Fluttershy said, swinging her long tail back so it covered her flank again. “It’s quite a special feeling when you earn your cutie mark. It’s like… It’s like you meet a new friend on the street, but then you realize that you already know him or her very well. It’s like meeting yourself, although you knew all along what you were like. In a flash, your cutie mark appears on your flank, for all to see for the rest of your life—oh, and it tickles a bit.” Fluttershy peeked once more at her flank, as if she was checking if it was still there. “And I guess mine is extra special.”

“Is that so?” Even though Fluttershy said those words very softly, Radagast had still caught them. “Why, if I may ask?”

“Because, well… I’m one of the elements.”

To Radagast, that sounded very magical, and his curiosity sparked. “What are the elements? Is it a magical order? You said that there was some supervision on the usage of magic, didn’t you?”

Fluttershy looked down, modest as she was, and traced circles with her hoof in the sawdust. “It is kind of a magical order. The elements of harmony are magical objects, which my friends and I keep in order to use their powers. Each one of my friends represents a different element. There’s loyalty, honesty, generosity, laughter, kindness, and magic.”

Radagast stroked his beard with an amusing smile buried beneath it. “Now that you say it, those things do make a good friendship. I can’t help but wonder about how well you Equestrians have infused your magic with goodness and light. Which element do you represent? Oh no wait, let me guess. You… agreed to help me repair my house, so it’s loyalty?”

Fluttershy chuckled, as she started comparing herself to Rainbow Dash, the actual element of loyalty. She imagined herself with a rainbow mane and tail, training all day long and flying together with the Wonderbolts on dangerous missions. She did admire Rainbow Dash, of course, and deep in her heart, Fluttershy felt that a droplet of Rainbow’s courage couldn’t hurt her. But she was nothing like Dash, nothing like Dash at all.

“I represent kindness,” Fluttershy said.

“Ah, of course, that would have been my second choice,” Radagast said, fumbling with his hands. “It’s a shame there isn’t an element of handiwork.”

Once more they laughed, and even Alexander the robin tweeted along. But Radagast’s curiosity was not stilled yet. “So if I understand it correctly, your cutie mark is both your trademark and your source of power?”

Fluttershy nodded. “Yes. Do you have such a thing too? Oh, your staff, of course.”

“You could say that,” Radagast said.

Now Fluttershy was the one who got a bit curious. “What does your staff do?”

“It… well…” Radagast doubted whether he should tell the little pegasus, as it was a wizard’s tool meant to be used by wizards alone. But then again, Radagast knew that Fluttershy wouldn’t steal it, let alone abuse its powers. It was far more likely that she would be scared of it. Radagast shifted into a more comfortable position on the wooden tiles, and did his best to explain the staff’s workings. “The staff itself isn’t that interesting, actually; It’s just an oak branch. But what is very interesting is the focusing crystal on top. It helps me to focus my magic into one point, from which I can steer it to the direction of my choice. It also works a bit like a magnet; the magic is drawn to it like flies to honey.”

“I see…” Fluttershy said, although the doubtful look in her eyes betrayed how she really felt about Radagast’s staff. It sounded complicated.

“It’s quite complicated,” Radagast said. “Because the staff is so versatile. I can also use it as a storage crate. A part of my magic—not all of it, of course—is stored inside the crystal, so I can call upon that effortlessly, to give my spells an extra boost when needed. Absorbing magic is also something it can do, a very rare feature.

Fluttershy nodded once more, but her mind boggled from all this wizardry-talk. She diverted her gaze for a moment, looked around at the half-finished roof, and then up at the sun; it was halfway across the sky. “Maybe we should finish the roof, Radagast. It is pretty late already.”

“Yes,” Radagast said, and followed her gaze to the sky. As if on cue, Alexander the robin flew up and away, until he disappeared between the shrubs of the tree line. “Well, it seems even Alexander wants to have a good roof above his head.”

Chuckling, the two creatures, wizard and pegasus, grabbed their tools and went back to work.

* *

The rest of the day they worked together under the traveling sun and the rustling wind. Soon the roof was nice and neat again, and they started on the pile of cracked stones that had to become a smokestack again. After Radagast made some crude mortar, he and Fluttershy set to build the thing up like it was a house. Fluttershy looked very curiously at the wizard when he stood with his arms circling above the buckets of mortar. “An invocation to make the mortar stronger,” Radagast said to the odd look Fluttershy gave him. “I will cast a second one over it to make it lighter.” Fluttershy shouldn’t have been surprised, and she reckoned that unicorn stonemasons would probably be able to do that as well.

When the smokestack stood erect, like a miniature tower against the greying sky, Fluttershy and Radagast proceeded to the next task: the support beams. With the help of an improvised winch and a lever, they were able to take some weight off the roof and push the beams straight. Just to be sure, they bound them tightly together with ropes and hammered a few nails in them. By then, the sun had retreated beyond the ring of trees, and the moon chased behind it. Above Fluttershy’s head, birds, squirrels, chickens, goats, and other animals started flying and walking by more frequently. Some retreated inside pens or in Radagast’s cabin itself, while other, more nocturnal animals flew into the forest, disappearing between the leaf crowns of the trees. At a familiar, high-pitched sound, Fluttershy winced and her head shot up. Flying over her, barely a head higher than she was, were black, leathery bats, zipping through the air. They were so fast Fluttershy couldn’t follow them with her eyes, and memories of one of her most strange experiences accompanied her with her work.

Even though the moon wasn’t full, it still provided the two workers with enough light to see their hands—or hooves—before their eyes. The fences surrounding the gardens deserved their attention; shaving the splinters off the crude wood would come later. Fluttershy held the poles upright with her hooves and sometimes with her head, while Radagast hit them with a large sledgehammer made of a massive branch with a flat-headed stone. Every time the hammer came down upon the wood, Fluttershy felt the vibrations travel from the top to the bottom of the pole, and then into the ground beneath her hooves. She couldn’t help but be amazed by the wizard’s strength. Even though he wasn’t even that much taller than Fluttershy herself, the hard life in the forest had apparently grown into a hidden source of strength inside of the old man. Compared to life in Equestria, life in the Greenwood had to be challenging from time to time.

Despite the heavy blows of Radagast’s hammer, Fluttershy wasn’t afraid. She saw how carefully the wizard worked; he was clearly experienced. Fluttershy trusted him, and Radagast trusted Fluttershy. They could both feel how well they worked together. It was as if they were feeling each other’s movements, and always knew what had to be done next. They were synchronized, in a sense, and it enabled them to finish the chores much faster than they initially thought.

Stars began to speckle the sky, and the air grew colder. Radagast decided to call it a day. He told Fluttershy that he would look after the ruined crops and garden later. Fluttershy insisted that she wasn’t tired yet, although she could feel a blanket of exhaustion wrap around her like the falling night sky. When the last bit of the fence was completed, they both retreated into Radagast’s cabin, which now looked better than ever.

They had a quick but tasty dinner, after which Fluttershy immediately fell asleep; she didn’t even reach the bed. Radagast stood up, and carefully laid the featherweight pegasus on the bed, where he covered her underneath the many blankets. “Sleep well, Fluttershy,” the wizard said, “tomorrow we will see some action.”

Despite his tired eyes, illuminated in the glowing light of the hearth fire, Radagast didn’t sit down. He walked towards a particularly dusty bookcase, reached up, and drew out a large, leather-bound book; then another one, and another one. He placed them on the table, careful not to wake his sleeping guest with the thud or the dust flying from the covers. Only then did Radagast sit down, and reached for his reading glasses. “Alright, let’s see what we have here.”

As Radagast flipped through the pages of the first book, it revealed nothing but gibberish. Strange, swirling circles and diamonds, which might just represent pictures, accompanied by even stranger lines and scribbles, which might just represent words and letters. To Radagast, however, these symbols were as clear as a fresh mountain stream. They were ancient languages, elvish mostly, and the symbols were helping circles, designed to attract and amplify magical energy from the surroundings. Only these symbols weren’t meant to be drawn on the ground in the dirt, but they were to be carved on the bark of trees or in stones. Radagast spent only a few seconds on every page, determined to reclaim as many forgotten knowledge and memories as quickly as he could; determined to get Fluttershy back home. Those few seconds were enough, as soon the rusty cogs in his mind started moving, oiled once again with the knowledge from the pages.

With every page he crossed, he remembered more about the art of teleportation, its workings, its feeling, and the things required to perform it. There were many different spells written in the books, complete with different verbal or mental incantations. Sometimes an object was required too, a stabilizer to ensure the teleportation going smooth. There were herbs or potions which had to be smelled or drunk, musical notes that had to be sung or played, and movements which had to be made like a dance.

But the most important aspect was the magic; the ability to concentrate on the streams and the flow of energy and channel it into one place. It was this task which was perhaps the most difficult one, and required the most concentration.

“The circle of channeling… Combined with these components… these objects…”

Radagast muttered many words and fragments of words under his breath, some in elvish; some in the common tongue. With his tongue sticking out of his mouth, Radagast scribbled symbols and loose words on a scrap of parchment. Then, when there was no more room to scribble on, he grabbed another one, and soon a pile of notes gathered next to his right hand.

Radagast realized that he had to be creative. Of course, there was nothing in his books about interdimensional teleportation, and Radagast doubted whether or not such a book would exist anywhere in Middle Earth. He had to be creative and invent a spell of his own. A mutant spell pieced together from many different kinds of teleportation spells, complete with the necessary symbols, words and components. Silently, Radagast wished that his friend Gandalf were here, to be able to help him in this daunting task.

That was one of the last conscious thoughts Radagast heard in his mind, as his head began to feel heavy and hard to bear. He imagined it would be because of the new knowledge he stuffed inside of it, but soon, his beard curled up beneath him, as the wizard laid his head on top of a page about magical circles. And so, with his quill still clutched between his fingers, Radagast fell asleep and dreamed about magic. ansi-languag�v[�* 2

Chapter seven: dragons? Danger? Adventure?

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Spike had silently hoped that he’d never have to return to this part of Equestria. Yet here he walked, next to Rainbow Dash, on the tortured, ashen soil of the Dragon Lands.

It was one of the oldest regions in all of Equestria, created by the same violent natural force that shaped the Yaket range in the North. But where the Yaket range was a frozen, harsh mountain range, the Dragon Lands were a heat-blasted volcanic area.

Everywhere they looked, there was some kind of natural force at work. Everywhere there were mountains with jagged peaks, looking almost like the claws of the dragons inhabiting the lands. Occasionally, a volcano breathed out a gout of smoke and sometimes even lava, streaming down cracks and wounds in the earth. The few lakes that weren’t dried out bubbled and steamed, warmed by an unseen heat source deep within the earth.

Even though the terrain was uneven and mountainous, there was still one volcano that was always visible: the Gauntlet of Fire. It was the biggest volcano in all the land, and held a ceremonial meaning to the dragons; a meaning Spike knew all too well.

The little dragon had trouble keeping up with Rainbow Dash. She hovered above the ground, comfortably drifting on the rising hot air. But Spike trotted over the ash-strewn path—if you could call it that. Paths were rare in the Dragon Lands, as most dragons preferred to fly. Only a few dragons lacked wings, and they were looked upon as inferior creatures, not worth a comfortable path to walk on.

Suddenly, as they walked beside a steaming hot source, a geyser erupted and made a white-hot rain fall down the skies. Rainbow Dash swooped around it, but Spike let the boiling water fall upon his scales. He was a dragon, and despite the fear he felt for these lands, they were his natural habitat. This land was made for dragons, and dragons were made for this land.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Rainbow Dash said, as the geyser calmed down again. “It all looks the same to me.”

Spike paused for a second to shake himself dry, then looked up at the pegasus. “Yes. The Castle of the Dragon-Lords should be this way.”

“Then why am I not seeing anything?” Dash said.

“Because it’s a hidden fortress, carved out of the mountain range. It’s not supposed to be found easily, you know?”

“Oh.”

Despite the Dragons Lands practically screaming the words ‘hazard,’ and ‘adventure,’ Rainbow Dash was still upset. So far their journey had been a boring one. They had traveled to Baltimare by train, and had then taken a boat towards the Dragon Lands. A trader had taken them aboard, heading towards the Dragon Lands to get some precious gems and valuable metal in exchange for his goods. Even though he was obviously experienced with the journey, he had still looked quite wary and vigilant, as if anything could happen anytime. That had sparked Rainbow Dash’s enthusiasm, but so far, they hadn’t even encountered one dragon, as the port had been deserted, much to the shipper’s concern.

“Are there even dragons here?” Rainbow Dash said, her voice dripping with mockery. “They should have left the word ‘dragon’ out of the name.”

Spike frowned. “Yes, there are dragons here, Rainbow Dash. I just don’t know where they’ve all gone. Maybe there’s some dragon-festival going on or something. I know how much they like sports.”

But Rainbow Dash could hear the uncertainty in Spike’s voice. The truth was: even he didn’t know exactly where the Castle of the Dragon-Lords was. He had only been there once, shortly after the trials of the Gauntlet of Fire and princess Ember’s coronation as the new Dragon-Lord—or Dragon-Lady. But the little dragon figured that Rainbow Dash would be able to spot the structure through the sky.

“Why don’t you do another swoop, Rainbow Dash?” Spike said.

Rainbow Dash sighed, flapped her wings, and circled higher on the thermal updrafts. She let the comfortable warmth of the air wave her mane and tail. Rainbow always liked to rest and relax at higher altitudes, where the thinner air calmed her mind. Once she was satisfied, the pegasus whirled around and gazed at the land before her.

Copper rocks, occasionally smeared with black clouds of ash, stretched before her like an abstract painting. The razor-sharp peaks of the mountains gleamed a scarlet orange as the sun illuminated them, trying its best to penetrate the blanket of dusty clouds and fine ash waving through the air. Far away, Rainbow saw another glow of light; probably another restless volcano. Rocks, fire, but no castle to be seen—and, to Rainbow’s disappointment, no dragons.

Dash was very eager to see dragons. Of course she had seen some of them, during the migration and during Spike’s quest to find his dragon roots, but every dragon was different. Especially the adult dragons were big, dangerous, armed with shimmering teeth and razor-sharp claws. They were awesome.

Rainbow Dash squinted her eyes and scanned the horizon one more time, concentrating to find some movement in the restless sky, other than the clouds of ash billowing from the earth like big black mushrooms. At one point, her eyes blinked as she saw a short flash towards the horizon, above ground level, but then it was gone again. No dragons inhabited the searing skies.

“And?”

“Nothing,” Rainbow Dash grumbled, and they marched on in silence.

As they covered a few more miles, the ground suddenly became restless. It wasn’t the violent shaking of an earthquake, but there was definitely something going on beneath their legs. They heard a rumbling sound, as if the earth itself sighed heavily, burdened by the many volcanoes and pits that rested upon its shoulders. Dust and loose rocks shifted on the ground, and Spike had to sit down to prevent himself from falling down. Then, the rumbling became louder, and Spike gazed ahead at the source of it. About half a mile ahead, the face of a gigantic cliff crumbled down beneath its own weight in a deadly, rocky avalanche. The force of the falling rocks made the earth tremble, and a cloud of mangled dust, at least as big as the occasional volcanic eruption, billowed up into the sky.

“Well, that just happened,” Rainbow said, but deep in her heart, she felt respect for the savage country she now traveled in. Savage, and always ready to throw an adventure her way, she hoped.

Spike scrambled up from his awkward position on the ground. “I guess the land doesn’t like us that much.”

“Too bad,” Rainbow said. “We’ll just fly over it or something.”

The path led through a wide canyon, faced by an enormous cliff on either side. But now, with the face of one of the cliffs lying in ruin before them, higher than Twilight’s highest castle tower, they had to find another way past. Luckily, Rainbow Dash happened to be a pegasus, so they soon overcame the obstacle.

While Spike flew on Rainbow’s back, he stared, mouth agape, at the scene before his eyes. The canyon went on as far as his eyes could see. It looked as if the entire land realized that it wanted to grow higher, reaching for the sky and creating a giant plateau. Even though the dragons hated groundlings, the path still led right through the plateau, dividing it into two enormous pieces. Now that Spike thought about it, it could also be just a dried-up river, and not an intentional path, which would take a century to carve through the plateau. Suddenly, Spike became struck with an odd feeling. The revulsion he had felt earlier had to share its spot in Spike’s heart with a feeling of… amazement. Spike was a dragon, after all, and as much as he felt at home in Ponyville, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of homecoming here too.

They landed on the other side of the avalanche, but Spike didn’t jump off Rainbow’s back. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Rainbow Dash said after waiting half a minute. “I’m not gonna carry you all the way, you know?”

Spike’s eyes were still wide, and he didn’t move.

“Hey, Spike!” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof in front of the dragon’s slit eyes, but they didn’t follow it. Rainbow breathed in deep. “YO! SPIKE!”

With a jolt, Spike returned to the here and now. He tumbled backwards over Dash’s flank and into the dust.

Quickly the dragon scrambled up. “I’m ok, I’m ok. I’m just… eh… admiring the scenery.”

Rainbow Dash knew what he was talking about, even though she had seen landscapes from an aerial view many times before, she too realized that these lands were quite unique. Perhaps the land itself was the only thing really adventurous about their quest.

Dash stepped over and extended her tail to the dragon. Spike grabbed it, and with an easy flick of the rainbow tail, he was back on his feet again. “Thanks.”

“We gotta move,” Rainbow said. “I guess we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Spike couldn’t help but agree, and with the picture of the beautiful landscape still in his head, he hurried after Rainbow Dash.

For a long time, the path kept cutting through the canyon, looking almost like a giant hallway, open to the sky. As they walked through it, Spike walking with echoing footsteps and Rainbow Dash hovering above the ground, Rainbow Dash began to feel… strange. Being flanked by the immense canyon faces on either side, to Rainbow Dash it looked like the path became narrower and narrower, and that the walls were closing in. Of course Rainbow Dash preferred open ground and windswept, grassy fields, and she never really felt good being indoors for too long—a trait which many pegasi shared. But now, uneasiness snuck up from her back to her head, and Rainbow Dash turned her head to glance behind her shoulder.

Spike saw her looking. “Hey, are you ok, Rainbow Dash? Is there another avalanche behind us?”

“No…” Rainbow Dash said, her voice no longer grumpy or strong, but unsure. “I don’t know…”

But then she recomposed herself, and shook her head. “I’m alright. Let’s go.”

Spike shrugged, and they marched on.

But that cold, creeping feeling of uneasiness didn’t leave Dash with a shake of her head. It stayed with her, clinging to her hide and nesting itself in Rainbow’s head, plucking her nerves like guitar strings. She tried to find some distraction by focusing on the terrain, but the copper walls of the canyon just stretched out forever before her eyes, and her eyes lost a bit of their shine.

Then she looked down at Spike. His step was slow but steady. Slow, perhaps, of the mixed feelings he had about these lands. Rainbow Dash wondered whether Spike felt what she felt.

But Spike didn’t. In fact, the purple dragon was finally sure about the direction they went. He remembered this enormous canyon from the last visit. During the coronation of princess Ember, thousands of dragons had lined the path they were walking now, eager to catch a glimpse of their controversial female Dragon-Lord. The path was indeed an ancient river, which had made its way through the soft rock of the plateau. It had been a whooshing, terribly wild river, which had sprouted from the meltwater from the land’s biggest volcano: the Gauntlet of Fire, back when it was still a mountain covered with snow. During those ancient times, not many dragons inhabited the region, and most of them had already forgotten what it was like so long ago. Princess Ember had told the whole story to Spike, as he had been at her side on the high throne, carried by four of the strongest dragons towards the Castle of the Dragon-Lords, where she received a beautiful crown on her head, in addition to the Bloodstone Scepter.

So in the past, the river had meandered as it reached the plateau, cutting out a whole natural labyrinth of hollows, canyons, and caves. And right in the middle of this maze of copper rocks was the capital city of the dragons: Ember Falls.

So Spike bore a confident smile on his face, hoping secretly to stay alone until he would be standing in front of princess Ember’s throne. “We’re going the right way,” Spike said. “Maybe a few more miles, and then we’ll be in Ember Falls.”

But Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening, or if she was, she wasn’t giving the impression. Her head was once more turned in the opposite direction, eyes squinted.

In the minutes that followed, Rainbow Dash glanced behind her back four more times. Then she couldn’t stand it anymore, and decided that she needed some real distraction. A random question would do. “Why is it called Ember Falls?”

Spike looked at his flying companion. Apparently, she had been listening. “The capital city of the dragons is called after the reigning Dragon-Lord, and, as I told you before, princess Ember now rules the dragon tribes, so the city has her name.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said, although she wasn’t really listening. She’d partly managed to chase the strange, haunting feeling away, but not entirely. She looked behind herself once more, saw nothing, and decided to try something else. She began thinking about potential adventures here in this foreign and hostile land. The lust for danger and excitement quickly grabbed hold of Dash’s mind, as she started fantasizing about legendary treasures, aerial fights, hidden temples, enormous winged monsters, and scary caves. Her wishful thinking produced a smile on her dry lips, albeit a tiny one.

“Why are you smiling?” Spike said.

“Oh, just thinking about something awesome,” Rainbow answered. After one more plunge in her fantasies, she said, “I wonder what it’s like to fight a dragon. Maybe we’ll encounter one of those brutes and get a hold of its sweet treasure. What do you think?”

Spike frowned. “Well, first of all, we’re not all greedy, hoarding brutes, Rainbow Dash. And secondly, I don’t think—and don’t hope—that we’ll actually have to fight.”

Rainbow sighed. “Too bad. I would have loved to get back on Garble for teasing you. That bully deserves a meeting with my hooves!”

But Spike hesitated. “Maybe… but I would still like to solve this quest with words, rather than with bucks. I think that will be a lot easier too.”

“Well, what is your plan then, Mister Pacifist?”

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash, I’ve got it all figured out. As soon as we reach the city, we’ll proceed to the Castle of the Dragon-Lords, talk to princess Ember, make the dragons forge the parts, and then return to Ponyville. Simple as pie.”

Rainbow Dash made a face as if she was about to throw up. “Ugh, talking? Those creatures aren’t made to talk. They’re made to fight and pillage and plunder. That’s how I read about them in ‘Daring Do and the Dragons’ Domain.’”

“Then your book is wrong,” Spike said, crossing his claws. “Dragons can be very polite and… and beautiful. I’m sure much has changed since princess Ember is on the throne. Maybe she’ll have taught all of them to accept ponies.”

“Or to eat with a knife and fork,” Rainbow snickered.

“Like your table manners are fit for a five-star restaurant,” Spike countered.

To that, Rainbow Dash had nothing to say, and looked once more behind herself.

They continued their way, with the ever-present canyon walls accompanying them on the left and the right. The soil started to become a bit more sturdy, as the dust and sand made way for hardened clay. Spike wondered if they were getting closer to Ember Falls. But Rainbow Dash, although she would never admit it, longed for the city even more; or a wider space anyway. The walls started to close in on them—or so it looked like to Dash—and the echoes became duller and duller. Perhaps the giant walls weren’t really closing in on them, but the passage was definitely getting narrower. After another quick peek behind herself, Rainbow Dash, her eyes ever to the sky, saw that the normally straight and unbroken edges of the cliffs were at some places chipped. It looked like a giant dragon had come to nibble at the rocks on either side of the cliffs. When Rainbow looked down again, she saw many rocks and rubble piled up against the walls. With a shrug, she concluded that it would probably have been avalanches. Better to be quiet for a while, she thought. Looking back, she saw once again nothing.

Another mile slipped away beneath their hooves and toes, and the canyon walls grew more battered by the yard. At some points, there were brave little shrubs which had taken a hold on the rocks and had rooted themselves in the rocky soil. Both travelers wondered about the toughness of the plants. The occasional splashes of green were a welcome distraction from the oppressing, red rocks and enormous cliffs, leaning over them as if to observe these two strange inhabitants—or actually one strange inhabitant. But for Rainbow Dash, it wasn’t enough; she still felt like a cornered prey. After another peek, her silent prayers were finally heard. When she turned her head forward again, she saw an intersection.

It was hard to discern the crossroads from the monotonous, copper canyon walls, but thanks to the changing shadows, cast by the ever-present sun, they identified the obstacle.

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash,” Spike said. “It’s just a sideway passage, but I know where to go. We just have to go straight ahead.”

But Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening. Her keen senses, always needed and developed during her flights, were tingling. She swished her tail a couple of times, but the feeling didn’t go away.

Suddenly, when they were almost standing in the middle of the crossroads, Rainbow Dash stuck out a front hoof. “Stop.”

Spike looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Rainbow Dash landed on the ground. “I don’t know, Spike. Something feels… off.”

Now Spike looked behind as well, but saw nothing. “Are you sure it isn’t just your imagination?”

Rainbow Dash primed her ears, turning them in all directions. She couldn’t hear anything. Or maybe there was something. The distant sound of a falling rock? With eyes trained to match eagles’ during a flight, Rainbow Dash scanned the horizon. The top of the cliffs. Left. Right. Behind.

Nothing.

“Shall we go on, Rainbow Dash?” Spike said, tugging at her mane. “I think we’re really close now.”

But Rainbow’s eyes didn’t stop checking. Her investigation ended with Spike.

“I’m gonna do one more aerial swoop, Spike.”

“Dammit!”

Rainbow’s eyebrow shot up. “What did you say?”

But Spike hadn’t said a thing, and certainly not that hissed curse. Up ahead, from the left and the right, there was movement. In a cloud of soot, a band of dragons emerged from seemingly nowhere, as if they materialized from the canyon walls. To the left and the right, some more jumped from behind the fallen rubble.

There was a click, and then Rainbow Dash retracted a wing with a cry. A single blue feather dwindled to the ground.

Dash’s head snapped around, and then she saw a dragon she knew painfully well.

“Garble!”

There he was, the red, teenage-dragon, standing a couple of yards behind. His piercing yellow eyes spit venom, and he brandished a crossbow in his claws.

“Hold it right there pony, or my next shot will be—“

But Garble wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Rainbow Dash shot through the air in a trail of rainbow colors. Before Garble could finish talking, realize what was going on, or reload his crossbow, the pegasus hit him square in the chest with her head. Both creatures tumbled to the ground.

Garble’s crossbow flew far away. Dash and Garble rolled and wrestled in the red dust. Despite feeling as if the collision had robbed him of the ability to breathe, Garble shouted an order. “Get that purple runt!”

With a shock Rainbow realized he was talking about Spike. That realization cost her her position on top of the dragon, and the roles were reversed.

“Spike! RUN!”

But Spike had nowhere to run. From all sides, massive dragons closed in on him, crossbows ready, swords waving, claws gleaming in the sunlight. He could do nothing but take steps back, right towards his only chance at safety; Rainbow Dash.

But Rainbow Dash had her hooves full with Garble. She bucked, punched, bit, and whipped her tail, but the resistance was strong. Every hit Garble countered twice as hard. He was simply too strong for her, despite all of Dash’s intensive training. She had never been trained in ground combat anyway.

With a sudden jump, Rainbow Dash stood upright, turned around, and bucked as hard as she could. She felt her hooves hit something hard, and the kinetic energy backfired on her. She tried again, but this time, her hooves lingered in the air.

Garble took hold of Rainbow’s back legs, lifted her off the ground, and twirled around. After two full circles, he let go, and Rainbow Dash sailed through the air, right against the cave wall.

A crash resounded in Dash’s ear, which might have been produced by the bash against the rock or the bash against her bones. Dash slid down, tried to stand up, fell through her knees. She couldn’t stand. She had to resort to ground techniques again.

With a flap of her wings, she launched herself towards Garble, intending to do the same move she did—only this time, she didn’t have the element of surprise.

Garble caught her head, but the force was bigger than he’d expected. Apparently, Dash still had some grit in her. Garble tried to use his tail to stay upright, but his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground once more, but making sure that he was on top this time.

Dash wrapped her tail around Garble’s legs, and, together with a shove, managed to roll him over. When she looked up, she only needed a second to see what trouble Spike was in.

With a savage head-butt, she stunned Garble for a split-second, and rolled away.

“That’s it. We’re outta here, Spike!”

Rainbow Dash jumped to her hooves, flapped her wings, and swooped over in the direction of Spike. Before the dragon had time to see her coming, Rainbow Dash grabbed him in her front hooves, then tossed him on her back. He landed the wrong way, and grabbed hold of Dash’s tail, holding on for dear life.

The ground disappeared beneath Spike’s nose, and he could have seen it, had he opened his eyes. The dragons on the ground became smaller and smaller. Rainbow Dash didn’t look back. She knew that dragons were great flyers as well, but they were also big and clumsy. Pegasi were way more aerodynamic. She had no doubt she could outfly the dragons.

But the dragons weren’t planning a pursuit.

Another order was barked, unintelligible against the wild winds flowing past the flying creatures’ ears.

A clinking sound stabbed through the skies, and Rainbow Dash felt something hit her.

A chain came wriggling through the air like a snake, and wrapped itself around Rainbow’s barrel and her wings.

With a cry of pain, Rainbow felt the cold metal against her hide. It became harder and harder to breathe, as the chain continued to twirl around her. Spike pulled at the other end of the metal snake, but it was no use.

Rainbow Dash’s whole body jerked backwards, as the dragon on the ground gave a violent tug against the chain. With a loud smack that cracked the clay itself, Rainbow Dash smashed down upon the path. She felt a shockwave of pain race through her whole body. Her consciousness struggled to stay with her. In a hollow echo, she heard the roaring laughter of two dozen dragons all around her.

Spike rolled off Dash’s back, flopping head-over-tail through the dirt. Finally, he stopped, landing right at the feet of his old enemy, Garble.

Garble gave out a loud snicker, and grabbed Spike by the tail between his thumb and index finger. He looked at him as if he’d found a piece of dirty trash littering the path.

“Look who we have here,” Garble said, his voice pounding against Spike’s ears. “If it isn’t Spike, the dragon rookie, and his puny little pony friends. You know, when Shinedown here signaled that there were unusual intruders in my kingdom, I expected to see anything but you.” He looked down at the blue pegasus, still lying in the dust with rolling eyes. “And least of all a pony.”

One dragon, silver as the cold moonlight, with light-blue wings as thin as a piece of silk, shuffled on his feet. He made a shallow bow.

But Spike wasn’t about to give away his dignity that easily. Despite feeling the fear claw at his nerves, he began to swing. He grabbed Garble’s scaled arm with his claws, keeping himself level, and met the red dragon’s gaze. “What do you mean with your kingdom?”

Garble let out another snicker. “Hehehe! You picked a bad time to come here, little runt. Time’s changed. The Dragons Lands finally have a REAL leader, a STRONG leader. A leader one-hundred percent pure dragon, living by the dragon code.”

Many heavy voices produced a gurgling cheer. Some dragons belched a gout of flame in the air.

“But… but what about princess—“

“But… but what about princess Ember,” Garble finished for Spike, imitating his high-pitched voice mingled with a mocking smile. “Well, princess Ember has been removed; her throne has been returned to its rightful owner: ME!”

Garble let go of Spike, who tumbled to the ground. As quickly as he could, Spike scrambled back up, coughing a few ashy clouds. “B-b-but princess Ember would never allow you randomly ambushing us.”

“Haven’t you been listening, boulder-for-brains?” Garble knocked Spike twice on the head with a sharp claw. “Ember’s gone. Forever. Her father has been banished, and the Bloodstone Scepter is MINE.”

The moment Garble spoke those words, the red stone, set in an crystal bound scepter, sprang into view. Garble had put it on his back, but now brandished it in his empty fist. It shimmered and shone like a fire, as if the stone itself wanted to amplify and clarify the dragon’s words.

Spike held up a claw to protect his eyes from the sudden glow. “But-but—“

“No more buts!” Garble roared, swinging the Bloodstone Scepter back between his wings. “It’s about time you give ME some answers. What are you doing here in the Dragon Lands? And why were you stupid enough to bring a pony along?”

At the word ‘pony,’ Garble looked at Rainbow Dash. She had scrambled up. But, covered in bruises and scrapes, and with a nasty red score wrapping around her barrel, she frowned at the dragon, doing her best to give him her nastiest, most hostile glare. “I’m a pegasus!”

Garble walked closer to Dash, until his shadow covered the pegasus entirely. “It doesn’t matter what you are! You’re still weak and puny, and an intruder in my kingdom. Now explain yourself!” Then Garble twirled around, as if he were doing a dance, and whipped Dash across the head with his red tail.

Dash felt another gout of pain, and her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. With a nasty gurgle, she tossed a droplet of spittle right before the dragon’s feet. Dash couldn’t see whether it was red, or whether it became red as it mingled with the copper dust.

In Garble’s head, a bomb exploded. He turned around, whipping Dash across the head once more, and made his way towards a couple of rocks, his footsteps leaving deep marks in the path. “Why… does… everything… have… to be… so HARD!” And with every word, Garble pounded against an enormous rock. With the last word, the thing cracked and split in two, littering the path with a small avalanche.

Then Garble looked down, as the rage streamed away with the crumbles of the tortured rock. Thoughts flowed inside his head, thoughts fueled by rage and frustration. He imagined the punishment he wanted to give these two intruders, but the lingering cloud of rage prevented any concrete plans.

Then, a particularly big dragon, half muscle and half fat, walked over towards Garble. “Eh… dragon-lord Garble, may I suggest returning to Garble Gorge with the intruders?”

With a jerk of his head, Garble came to his senses. His eyes narrowed, and a grim smile revealed a line of jagged, yellowed teeth. “Yes, let’s do that. Let’s put them on trial. Or maybe we should torture them to find out some more.” Garble closed his eyes in delight. “Oh yes! That would be great. Good idea, Boulder Bash.” He gave the brute a slap on his massive shoulders, and despite his stature, the big dragon let out a cough. “And you know, my dear Boulder Bash, because you suggested that wonderful idea, you may carry that crumpled little pony over there while we return. That seems like a fair reward, doesn’t it?”

Boulder Bash was about to say ‘no,’ as common sense would dictate. But he knew his lord long enough to know that both the question tag and the ‘may’ were entirely rhetorical. The anger, suppressed into a thin-glassed bottle, streamed from Garble’s words. “Certainly, sir,” Boulder Bash said, and moved towards the blue pegasus after a quick salute.

“Then it’s settled,” Garble called. “We’re going back home boys! Grab your stuff and move your asses. We’re getting out of these badlands!”

The dragons stirred. Some walked away to grab a pack or some weapons they had tossed to the ground. Others were already up in the sky, hovering above the ground in a somewhat orderly formation, waiting for the command of their lord.

“No! We’re not flying,” Garble shouted towards the few dragons which were up in the sky already.

“Why not?” said the silver dragon Garble had called Shinedown.

Garble turned around as if a mosquito had stung him; a very strong mosquito able to penetrate his lava-hardened dragon scales. He moved closer to the thin dragon as if he were taking a leisurely walk in the park. When he stood toe-to-toe with Shinedown, he grabbed his thin neck and jerked, until his eyes were at the same level as Garble’s. “First of all, it’s ‘why not, DRAGON-LORD GARBLE!’”

Shinedown let out a gurgle. A few blue cinders escaped his mouth.

“Secondly, you don’t question my orders!”

Shinedown’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“And thirdly—“Garble let go of his victim, who flopped to the ground—“because I want to walk. I want to walk and think about their trial and their punishment. And I can’t think clearly with my head in the clouds. Understood?”

The heap of silver dragon on the ground muttered something that sounded like a ‘yes.’

“Very good.” Garble crossed his claws. “Then, as a reward for clearing my head, you get to carry that pony-loving purple traitor over there. Sounds good?”

Shinedown nodded his head; what else could he do?

“Very well.” Garble turned around and scanned the dragon regiment. But soon he became tired, and shouted the name of the dragon he wanted to present himself right before him as quickly as it could. “Chain Link! Get over here!”

A rustle, carried by deep voices, went through the group of dragons. A minute later, they stepped aside, almost reverently, to make way for Chain Link. He was as black as a dark cave, covered in a mesh made of the tiniest iron rings. He bore no weapons, but over his shoulders, around his neck, and out of his pack, stuck maybe two dozen shiny chains—or perhaps it was one long chain. A hood was cast over his head, revealing nothing but a single, pale-white eye. Apparently, Garble respected this peculiar dragon as much as the rest, as he didn’t ask the creature to remove his hood or to bow. Slowly the creature shuffled closer until Garble could look underneath the hood. There he stood, motionless.

“Chain Link, I need two chains, two locks, and no keys.”

Chain Link let out a hiss, which melted together with the clinking sound of his mail and the chains on his back. With seemingly no effort at all, he reached behind his back and pulled out the items Garble had asked for. He handed them to the red dragon in a thin, black claw, as cold and merciless as the chains he wore. “Take good care of them.”

Garble produced something that could be counted as a smile, and said, “Naturally.”

Then Chain Link turned around and disappeared into the crowd of dragons.

A minute later, Spike and Rainbow Dash were hanging in a very uncomfortable position; Rainbow Dash on Boulder Bash’s back, and Spike on Shinedown’s. Then, with a last roared order of Garble the Dragon-Lord, they started moving.

* *

They marched in somewhat orderly rows. The longer dragons, able to make much bigger strides, walked in front, while the stubbier, sturdier dragons trotted behind. That way, it almost looked as if there was a pecking order, although Rainbow Dash and Spike couldn’t be sure. Luckily, Boulder Bash and Shinedown walked next to each other, so Rainbow Dash and Spike could exchange glances and make an attempt at sign language using their eyes and mouthing the words. Perhaps Shinedown and Boulder Bash were friends, but Rainbow Dash and Spike, dangling upside-down like two sacks of potatoes, didn’t care nor think about that.

Rainbow Dash felt the blood rising up to her head, but it actually felt good. A few moments later, she felt some activity return to her brains. She felt something heavy around her waist, and saw that it was a fine, silvery chain wrapped around her wings. Trying to wriggle them, without expecting to free them, Rainbow Dash shuffled a bit, but to her astonishment, she couldn’t even feel her wings on her back. Determined not to lose hope, she looked left and right.

Between the legs and wings of the other dragons, the canyon walls still flanked them on either side. Rainbow Dash felt the rough, muddy scales of her driver scraping against her hide with every step the dragon took, and the stench of sweat accompanied him and her.

But Spike wasn’t really any better off. He too dangled upside-down, his arms pressed against his chest underneath a shiny metal chain.

Rainbow Dash tried to make eye-contact with Spike, but a big, orange dragon stepped beside Boulder Bash and blocked her view. With her senses and savvy slowly returning in a wave of consciousness, Rainbow Dash frowned and looked around at her enemies.

The dragon-army filled the canyon with the rumbling sound of heavy, stomping feet and growling voices. The high notes of this symphony were formed by the clatter of steel weapons and the constant clinking of armor. There were dragons of every shape and size, but they all shared the same glare, a glare turned into an ever-present scowl—perhaps against the biting ash in the winds—but adorned with a certain kind of satisfaction. It looked as if they were genuinely happy to have caught the intruders and served their Dragon-Lord. A cruel kind of contentment.

They were all wearing the same armor, Rainbow Dash could see that. Although the shapes and sizes sometimes differed to match the dragon’s stature, the colors were all the same: red and yellow. Dash saw a variety of weapons: crossbows, swords, maces, clubs, daggers, spears, halberds, and probably many more tools of killing. It looked as if no two dragons had the same weapon. The only things they shared were their scowls and the red-and-yellow from their armor. Dash realized that they were the same colors as Garble’s scales and skin—what else could it be?

After a few more miles, the dragons visibly started to get bored. A few looked around, making sure that their lord wasn’t in sight, and pulled out a scrap of meat or a flask to nourish their needs, and eat the time away. A few miles further, they began to talk in deep, gurgling voices—and so did Dash’s and Spike’s carriers.

“Yo! Bash!”

Shinedown gave the orange dragon beside him a shove, and then he walked beside Boulder Bash.

“What is it?” the fat dragon growled.

Shinedown looked at the ground for a split second. “You… eh… You weren’t half-bad with that rock-avalanche you made back there. You know, after I signaled you, I saw you doing it and… well…”

“If you wanna say something, just say it, damn you!”

Both Shinedown and Spike winced at the sudden roar. “Alright, alright. I was just wondering whether or not you could teach me how to do that. You know, making rock-avalanches. That way, I’m an even more effective signaler, when I can use both something loud and something shiny.”

To that, Boulder Bash let out a gurgle, which ended in a mocking laugh. “You?! No way, whelp. Start doing some push-ups first, and then we’ll talk.”

Shinedown snorted. A small blue flame escaped through his nostrils. He didn’t say anything, but continued to walk beside the brutal Boulder Bash. Despite the rudeness of the dragon, he still wanted some distraction from the long miles, and he couldn’t think of any other dragon whom he could talk to. Stuttering, he started another sentence.

“S-s-so what do you think? How soon until Garble gets to Meteor?”

Boulder Bash turned his big, round head before he looked at Shinedown again. “Shut up! You know Garble doesn’t like it when you speak about his… private business.” He tried his best speak in a hushed tone, but to Rainbow Dash on his back, it still felt like shouting.

“I know, I know. Just curious,” Shinedown said.

“Curious? My ass. I guess you just wanna make a bet!”

That word was like gold to the silver dragon’s ears. His eyes sparkled. “W-w-would you like that? To make a bet?”

Bash scoffed. “With you?! Ain’t gonna happen. I know how broke you are, and I bet you still owe all of these dragons here a fair share of silver.”

Shinedown made a little jump, and smacked his claws on Boulder Bash’s maw; they barely covered half of it. “Hush! Would you like to get me killed or something?”

“Maybe,” Bash said, swatting away Shinedown’s claws as if they were pesky flies.

“Well, do you want to start a fight? I’m sure Garbl—eh, Dragon-Lord Garble wouldn’t approve of that.”

Boulder Bash grunted, and Shinedown produced a sly smile, as if he had won this battle of words. “Still I’m curious how far he’s gotten already,” he said. “I mean, just imagine what we could do with something—or someone—like Meteor.”

“Yeah, perhaps he will pay your debts, or perhaps you’ll have a new gambling buddy.”

“Will you just shut up!”

“Maybe.”

Shinedown sighed. “I just hope some action will happen. You know, when we get to him, we can start conquering again, just like the old times. And in the meantime, I’ll collect a great big hoard from all the folks we’ve vanquished. Perhaps I’ll even be able to fight my way to the upper ranks. Maybe, by the end of the Meteor Conquest, I’ll be a general—or an admiral!”

“Yeah, sure,” Boulder Bash said. “I just hope those ‘vanquished folks’ are tasty, I’m bloody hungry.”

Shinedown produced a sound which would be something between a snicker and a scoff, but secretly, he hoped the same.

And all the while, Rainbow Dash and Spike listened, and they looked at each other, both with raised eyebrows.

“What are they talking about?” Spike hissed to Dash.

Then Shinedown pulled hard at Spike’s tail, flinging him over his shoulder and into his outstretched claws. “We’re talking about WAR! And you shouldn’t be talking at all! You’ll see what happens soon enough, as the rest of the world burns in a hungry flame of pure arcane dragon-fire!”

There was a cold, harsh gleam in Shinedown’s eyes, and they chilled Spike’s heart. He couldn’t find the courage to speak, but he didn’t have to. With a flick of his wrist, Shinedown slung Spike back over his shoulder.

“Why do you always have to talk as if you’re a nerdy-ass fantasy figure,” Boulder Bash said.

“Well, because we are dragons, so we are fantasy figures,” Shinedown retorted. Once again, that grin of satisfaction curled on his lips, and his tiny but many teeth shone in the red light.

Bash averted his gaze. “Well, I’m not,” he mumbled. “You shouldn’t play so many of those stupid card games, Shinedown. They make you weak and speak weirdly.”

“Ha! You just don’t know how to take a loss, my dear Boulder Bash!”

Boulder Bash grunted once more. This was the third time Shinedown had outwitted him. Time to change subject. “I hope Garble gives them what they deserve,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and forcing Rainbow Dash into a little swing.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You know how creative Dragon-Lord Garble can be. Do you remember old Sawtooth, the thief?”

“Hehe, yeah.” Boulder bash said with a chuckle, the cruelty dripping through the sound. “There wasn’t much left after the Dragon-Lord was done with him.”

Shinedown clapped his claws together. “And what about Searing?”

“I couldn’t stop laughing at him.” The massive shoulders of Boulder Bash rocked up and down with another burst of laughter. Rainbow Dash felt like her tail was about to tear off. “I loved the look on his face, you know, at the end, when he realized that his fire-proofness was waning. He certainly proved worthy of his name.”

“Yeah, he melted right to the ground. Who would have thought dragon-fire could become that hot? Even I couldn’t.”

Now, a tiny smile broke through Boulder Bash’s infinite scowl, fueled by cruel memories. “Hey, Shinedown, do you remember Hot Spot?”

“Oh, definitely. Chain Link was amazing with him. I’ve never ever in my life seen a dragon do such a thing. The way he moved those chains, it was like they were alive! I’m sure Hot Spot was amazed as well when he saw who his executioner was—although not happily amazed like us.”

Boulder Bash grinned, both at the memory, but also at the tinkling of the chains and the soft trembling of the rainbow tail he clutched in his big, fat claw.

Then, Shinedown suddenly felt silent, and he looked over his shoulder twice before speaking again. “Or, Garble might just do the same thing he did with Ember.”

With the mention of that name, Spike felt a mental cannon go off. Instantly, his senses were primed to record every word the dragons would say. But at the same time, he felt fear bubble up inside of him. Not fear for himself and what they might do to him, but fear for the fate of princess Ember.

“Nah. Or maybe… I dunno. Would he really be that cruel? Boulder Bash said.

“You saw the way he looked at that purple runt on my back? That was pure hatred flowing out of his eyes like a bright, hot lava-fall. I’m sure he’s going to do it.”

B-b-but what has he done with Ember? Spike thought, and almost spoke his thoughts aloud.

Boulder Bash rolled his eyes at once another one of Shinedown’s dramatic choices of words. But then he fell silent as well. His voice now became genuinely soft. “Think she’s still alive?”

Shinedown shrugged. “Probably not. She’s been off the grid for a while. You saw it yourself, she just disappeared. Poof! Garble called the end of the game, and he only does that when the contestant is dead. He didn’t sense her presence anymore after the eruption I guess. That’s why he called it a day.”

Both Rainbow Dash and Spike stirred. Spike felt like crying. Princess Ember, whom he had helped and who had helped him. Together they had entered the Gauntlet of Fire to retrieve the Bloodstone Scepter. He had given the thing to Ember and made her Dragon-Lady that way, even teaching her the value of friendship during their ordeal. And now she was dead? What the hay happened in this Celestia-forsaken land?!

“Well, if Garble’s going to do that, I won’t stop him,” Shinedown said. “I’m sure we’ll be in for a show, whatever his choice will be.”

And with that, the conversation between the dragons had ended, as they both agreed on the last sentence. They shifted their loads into a more comfortable position—comfortable for them—and marched on, just like the rest of the dragon-army.

As they progressed, Rainbow Dash and Spike looked at each other’s desperate faces. They knew by the looks in their eyes that they thought the same things. What had happened with Ember? If what the dragons said was true, she would be the second friend they’d lost in the past days. Then, despite their own bad situation, their thoughts went back to Fluttershy. What dangerous things she must be going through, and how scared she must be.

Rainbow Dash frowned. They had to get out of here—fast. But, with Garble at reign, how in Equestria were they going to get the dragons to make the metal parts for the machine? Rainbow Dash did her best to shove the questions aside and return to the here and now. She only let thoughts of escaping fill her head, and a thousand plans started swirling through it… and then shattered. In this position, there was nothing either she or Spike could do. Nevertheless, her senses were primed, and thanks to that, she noticed a few things.

The otherwise red canyon walls were gradually changing colors. At first they were copper like the metal itself, but now they became more and more dark, until they were completely clad in grey and black colors, almost like iron and ash. But not only the environment and the view transformed—so did the atmosphere. It became hotter. With every footstep the dragon-army took, the air seemed to become more hostile on Dash’s throat. It was as if she stepped inside a sauna at the Ponyville spa, except that this heat wasn’t revitalizing or comfortable. This heat was oppressing, and somehow felt hostile. Sweat began beading off Dash’s forehead and onto the greying soil.

The clay path had become really hard now, and covered with blankets of fine black ash. Every step the dragons took made the sound of a breaking vase, as the hardened clay surrendered to their heavy feet. Rainbow Dash coughed with every small cloud of swirling ash, stirred up by the dragon’s march, and lingering like a mist over the path. Rainbow Dash had been through a lot of tough times and tougher training-programs, especially since she had been enlisted as a Wonderbolt, but for the first time in many years, the pegasus wasn’t sure how long she could stand this horrible march.

Luckily for Dash, she didn’t need to suffer much longer. Just as she thought that the heat would ignite her tail, the canyon walls retreated on either side, making way for their destination: Ember Falls, or, as Garble had renamed it: Garble Gorge.

The second name was actually more appropriate for the capital city, as it was deep, very deep. The road dived down and down again into a volcanic crater, long ago collapsed, hardened, and extinguished. But that didn’t stop the dragons from making it a nice and hot place, just the way they liked it. From the edges of the craters, red and orange tongues of lava streamed down into the city like white-hot waterfalls. Using a web-like network of aqueducts, the streams were channeled until they converged in the middle of the volcanic crater, feeding it like a giant, white-hot lake, and making it look as if the thing was still alive and seething.

The whole city was covered by a giant black cloud, cladding it into a permanent state of dusk. Not entirely night, as the brave red sun proved to be able to penetrate the thick blanket at some spots, casting blood-red beams of light over the buildings of the city.

Spike saw it too. He looked up (or actually down) and saw the iron-bound gate above them. But to him, it looked quite differently from the first time he saw it. The first time, it had been adorned with beautiful crystals, set in a shining arc of silver. Now, the silver was blackened and worn, and a set of dark onyx stones and blood-red rubies took the place of the multi-colored façade of gemstones. At the top, there was the letter ‘G,’ adorned with the same kinds of stones.

“Ah! Finally home!” said Boulder Bash. “I can’t wait to get back to my spouse. She’d better have cooked something delicious and tasty!”

Shinedown gave him a glance. “Why are you always thinking about food?”

Bash shrugged. “Why not?”

And with that, the conversation ended, as Shinedown silently agreed.

They marched underneath the gate and down the heavily-sloping path into the crater. To Rainbow Dash, the heat became unbearable, and she had to close her eyes because she had the feeling they would dry out in mere seconds. Spike, on the other hand, took the opportunity to look around. Partly to see what more had changed in the city, and partly to try to remember the way back. His second mission, however, soon failed; the route the army took through the streets was simply too complicated.

The outer ring of the city consisted of the living quarters and houses of the dragon population. Many stone houses, all crudely square in stature, flanked them on the left and the right. They were carved out of the sides of the volcano themselves, as dragons generally didn’t like building things. Destroying things was more their style, and many had found it fun to smash away the stones to create their own houses. But despite that, some houses were made of bricks; usually the houses of wealthier dragons who could afford a stonemason.

It wasn’t every day that a large army of dragons marched through these streets, even though it became more and more common to see cohorts head out into the wilderness for combat training. Nevertheless, many doors creaked open to reveal the curious inhabitants. Dragons of all shapes and sizes, not clad in armor, but still big and strong. Mothers, fathers, children; some dragons even decided to stand on the roofs of their houses to look at the awe-inspiring parade. Spike looked at their faces. Some were cheering and happy, but others bore heavier expressions: concern or worry—some even shook their heads and retreated back inside. Apparently not every dragon is fond of their new leader, Spike thought.

They passed streets and squares, markets and shops, ever descending in a spiral, closer and closer to the core of the city: the lava pool. Rainbow Dash couldn’t stand the heat anymore, and fainted. Boulder Bash felt the pony going limp, and almost let her slip through his sausage-like fingers, but he managed to squeeze them tighter just in time.

Marching quite close to the quay of the giant lava-filled lake, Spike saw the many stonemasons, smiths, metalworkers, and jewelers at work in their shops. Despite their new leader, the central hub of dragon trade and craftsmanship was still metal and stonework, the workshops positioned as closely to their most important tool as they could be: heat. The lava-pool was the secret of the dragon’s forged ware quality; a secret they were quite proud of themselves. Even though there were so many different shops, which were supposed to make all kinds of different tools, statues, and pieces of jewelry, Spike couldn’t help but notice how many blades were being sharpened, how many sets of armor were being pieced together, and how many bows were being strung. The reign of Garble had clearly produced an impulse to a very lucrative sector in the metalworking business.

After another mile, they began to climb again. Spike knew they would almost be at their destination: the Castle of the Dragon-Lords. And soon enough, the enormous steel towers and spires came into view. Long ago built out of the first ore by the first dragon, it loomed over the city, not entirely at the top of the volcano crater and not entirely at the bottom. No houses stood anywhere near the castle, as if the intimidating looks of it had scared the lesser buildings away.

They stopped at the gate, which opened with an ominous rattle, and then stepped inside, swallowed whole by the shadows cast by the enormous metal walls.

Garble barked an order; the cohort was being dismissed. With grunts and sighs, the dragons walked to the left and the right, probably to the storage rooms to get rid of their equipment. Only Shinedown and Boulder Bash continued walking behind their lord with their captives on their backs.

The courtyard was small, and they soon entered the castle itself. Spike’s eyes had to get used to the dark at first, so he couldn’t see exactly what it looked like. But his memories told him that there were supposed to be bright-orange carpets, cobblestone walls, and many beautiful pieces of glasswork: statues and windows alike. There should also have been golden chandeliers, but apparently they were taken away. Maybe this part of the castle wasn’t used very often.

Suddenly, Garble’s voice stabbed through the darkness.

“I’m still not sure what to do with you two, my little friends,” he said, his voice eerily calm and friendly, as if he were a hotel desk-clerk. “Perhaps I’ll figure it out tonight; perhaps I’ll figure it out tomorrow at the trial, or perhaps I’ll let your punishment depend on what you can tell me about your presence here. Perhaps I’ll let someone else decide that stuff for me. Think about it. In the meantime, enjoy your stay.”

With a spit, Garble ignited a torch, and they began circling down a set of stairs. It was probably a tower, as the walls were narrow and claustrophobic to the mind.

As they continued descending into the bowels of the castle, burrowed deep inside the extinguished volcano, the air became cooler and more comfortable with every step, and Rainbow Dash felt herself slip back into the present world. She couldn’t see anything, and the only sounds were the scraping of claws upon stone and the nasty breath of the dragons.

A door opened.

“Alright, there we are,” Garble said, and placed his torch in a holder on the wall

Dash and Spike heard a rusty creak, and then they were thrown inside the cage, waiting and ready for them. The dragons didn’t even take the effort to unwind their chains, so they couldn’t break their fall and rolled over each other on the floor.

“Very good, men,” Garble said to the two dragons, and gave each a pat on the back, too hard to be friendly, and too soft to smack them to the ground. “I hereby forgive your stupid question, Shinedown, and I hereby acknowledge your good council, Boulder Bash. DISMISSED!”

And as Garble’s cry echoed through the dungeons out the door, so did Shinedown and Boulder Bash. But Garble stayed behind a little longer. He turned around on his heels, almost giddy, then spit out a flame which he held in his claw. Stepping closer to the bars, he held the flame high, so it illuminated his face in a bright-red glow. He looked first at Spike, and then at Rainbow Dash, who scrambled up from the ground.

“I hope you find here everything you need,” Garble said. “No windows, I’m afraid, but there is a bale of hay you can sit on… or which you can eat.” Garble let out a snicker. “I have thought of everything here. Now you be good until tomorrow, alright? Tomorrow, you’ll be in for some action and adventure!”

With another gurgling laugh, he turned around and headed through the door, leaving Spike and Rainbow Dash alone in the darkness.

Despite Dash’s head being groggy from the heat and the extended blood-pressure, she still had a thought swirling in her mind. Ironically, she realized that Garble really had thought of everything. He had given her exactly what she wanted: action, adventure, and even a fight.

Chapter eight: teleportation revelation

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After digging through a mountain of paper and ink, Fluttershy finally found the head of the wizard.

“Radagast,” she said, gently stroking his long, grey hair with a hoof, “are you awake?”

With a jolt, the wizard bolted upright; paper sailed across the room. “Awake?! Awake! Awake the magic and—” but then he looked down at Fluttershy, who had sprang away. “Oh, it’s you, Fluttershy. I’m sorry to scare you. According to my rabbits, I seem to do that a lot after long and extensive midnight research. Excuse me.”

“It’s alright, Radagast,” Fluttershy said, feeling her heartbeat calm down. “Perhaps Twilight does that as well. Now that I think of it, I’m sure she does.”

Radagast chuckled. “Well, then I’m glad I’m not the only one in the multiverse.”

Now Fluttershy laughed as well; a warm, gentle laugh that filled Radagast’s heart with energy. “Shall we get breakfast?” he said.

Fluttershy nodded, but Radagast was already in the kitchen.

They had a merry and relaxing breakfast, silently enjoying the bounties of the Greenwood and Radagast’s gardens. When they both set aside their plates with a content glow in their bellies, Fluttershy looked at the wizard through her big, blue eyes. “Radagast, did you figure out the spell? When are we leaving?”

Radagast dabbed his mouth with a napkin, making sure to clean his beard as well. “Well, I have been busy last night, as you can see, and I have come a long way already. There’s just a few more books I’ll have to bury myself in, and then I’ll put the icing on the cake.” Radagast glanced at a nearby bookshelf at his collection of ancient tomes. “I think we’ll leave tonight. Tonight is better anyway, because elven magic is often fueled by moonlight and starlight. But I’ll have to study really hard, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy nodded. She reckoned she could wait until night. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Radagast?”

“I’m afraid not, Fluttershy. Even if you would be a unicorn, I still think the magic would be too different. But that’s ok. You can… You can…” Then he clapped his hands together and smiled. “Why don’t you go outside and play with my animal friends? You’ve already made good friends with Alexander, and I’m certain the rest of my animals would like to meet you to. I reckon they will be very curious about your appearance these past days.”

Despite the giddiness of the wizard, Fluttershy looked at the ground. “Are you sure they’ll like me? Maybe they’re afraid of me. You said the animals of the Greenwood are different from the ones in Equestria, didn’t you?”

But Radagast waved Fluttershy’s words away with his hand. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, little Fluttershy. The animals in Rhosgobel are far from hostile. As I’ve said, they are willing to make the magical connection between master and pet. Perhaps you will be able to speak to them as well.”

“But… But…”

Then, with a tweet, Alexander the robin came flying out of an unseen hollow in the wood and landed on Fluttershy’s empty plate.

“You see,” Radagast said, “Alexander can’t wait. I bet he would love to introduce you to his friends. Now, off you go!”

Alexander flapped his wings, and retreated through a slit in the window of the front door. With hesitant steps, Fluttershy slid off her chair and did a few steps towards the door, where a ray of sunlight streamed through the little window.

“Radagast, are you sure there aren’t any—“

“Yes, yes, there are no predators.” Radagast stood up from his chair, opened the door, and shoved Fluttershy outside. “Now you have fun,” he said with a smile as bright as the sunlight, and then he closed the door.

* *

Fluttershy looked behind, as if she wanted to hurry back inside, but a sharp sound resounded in her ear; next to it flew the little red robin. He made a small circle through the air, and then landed right on top of Fluttershy’s nose. It tickled, and Fluttershy couldn’t help but laugh. She looked at the little robin, and for a moment, her crossed eyes looked much like Derpy’s.

“You remind me so much of one of my own animals, you know?” Fluttershy said.

But at the movement of her lips, Alexander had trouble keeping his balance. He pecked Fluttershy twice on the nose, and it almost looked as if the bird was frowning.

“Oh, excuse me,” Fluttershy said, and stuck out a hoof, on which Alexander hopped with a flap of his wings. He looked Fluttershy once more into the eyes, pecked her hoof, and let out three high tweets.

“You’re right,” Fluttershy said. “I shouldn’t be so bashful. You know what? I would love to meet your friends.”

Alexander bent through his knees chirped in delight, then he flew up into the air and disappeared behind Rhosgobel.

“Not so fast!” Fluttershy said, and trotted after him.

* *

Radagast quickly cleared the table and stacked the plates and cups in some forgotten corner; the dishes would come later, because he had a spell to prepare. Not even bothering to wipe the crumbles off the table, Radagast gathered his books and spread them out before him. Then he began hunting for his scraps of paper, which were still lying all across the room, and organized them.

“I should have written page-numbers,” Radagast muttered, as he fumbled with the paper.

He was already pretty close to finishing the spell, Radagast saw, as he flipped through the pages. There were a few of them with circles; the outer rings of the magical focal point he would carve out of the tree. With wrinkles above his brow, Radagast began thinking about the inner rings, what they would have to look like, and which words would have to be written on them. He reached out, and grabbed a book with a purple, richly decorated circle on it and opened it. This was going to take a while.

* *

In the meantime, Fluttershy had followed Alexander to the back of Rhosgobel, and discovered that the back wall of the cottage was adorned with birdhouses in every shape and size. Alexander flew off Fluttershy’s back and into one of the wooden birdhouses.

Under a chorus of tweets and chirps, birds flew in and out of their houses. Some carried worms, berries or other food, while others had little sticks and leaves in their beaks, ready to make their houses even more comfortable. They sailed through the air, carried by the gentle breeze of morning air. There were all kinds of birds: swallows, robins, blackbirds, jays, chickadees, and even two peregrine falcons on a large shelter on top of Rhosgobel. Fluttershy looked at their coming and going, and a warm smile appeared on her lips.

Back in Ponyville, Fluttershy had a lot of birdhouses herself, where she often helped the little critters making their nests or mend injured wings. Sometimes, when she was in a cheerful mood, Fluttershy would gather up all of her birds, and teach them how to sing beautiful songs like an orchestra, which she then directed with a branch in her hooves.

Suddenly, the head of Alexander appeared through the hole of his birdhouse, followed by two other robins. All of them then jumped out of their miniature cottages to circle around Fluttershy’s head.

“Hello, there. Nice to meet you. Are you friends of Alexander’s?”

The birds let out a tweet; one a high tweet, the other a low tweet, and Alexander himself somewhere between that. After a few circles, they landed on an oak branch, sprouting from an impressive, golden tree, not too high from the ground. There, they tweeted once more, but not in unison. One after the other they sang, and the sounds they made converged into a funny melody that echoed across the clearing.

Fluttershy gasped. “You can sing! I mean… you can sing like me!”

With a few flaps of her wings, Fluttershy was hovering before the three robins on the branch, who looked at her with black eyes radiating pride. It was as if they said: ‘You didn’t expect that, did you?’

Fluttershy made a mental note to ask Radagast about this. Perhaps he had taught his birds to sing as well. She could easily imagine that.

Then an idea popped up into her mind. She looked at the birdhouse-speckled wall, and then back at the three robins; a smile flashed across her lips.

“Alright, everybirdie, let’s have some fun.”

* *

Inside Rhosgobel, Radagast was still busy scribbling and drawing beside an ever-growing pile of notes. His tongue hung out of his mouth as he sat hunched over yet another drawing he tried to copy from the book on magical circles. With a hand as steady as a marksman’s, he crept over the parchment with his quill, slowly, until he reached the beginning of the circle, finishing the picture.

With a sigh of relief, Radagast placed his quill back in the inkpot and leaned back in his seat. With a gaze of contentment he looked at the drawing in his hands.

“Alright, that should do the trick.”

This had been the third time he had drawn the circle on the paper, and only this time had he been truly satisfied. Radagast knew that even the tiniest difference and the smallest detail mattered more than a mortal’s mind could think of. Even if someone who wasn’t magical would look at Radagast’s magical circle, he or she would still think of it as an amazing piece of art. Circles swirled up and over each other, only to converge in the end and form an infinite snake of lines. Every patch of free space was filled with mysterious symbols, and sometimes letters in the elven language; words so ancient that some elves had probably even forgotten about them. There was color too; green and brown delivering a stark contrast against a blue background. Radagast was not going to paint the whole circle during the preparations of the spell, however, but he was going to use colored powder and sand to get the colors right. He just hoped that Fluttershy wouldn’t sneeze.

Radagast looked up at the roof, without seeing anything. He thought of the things he still had to do. He had completed the focal point of the spell; the magical circle. Next would be the incantation; the words which would call the magical energy to the place where he wanted it to come. But before Radagast was going to open his books once more, he allowed himself a moment of rest, just to get his thoughts in line again and summon his concentration. Eyes closed, the wizard leaned further back and stretched his arms.

“I guess I’m a little out of shape,” he said, as he wriggled his writing-hand to get rid of the cramp.

He tried to think of something else, as he noticed that his mind didn’t want to rest. With a smile, Radagast wondered what Fluttershy would be up to, and if she would have had the opportunity to meet all of his animals.

Then a familiar sound reached Radagast’s ears, penetrating the wooden walls and flowing through the half-open window into the cabin; the sound of birds singing.

Radagast closed his eyes and let the beautiful, familiar sound fill the room and stroke his ears. But then he noticed that something was off. Radagast knew which birds lived in Rhosgobel. He knew them all by name, and of course, he knew what songs they sang in which season. Songs to impress, songs to warn, songs to intimidate, and songs to teach their children. Of course, sometimes they sang all together, which made it hard for Radagast to pick out the individual sounds through the cacophony of bird’s voices. But now, Radagast heard that they sang all together as well, but it wasn’t at all a tangle of sounds; it almost sounded like a song.

The bigger jays and crows provided a catchy bassline, while smaller birds like chickadees and sparrows interweaved a funny little melody. It almost sounded as if they were singing like humans in a choir, but lighter and brighter.

Then, Radagast suddenly opened his eyes, as he heard words drift on the sounds and make the song complete; it was Fluttershy’s voice.

With a jolt, Radagast jumped off his chair, and walked over to the window before opening it and sticking his head out and into the garden. There, he saw something he would never forget.

Seated on a low branch, right next to each other, were his birds—every bird. They were sorted by height, and the bigger creatures sat to the right, while the smaller ones were on the left. Opposite of the branch, with her back to Rhosgobel, hovered Fluttershy. She held a branch in her hooves, and waved it up and down through the air ever so gently, accompanying her bird ensemble in finding the right tones. On her shoulder sat Alexander, who sang merrily along.

It was as if Fluttershy’s voice was made for singing. Her tones and words were so soft, that they melted the air around. It was as if the air became overjoyed, and cooperated in carrying the beautiful sound as far as it could. Hanging over the windowsill, Radagast looked at the show, but even more so than looking, he listened.

What a strange new world I’m flung into

With many creatures never seen

Oddly colored plants and birds

Whose names are foreign, sharp and keen

But luckily this feels like home,

Rhosgobel filled with creatures and

With Radagast the wizard brown

I’ve made myself a brand-new friend

Sing, my birds, sing

With every note you bring,

You make me feel some more at home

In the book Lord of the Ring

How wonderful the Greenwood looks,

Red and gold in midday light

Shining flora and fauna rich

I wonder what it’s like tonight

Sing, my birds, sing

With every note you bring,

You make me feel some more at home

In the book Lord of the Ring

But soon it’s time to say goodbye

I hope he’ll understand

I don’t belong in Middle Earth

Equestria’s my land

Sing, my birds, sing

With every note you bring,

You make me feel some more at home

In the book Lord of the Ring

Sing, birdies, sing

With every note you bring,

You make me feel some more at home

For me a new beginning

The song came to an end, and the last wonderful echoes of Fluttershy’s voice drifted gently on the wind to other ears. Slowly, careful enough so Fluttershy wouldn’t see him, Radagast closed the window and turned back to his work. He still felt the tones and words flow through his mind, and he knew at that moment, that he would never forget them. He wanted to grab a piece of paper and write the lyrics of the song down, but found that no paper would be suitable for such beautiful sounds; no ink would be good enough to capture the letters. With a sigh, laden with delight at his experience, but sadness at its end, Radagast grabbed his books again.

He felt revitalized, as if the sounds and notes of the song filled him with determination. Radagast noticed how his hand was steadier, and his mind clearer like a meltwater stream, filled with thoughts. While he started writing down more elvish words and sentences to construct the incantation, Radagast’s mind was already far ahead, at the spell he would perform tonight.

What if he succeeded? Then Fluttershy would be back in her own world, with her own kind. But then Radagast would probably never see her again. Of course he wanted to help the young pegasus, but on the other hand, she was no longer the scared little horse he had found in the woods. She was playing, enjoying the weather and his company—and the same could be said for Radagast. With a sudden jolt which made his quill scratch in an odd direction, Radagast realized that he would lose her. Of course he still had all of his animal friends once Fluttershy would be safely back home; Radagast would definitely not be lonely. But she was special. Not only would Radagast like to learn more about her, her world, and her abilities, but he would also like to have her around because… they were friends. Never before had Radagast met a creature, man or elf, which resonated so much with his inner self. Never before had he met someone—or somepony—who shared the same passion, vision, and appreciation of life. Never before…

Should… should I ask her? Radagast’s own thoughts stuttered as the possibility emerged through the fog of his thoughts. Should I ask if she wants to stay in Rhosgobel? Could… could I do that?

Deep in his heart, Radagast wanted to. But he also realized that it would be Fluttershy’s own choice, and a hard one at that. And of course, she had a duty back home; to be the element of kindness and care for the animals of Ponyville. But… couldn’t another pony do that? Surely there had to be other ponies—perhaps even more magical than Fluttershy—who could do that.

Radagast’s mind boggled with these questions and assumptions. Suddenly he slammed a fist on the table, making the ink spill over his parchment.

No.

First one thing, then another. Radagast forced himself to concentrate. First he would make the spell complete, and then he would ask Fluttershy the question… maybe… perhaps... He grabbed another inkpot, a freshly sharpened quill, and sat down again. Minutes later, the only sound filling Rhosgobel was the rapid scribbling of quill on paper.

* *

“Thank you all very much, my little birdies,” Fluttershy said. “It has been lovely, but I don’t want to keep you off your daily work.”

The birds chittered and tweeted back in an indistinguishable cacophony of sounds. Fluttershy could only hear scraps of sentences.

“Oh, I know some of you would like to sing more, but I need all of you to form the complete orchestra. A song without bass notes is like a pegasus without wings.”

To that, some birds nodded and flew away. Others bent their knees and tilted their heads, looking at Fluttershy with big, black, pleading eyes. But soon they saw that their orchestra conductor was resolute, and instead jumped off the branch to land in Fluttershy’s mane and on her head.

Fluttershy chuckled at the feeling of dozens of twig-like bird feet. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t have made the orchestra without you, after all.”

But the birds didn’t agree, and rubbed their feathery heads against Fluttershy’s hide. Some pecked her softly, as if they kissed the pegasus in a gesture of gratitude.

“Thank you all so very much,” Fluttershy said, stroking some birds in her hooves. “But I don’t want to keep you from your work. I’ve got many other animal friends to meet here in Rhosgobel.”

Some of the birds nodded in agreement, and fluttered away. After a quick peck or a hug, the other birds followed suit. Only Alexander the robin stayed with Fluttershy, balancing on her hoof.

Fluttershy patted the little bird on the head. “So who’s next?”

Alexander let out a high chirp, and flew off towards the other side of Rhosgobel.

Fluttershy followed, trotting over the sunlit grass. She had to look for Alexander a couple of times, but then a tweet of the little bird pointed her in the right direction. A minute later, Fluttershy stopped before a small chicken-pen, leaning against the cottage next to the gardens.

Alexander flew in circles above the brown, puffy chickens, which looked lazy and content in the bright midday sun. Fluttershy walked closer, approaching slowly as not to scare away the chickens. She herself had often helped sick chickens at Applejack’s farm, and she knew which language they spoke.

Alexander landed on a pole, and waved one wing towards the chicken pens.

“Hello there, little chickens,” Fluttershy said. “How are you doing today?”

For a few seconds, a couple of nearby chickens stopped pecking at the ground and looked at Fluttershy. But then they continued their hunt for breadcrumbs.

“My name is Fluttershy, did Radagast give you names as well?”

This time, the chickens didn’t even look at her.

Is my chicken-dialect that rusty? Fluttershy thought. She decided to try something else, and scooted closer to the nettings. “Would you like to have some more breadcrumbs? I can ask Radagast to give me some.”

What animal wouldn’t like an early brunch on such a beautiful morning? But the chickens didn’t react; they merely started to dig with their legs into the ground.

Fluttershy sighed. “Maybe it’s another kind of language?”

Suddenly, a big, proud rooster climbed out of the little wooden cabin into the pen. He marched like a soldier down the plank, shook his big red comb, and walked straight towards Fluttershy.

“Ah, good,” Fluttershy said, as she reckoned the leader of the chickens might perhaps speak her language. “Mister rooster, can you help me? I’m trying to make friends with your hens, and I was wondering if you could be my translator—eh… if you’re not too busy, that is.”

But the rooster diverted his gaze. It looked as if he was looking straight through the pegasus in front of him, even though he had probably never seen such a strange animal before.

Fluttershy crouched down, until she was beak-to muzzle with the rooster. “Eh, Mister Rooster, I would be very grateful if—“

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!”

The rooster let out a cry and began to run around in circles, rounding up his hens. In a zipping ball of feathers, the animal shot through the pen, making sure to gather all the chickens and directing them towards the little wooden cabin, where the hens retreated in with many confuses squawks.

With a jolt, Fluttershy stood upright. “That wasn’t very polite,” she said, as she rubbed one ear with a hoof, as it still rang from the sudden outcry. Fluttershy looked around and stuck out a hoof, on which Alexander landed. “Did I say something wrong?”

But Alexander shook his head.

The sound of footsteps, rustling on the fallen leaves, traveled on the wind and shot into Fluttershy’s ear. She turned around, but then she froze into place.

In front of her, barely ten feet away, stood a big, grey, hairy wolf. Its tongue hung out of its open mouth, lined with yellowed, jagged teeth. It looked a bit like a timber-wolf, but bigger, much bigger. It wasn’t made of wood, of course, but stood there in flesh and blood; it didn’t look any more friendly than the dangerous timber-wolves Fluttershy had encountered before. The creature looked at Fluttershy with bright yellow eyes, and Fluttershy could only guess the thoughts that went behind them.

But that wasn’t right; wolves are nocturnal.

As Fluttershy stood there, filled with adrenaline, that thought somehow managed to break through the walls of panic. She felt petrified, turned to stone by the wolf’s gleaming eyes.

“Are you a chicken?”

Fluttershy’s mouth felt dry. It tried to form words, but she couldn’t speak.

“Well, are you?”

The wolf spoke to her. But the fear was still tightly wrapped around her heart. Fluttershy could take off, fly away, get to Radagast, to safety. But with a flash, Fluttershy realized that the beast was probably after Radagast’s chickens. Even though she was scared, Fluttershy wasn’t about to let that happen. But despite that, she still didn’t know what to say to this monster.

The wolf waved its thick, furry tail, and Fluttershy saw that a good portion of the tip was missing. A dark wound marked the edges of his tail, but the wound wasn’t bleeding. The creature did a step closer. It was limping badly, and Fluttershy spotted a similar wound on its hind leg, which seemed to let out tendrils of smoke.

“C-can… c-c-can… Can you understand me?” It was the best Fluttershy could come up with at the moment.

“A big yellow chicken… that speaks?” The wolf stopped in his tracks, looked down, and let out a growl. “I didn’t realize things were that bad… The order is so weird…” Then he looked at his tail. “Blast it, I’ll get help somewhere else.”

And before Fluttershy could say anything more, the wolf bolted back into the forest where it came from.

A minute passed; Fluttershy still stood rooted at the same spot. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. A predator, normally ever so frightful and self-sufficient, had spoken to her; had established the connection of his own free will.

Alexander came swooping in from the top of Rhosgobel. He landed right in front of Fluttershy and hopped from one leg to the other. Seeing no reaction from his friend, he tilted his head and gave out a loud, high-pitched tweet.

Still no reaction.

The bird flapped its wings, landed on top of Fluttershy’s muzzle, and pecked.

“Ouch!” Fluttershy called. With a shake of her head, she was back in the conscious world.

The robin hopped onto the ground, and began shaking its head wildly, muttering a chorus of tweets and chirps.

Slowly, Fluttershy came back to her senses and looked down at the robin. “Of course, we should tell Radagast.”

They trotted towards the door, knocked, entered. For a split-second, Fluttershy became amazed at the giant pile of paper before Radagast, but then she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the wizard. “Radagast!”

Radagast was just in the middle of a sentence, and finished it before dipping his quill in the inkpot. Then, he turned around and looked at Fluttershy. By the look on her face, he could tell that something was wrong.

Then Fluttershy told him about the encounter with the wolf, her legs still shaking as she recounted the tale. Radagast nodded and occasionally raised his eyebrows as he listened; it was quite an odd tale.

“So you’re sure he spoke to you?” Radagast said when Fluttershy had finished. “Are you very sure he did? It might also have been your fear playing tricks on your mind.”

“No, he really talked to me,” Fluttershy said, knees buckling as she recalled the hoarse, grim voice.

“Hmm…” Radagast removed his reading glasses and twirled them around in his fingers. “You said the creature was wounded, didn’t you? Maybe he was desperate for help. Maybe he wanted me to mend him, and was willing to make the connection between master and pet to convey his cry for help?"

That sounded logical. “Yes, maybe. He had two nasty-looking wounds. I’m pretty sure one of them was still smoking.”

“Smoking?” Radagast put his glasses carefully down on the pile of books. “That’s strange. I haven’t sensed a forest fire anywhere in the Greenwood.”

“Oh.”

“Perhaps he came from other lands.” But Radagast knew that was a long shot, as the Greenwood was big and housed many wolves.

Then, Fluttershy looked at the ground, and rubbed one foreleg against the other. “Can… can I stay indoors with you, Radagast?”

When Radagast saw Fluttershy like that, the picture of the scared, stressed pony he’d encountered in the Greenwood on that stormy day came back to him. It pained his heart to see her that way. “Of course,” Radagast said. “Don’t you think about that beast anymore. Maybe the wolf will come back, and if he does, I will help him, but I will make sure he behaves when he does.”

Fluttershy nodded, and sat down on the ground. Alexander flew up and landed on Fluttershy’s hoof, determined to keep her company.

But despite the matter of the wolf fading from the conversation, it didn’t leave Radagast’s thoughts. He wondered what brought a predator to Rhosgobel, why he didn’t accept his fate as many wounded predators normally did. Did the wolf need help so badly? Did he not want to accept his injury or his death? And those last words of the beast, what could they mean? ‘I didn’t realize that things were that bad…’

But then Radagast grabbed his quill again; he would think about this later. Right now, he had other important things to do.

And so they sat, Radagast studying, and Fluttershy waiting and playing. The pegasus listened to the scratches of the wizard’s quill on the parchment, and the occasional muttered thought. Sometimes, Fluttershy stood up and made some tea for her and Radagast, but even as the wizard sipped his cup, his eyes never left the work he was writing. From time to time, Fluttershy would take a peek at Radagast’s notes and books, and couldn’t help but be impressed at the things that were written on the parchment. The ancient symbols looked beautiful, and the elvish script even so. Fluttershy listened to Radagast, doing her best to sift some understandable words from the ancient incantations, but failed miserably. Elvish magic was quite different from the magic in Equestria, Fluttershy thought.

The day went by, and dusk fell over the Greenwood. Owls hooted and flew up from the trees, ready for a nightly hunt, together with the foxes and bats. Daytime creatures began searching for a comfortable hideout to sleep through the night, comforted by the protection Rhosgobel offered them. The trees were still awake, and rustled amongst each other, perhaps discussing the amazing clarity of the night, and the sky full of cheerful stars.

Just when Fluttershy thought that the pile of notes would fall down onto the ground, Radagast put his quill back in the inkpot and looked at Fluttershy with a smile on his face.

“Done?”

“Done.”

* *

Even though the vibrant red and golden trees had to surrender their colors to the fading light of the incoming night, they still looked alive and impressive. The moon shone brightly overhead, penetrating the roof of leaves at some places to cast gloomy beams of light upon the forest floor. Oaks and birches flashed by on either side, their leaves whispering unintelligible words in the nightly air. Radagast and Fluttershy zipped through the forest, holding on tightly to the bars on Radagast’s sled, while the rabbits did their best to go as fast as they could. Fluttershy held on to either side of the sled using her wings, and Radagast looked ahead, as he tried to remember exactly where he wanted to go.

“So what are we looking for?” Fluttershy called from behind.

“A tree,” Radagast said. “It is a sacred oak tree, standing in the middle of a clearing. We should be able to spot it above the leaf-crowns of the ordinary trees.”

But Fluttershy reckoned that finding one tree in a forest full of other trees had to be difficult. They had been traveling for an hour or so, and Radagast had said that they should be near.

The sled skidded over the dead leaves on the forest floor, casting aside shrubs and bouncing over rocks. They reached a hill, which the rabbits climbed with an unimaginable, collective strength, before plunging down into valley filled with oaks.

“I think we’re almost there,” Radagast said. “Could you fly into the air and look if you can see it?”

Fluttershy waited until she saw a gap in the roof of leaves. When one appeared, she jumped into the air and flapped her wings, disappearing through the gap and into the beam of moonlight. From high up in the air, Fluttershy felt a stronger breeze through her mane, and saw a sea of green instead of a sky of green. Trees… trees… trees… But there, about a mile further, Fluttershy could see the contours of an enormous trunk, adorned with a leaf-crown covering half of it. The giant looked a bit like a dark mushroom, painted on a black canvas illuminated by the silver moonlight. She couldn’t see if it was an oak, but she had the feeling it was the tree they had been looking for.

With a few flaps of her wings, Fluttershy fell into a glide. As silent as a rustling breeze, she glided over the tops of the trees, until she saw Radagast’s sled. She looked for a gap once more, dived, and landed on the back of the sled. She struggled not to lose her balance, grabbing hold of the sled with both wings. “Go to the right, Radagast, we’re almost there.”

“Gee, gee,” Radagast said, and then the sled veered off to the right, splashing straight through a shallow stream.

The land became increasingly flat. Where before there had been the occasional hill or depression in the land, now grassy fields and patches of oak trees took their place. The land became opener, the gaps in the green roof more frequent, until Fluttershy could look up and gaze at the silvery stars in the night sky. Were stars in Equestria that shiny too?

The rabbits accelerated, feeling the lay of the land cooperate underneath their feet. They crossed one more large grassy field, waving in the wind like a sea of green, before they reached the trees again.

But they didn’t have to toil through the dense shrubs and vegetation for long, because suddenly the trees retreated, as if something had scared them away. There was a clearing, a large one, with in the middle one massive, golden oak tree.

Fluttershy gasped at the sight. Never before had she seen such an extraordinary tree. Not in Ponyville, not in the Everfree Forest, not anywhere. The trunk of the tree shone a pale gold in the moonlight, its bark looking as if it was plated with precious metals. A few of its roots were shallow, and stuck out of the ground like snakes as thick as tree-trunks.

“Whoa, whoa!” Radagast called, and the sled skidded to a halt before one of the massive roots.

But Fluttershy wasn’t able to jump off, wasn’t able to move. She couldn’t stop looking at the massive tree.

Radagast scrambled off the sled, and flung a heavy backpack over his shoulder. From a nifty constructed holder, he grabbed his staff; the crystal shone in the moonlight. Then he looked over to his companion. “Shall we go, Fluttershy?” Radagast said.

Fluttershy’s eyes didn’t leave the tree. “Yes,” she said, but her voice was distant.

Radagast let her be, and marched closer to the massive trunk, at least five times the diameter of Ponyville’s town square. He made sure not to step into the shadow, and instead stopped right before it, his small stature making the tree look even more gigantic. He raised his hands, and gripped his staff tightly in both of them. Feeling the magic practically dripping off the air, Radagast had no trouble at all channeling it. He lowered his head, and for a second, the blue gem in his staff glowed like the moonlight itself. Then Radagast thrust his staff down, hitting a root of the tree with the bottom. Behind him, another gasp came from Fluttershy at the spectacle before her eyes.

Light as pale as the stars started gleaming through the leaves of the tree, spiraling up and around the golden trunk. When Fluttershy looked closer, she saw that they were actually little lanterns, illuminating a walkway which snaked around the tree like branches of ivy.

Radagast looked back at the pegasus and flashed a smile. “Are you ready?”

Without a word, Fluttershy followed the wizard, not taking her eyes off of the lantern-lit lightshow.

With every step they took, the view became more beautiful. It didn’t take them long to rise above the leaf-crowns of other trees, making them look pitiful and unimportant beside the giant oak. Moths began to gather at the lights as Radagast and Fluttershy climbed on. Sometimes, there was a porch, revealing a hollowed-out room inside the tree-trunk. Some of those rooms were bigger than Twilight’s throne room, Fluttershy saw, and many had decorated furnishings.

“This is where the elves gathered to practice their magic,” Radagast said. “Although it has long been abandoned, sometimes elves return to practice their arts. Maybe they do it out of nostalgia, to dig up ancient memories of times long by.”

With those words, Fluttershy looked again at the occasional rooms. Indeed, she saw that the artwork was often overgrown with moss or broken. The chairs, tables, and bookcases looked weathered, the books eaten by moths. But still Fluttershy had no trouble imagining elves inside the room, elves seated on the ground, while one of them explains the usage of magic and shows off his most awe-inspiring magical spells, only for the others to try and copy them.

“Why did they leave?” Fluttershy asked.

Radagast leaned on his staff, as if the memories weighed heavily on his mind. “Many elves retreated to their land of origin: the Undying Lands. Many elves feel homesick, although they will never show it to anyone. Sometimes that feeling of homesickness becomes too much for them to bear, which I can imagine if one lives forever. Then they have no desire to stay in Middle Earth and leave. Throughout the years, elves have become more and more scarce, and the few that still live here prefer to keep to themselves and their traditions, and rarely show themselves to outsiders.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said; she was not sure what to say.

They climbed on. Radagast and Fluttershy continued to follow the stairs, which buried them deeper and deeper into the enormous leaf-crown. In the blue light of the lanterns, Fluttershy saw that the tree was still green, delivering a stark contrast against the red-and-gold hidden in the nightly darkness. Fluttershy found it quite odd; it was autumn after all.

“It absorbs and feeds itself with the flow of magic,” Radagast said when Fluttershy asked about it. “It doesn’t need to shed its summer coat.”

Fluttershy nodded, and wondered whether this tree would be something like the Tree of Harmony, which probably did the same thing, as it grew in a cave and never needed sunlight or water.

After another bend of the stairs, the lanterns illuminated the end of the walkway. Radagast stopped.

They stood still before yet another porch, this one decorated more than the others with swirling symbols of interweaved vines and leaves, unique yet still in harmony with the tree itself. Radagast motioned for them to go inside. The first thing Fluttershy noticed were the leaves that covered the wooden floor. When she looked up, Fluttershy saw that they had reached the top of the tree, and above them there was the leaf-crown of the gigantic oak. An occasional ray of moonlight streamed through the living roof, giving the whole spot a ghostly appearance.

This was it; this was the spot. Fluttershy felt a shiver go through her body. Whether it was the cold, high wind, the excitement, or the ambiance of the spot, she couldn’t guess.

But Radagast seemed undaunted, and immediately set to work. He slung his backpack off his shoulder, took out a piece of white chalk, and started to draw upon the floor.

He got the whole circle right the first try, as he knew he would, because he had studied the symbols for a long time back in Rhosgobel. He finished the circle, sprinkled the colored powder into place, and scribbled down the elvish incantations, while Fluttershy watched with undying interest.

“Fluttershy,” Radagast said. His tone was so serious it startled the pegasus. “I want you to sit in the middle of the circle—right in the middle. Sit very still and don’t talk, that is really important.”

Fluttershy nodded, and felt her heart racing. This was it; this was the moment. She flapped her wings, and slowly hovered over to the middle of the circle, grabbing her long tail in her hooves to prevent it from sweeping away the chalk or the colors. She landed, and looked at the wizard, who was busy finding the right notes.

Radagast pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled full from top to bottom with text. Then another, and then a few more. He laid them next to each other on the wood, putting small branches on the edges to prevent them from blowing away. Then he reached once more into his backpack, pulling out five objects: a golden ring, a balance, a branch with green leaves, a string of daisies, and a rattle.

Fluttershy wanted to ask the wizard what those were for, as they looked as if they had nothing in common, but she remained silent so that Radagast could concentrate.

“This is an idea I thought of myself,” Radagast said, guessing Fluttershy’s thoughts. “They represent the elements of harmony, as you described them. The golden ring stands for loyalty, as it is an ancient wedding ring, worn by a great king of men. The balance stands for honesty and fair judgement, although I’m sad to see it go; I’ll have to ask Gandalf to bring me a new one.” Radagast shook his head. “Anyway, the next object is this branch of the great tree we’re standing in. It represents magic, as the magical energy of the tree flows in all its branches and leaves. This branch I’ve kept for a long time, and it has never withered, therefore I know for certain that the magic is still potent and present.”

Fluttershy nodded as the wizard began placing all of the objects into the circle, each one at a different spot.

“For the element of generosity I have this necklace. A few of my bird-friends, who have long since flown to other regions, gave it to me after I helped them through a particularly strict winter.” Radagast laid it down behind Fluttershy, and then pulled out the rattle. With a swing of his wrist, he let it spin, and the noise echoed through the hollow tree trunk. Radagast chuckled. “I guess I don’t have to tell you which element the rattle stands for.”

Despite the nerves, Fluttershy managed a slim smile too.

Radagast placed the rattle to the right of Fluttershy, adjusted it, and then stepped back to observe his work. He nodded. Done and done. But that was just the easy part…

The wizard stepped behind his pieces of paper and grabbed his staff. But he didn’t sit down yet. Turning his staff around in his fingers, he looked at the ground, as if he was unsure what to do next—but he knew all too well what to do next.

Finally, he looked up to meet Fluttershy’s gaze. Her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, and she looked as if she were waiting for her son or daughter to come back from school. Expectant. Eager. Ready. But maybe scared as well. Perhaps Radagast should say something to calm her down, but instead, he said something else.

“Fluttershy?”

“Yes? Is everything alright, Radagast?”

She saw it, of course she did. She saw that Radagast was struggling with something. She saw the doubt in his eyes, shining through those striking seas of blue which had seen so much.

Should I ask her…? Do I have the right to ask her…? Do I have the guts to ask her…?

Fluttershy tilted her head. “Did you forget something?”

Radagast felt as if he was torturing himself—but he was also torturing Fluttershy. She’s just so sweet, Radagast thought. She just wants to help me.

Fluttershy opened her mouth to speak, but Radagast cut her off.

“No.” Then he shook his head. “I mean… eh… I’m alright. I just wanted to say… eh… “

“Say it, for forest’s sake! Ask her if she wouldn’t rather want to stay.”

“Goodbye… Goodbye, Fluttershy.”

The waver in Radagast’s voice made Fluttershy swallow back some tears. Radagast had been so good for her. He had helped her, fed her, given her a roof over her head. He had given her many new animal friends. They had laughed, talked, whispered, shared their lives. But above all, the wizard had given Fluttershy the most beautiful gift of all: friendship. And now, it would be all over. They would both stop to exist except in each other’s minds and on paper.

“Goodbye, Radagast.” Fluttershy felt her voice deform with the emotions she felt; she couldn’t say anything more.

“Let’s get you back home, Fluttershy.”

“Alright,” Fluttershy said. She smiled at Radagast; it was the sweetest smile he had ever seen, but it pained him.

With a sigh, Radagast crouched down onto the ground, right in front of his papers. He sat on his knees, while his hands rested around the hilt of his staff. An uncomfortable position, but necessary. Everything was part of the spell—everything but his thoughts.

“Let us begin,” he said, more to himself than to Fluttershy.

Radagast closed his eyes; the first sentences of the incantation bubbled up from the bottom of his mind, and the words began flowing from his lips.

Inside the circle, Fluttershy felt a tingling sensation. But then she realized it wasn’t the magic, but goosebumps, sprouting on her hide like she had just stepped into an icy cold stream. She was afraid, she knew that. How could she not be? If this spell was anything like the teleportation machine Twilight had built, she was in for a show. Fluttershy tried to push the doubt away, and looked at Radagast, as she knew the figure of the wizard would put her mind at ease.

Suddenly, the blue lights of the tree flickered, as if there was a power-failure. Radagast had opened his eyes and looked straight at the top of his staff, still muttering words ancient and forgotten. The crystal embedded in his staff began to shine blue. It wasn’t the same color as the lanterns outside, for this blue wasn’t just empty light. This blue was something more. This blue had something in it. The blue looked alive.

Fluttershy looked at the staff as well, hypnotized by its shine. But her thoughts continued where they’d left off. She felt comfortable with Radagast. For the first time in days, Fluttershy realized that she would never see him again after tonight. After tonight, he would be gone, existing only as letters on a book page, barely a paragraph long. Of course she wanted to return to Equestria, as this world was still wild and unpredictable, but Radagast was her friend now too. Radagast…

The shine of the gem became brighter and brighter, to the point where it became painful to look at. But still both Fluttershy and Radagast looked at the light, as if there was nothing else in Middle Earth but that magical light.

Radagast felt the magic in the air. He felt the energy swirl all around. First in the branches and leaves of the tree, then in the air, and then in his staff. Mists of magical energy became visible, and filled the room in the blink of an eye. Pale blue—almost white—and amplified by the moonlight, the magic flowed across the room, spinning like a tornado, but slower, gentler, more subtle. The center of the magical haze was Fluttershy, who stood inside the circle with trembling legs.

Despite being non-magical, Fluttershy did see the tornado of light as well, and it frightened her. It didn’t look at all like the machine, though, and was definitely not that noisy. In fact, it sounded just like a strong wind through the leaf-crowns of trees. But still, Fluttershy felt afraid. She was like an outsider, standing on an island in the middle of a swirling mist, and just as nobody knows what is in the water before their feet, Fluttershy didn’t know what was happening in that tornado. The only thing she knew was that it was magical.

Radagast’s voice became louder, as he recited the lost words of the spell. He had to shout now to be heard over the whooshing of the swirling stream of magic, circling around the focal point. Suddenly, five bright lights popped up, as if someone had lit five different lanterns simultaneously. They weren’t lanterns which were glowing, however, but the objects Radagast had chosen. The ring lighted up a light blue, the balance orange, the branch became purple, the necklace white, and the rattle a light pink. Then, the colors left their objects, floated in the air, and started to circle around Fluttershy in the torrent of white-blue magic, bleeding the colors into the waves like paint on a canvas. It didn’t take long before Fluttershy lost sight of Radagast, no longer being able to peek through the transparent waves.

Panic struck her like the slap of a hoof, and she waved her tail restlessly. “Radagast!” she called out. The air absorbed all her words, as if she was trapped inside a bubble, and for all Fluttershy knew, she might as well be. “Radagast! Where are you!”

But the wizard could neither see nor hear her, and chanted his elvish words.

“Radagast!” Fluttershy screamed in a broken voice. “I’m so scared!”

If he wasn’t busy, Radagast would surely have told Fluttershy that that wasn’t necessary. He would have told her that in his high, calming voice, which sounded always ready to turn into a panicky one at a moment’s notice. But that was okay, because then Fluttershy could calm him. “Radagast!”

Despite his undying concentration, one thought slipped through: It’s working! Radagast could feel the magic connecting, fueled by his makeshift elements of harmony. He hadn’t been sure if they would do anything, but they did. It was working.

But it was tough. The magic flowed through Radagast’s body, through his staff, and he felt his energy drain. It was as if a constant stream of water flowed through his corporeal being; water with sand and pebbles in it, scraping against the riverbed which was his mind. Radagast knew that it would be heavy, a spell such as this one, but he had to hold on—for Fluttershy.

Inside the multicolored swirl of magical energy, Fluttershy snorted restlessly. She flung her head to the left and the right, as if she was looking for a way out; it was her fight or flight instinct, which had chosen to flee. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to stand still, and teleport back to Equestria. Equestria… The thought became projected on the magical, multicolored waves, and Fluttershy could see it; the land she came from—the world she came from. The colors mingled and swirled, until Fluttershy started to see familiar shapes and colors. She could see the cozy little houses of Ponyville, each crowned with a thatched roof. She could see Twilight’s Castle of Friendship right in the middle, a bright purple tree against the warm brown of the straw roofs. She could see the crystal hallways, winding everywhere they could. And finally, she saw her friends. They were looking down at her, almost like Fluttershy’s nightmare, where she’d seen many , many eyes gazing at her and through her into her very soul. But her friends’ eyes weren’t creepy; they were comfortable.

“Grit your teeth, Fluttershy, bite through this!” Rainbow Dash said, her voice harsh but encouraging, beaming with strength and support.

“I know you can,” Applejack said, “and I never lie.”

Rarity winked. “I believe in you, Fluttershy. A few more seconds, and then you’ll be back in your comfortable little cottage.”

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer appeared together, heads bowed low. It was only Twilight who spoke. “I’m really sorry I put you into so much trouble. Once you’re back, I can finally tell you how sorry I am.”

Fluttershy was just about to tell them that they shouldn’t feel bad, but then the image faded and Pinkie Pie jumped into view.

“Oh! That looks like fun! You have to show us so we can try that here in Equestria.”

Despite the fear clawing at Fluttershy’s nerves, she managed a smile, and the claws broke off for a moment. Sometimes, Pinkie’s ability to make other ponies laugh was just magical.

But then Fluttershy’s smile disappeared, as she saw something new spring into view. A new vision perhaps?

It was like a dark ball, bouncing through the torrent before circling along. The ball bounced once, twice, and then splattered like an ink stain through the colors. One by one, the dark stain blackened out the colorful hues, replacing them with its own light-devouring pigment. Bigger and bigger the ink stain became, until Fluttershy could see her own reflection in the dark, shiny color.

The light became dimmed. The crystal on Radagast’s staff faded. In mid-sentence, Radagast stopped the incantation and looked at the circle.

A black cylinder loomed over Fluttershy, and Radagast could no longer see her. Then, a single tendril of blackness shot out like an arm, and reached for the crystal on Radagast’s staff.

“No!”

“NO!”

Radagast broke the link, and he was no longer a part of the magical spell he was performing. Something wasn’t right. Something was very wrong. He had to stop this.

The arm pulled back, disappearing into the black mass, circling like an oily snake around Fluttershy. The light on Radagast’s staff now completely disappeared, and so did the light of the lanterns, the light of the moon, the light of the stars.

Radagast felt the air being sucked out of his mouth, as he gasped at the horrible sight. Suddenly, a spark swirled through the dark mass in front of him, growing into a fire only moments later. The fire spread, and ignited the oily mass, but not quite. The flames swirled together with the oil, forming a ragged, oval shape with a pupil as dark and infinite as the night sky.

The eye didn’t blink, nor did it move. While the flames and the oil kept circling with a terrifying speed, the eye remained still; a fiery eye frozen in place.

Fluttershy was still in there. Radagast had to do something. He gathered his wits, flung his arms apart, thought of the most powerful counter-spell he knew. The crystal at the tip of his staff flashed back to life, almost burning with a bright blue glow. Then Radagast’s arms came together, and he thrust his staff on the ground.

A halo of magical energy erupted from the tip of the staff. It struck the eye, chasing away the flames, but only for a second. In that second, Radagast could see Fluttershy in the middle of the circle. She was still there. She was still alive.

But when the halo retracted, the eye rematerialized, until it stared once more, blazing at the wizard.

Radagast muttered a curse in the Elvish tongue, and his eyes flashed in every direction, as if the answer to this crisis lay hidden somewhere. Panic took hold of him, but he shrugged it off. In his mind, he went through all of his spell-books, picking out a spell that would destroy this infernal eye.

Fluttershy stood in the middle of the circle, but she couldn’t see anything anymore. There was only fire or void, creeping up from every side in a deadly tornado. Fluttershy felt like she’d just stepped into an oven, and the heat blasted in her face. She shut her eyes, both against the heat, and because they would dry out if she didn’t. “What is happening!” she yelled, but her words were lost in the void. It looked as if the walls of fire were closing in on her. She knew that she couldn’t stand it any longer. She would be roasted alive. Suddenly, the stench of burning hair filled the dark cocoon, and when Fluttershy looked back, she saw that her tail caught fire. Quickly she waved it around, extinguishing the flames biting at her tail; wisps of purple smoke emanated from the singed hairs.

“HELP!”

Everything went black.

Then, the pupil of the eye exploded in a torrent of fire. But it was blue fire. The face of the wizard came into view. Then his hand. He grabbed Fluttershy by her front hooves and hauled her with an adrenaline-filled burst of strength through the gap in the flame-ringed pupil.

“We have to go!” Radagast yelled over the roaring flames, but then he saw that Fluttershy was limp, and her eyes were closed.

He hoped. He hoped she wasn’t gone. But he didn’t have time to hope. Radagast flung Fluttershy over his shoulder and started moving towards the stairs. Before he stepped through the arch, he looked back once more.

The eye was shaking like an unstable spell, until it let loose a spray of white-hot embers, showering down on the leaf crown. Immediately, with an unnatural speed, the leaves caught fire, and soon the green roof transformed into a hellish, fiery blanket.

Despite the heat, the burning tree, the limp pegasus on his back, Radagast couldn’t go. He couldn’t avert his gaze from that single, enormous eye, watching his every move. A burning branch snapped off and fell right before Radagast’s feet, but still he didn’t budge. Then, with a voice as cold as the steel kiss of a knife, stabbing through flesh and bone, the eye spoke three words.

“I… SEE… YOU…!”

It wasn’t even screaming, but it wasn’t whispering either. It wasn’t a threat, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh either. It was just those three words, echoing endlessly through the burning chamber.

Then, the eye exploded. The pupil disappeared, and it sent a halo of infernal, fiery magic flying all around. Radagast turned around, trying to protect Fluttershy from the flames; it cost him the skin of his back. Radagast felt the flames biting and flaying his skin, and then spreading salt right over it. His knees gave way, and he screamed almost as loud as the roaring of the flames. Strangely enough, his mantle was unharmed.

Radagast forced himself to stand up, fell down, stood up again. With his free hand, he grabbed the wooden rail of the stairs and stumbled down, sometimes staggering, sometimes crawling.

Around him, the tree began falling apart. It was as if the sun was shining only inches away from his head. Burning leaves rained down, and smoke made the air stab his throat. Radagast didn’t think; he acted. Like a fireman he carried Fluttershy on his back, determined to escape the burning tree or die trying.

Down between the roots of the trees, the rabbits stood upright and looked at the fiery oak, hoping to catch a glimpse of their master. Part of them wanted to flee from this macabre forest fire, but the leader had urged them to stay. Only when the tree would fall down to the ground would they go.

“Thank the eagles, you’re still here.”

Radagast staggered towards the sled, laid down Fluttershy as carefully as his pained limbs allowed, and clamped his blistered fingers around the handlebar. “Go,” he said through gritted teeth.

But the rabbits didn’t need to be told what to do. They ran away from the ghastly fire as fast as they could, together with many other animals, who had smelled or seen the forest fire too. Foxes, elks, birds; all had the same terror in their eyes.

Suddenly, an enormous rumble like an earthquake made the forest tremble. Behind the sled, the giant magical tree buckled, and fell down amidst a rain of cinders; the rumble had been its death-cry.

Chapter nine: the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

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“Ugh! Why do trains always have to be so loud?”

But over the sound of the steam whistle, there was nopony else who heard Rarity complain, which was probably for the best.

When the sound came to an abrupt end, Rarity looked over at a clock on the wall. How long had she been traveling already? She couldn’t remember.

But she had to be almost there, even though it didn’t look like it. Outside, instead of the snow and ice which marked the beginning of northern Equestria, trees were visible and shot by on either side. Had Rarity been outside, she could have felt that the temperature was drastically dropping, but inside the steam-warmed train wagon, she couldn’t feel its frozen kiss, so to Rarity it seemed that she wasn’t getting any closer to her goal.

The truth was, the train was riding through the Galloping Gorge, the last major landmark until the Crystal Empire.

Rarity tried to distract herself and looked around the train wagon. It was only half-full, and Rarity reckoned that travelers from the Crystal Empire would probably not often go as far as Ponyville, but would rather prefer to spend their holidays closer to home, in Vanhoover or Cloudsdale for example. Of course they were tourists. One stallion wore a t-shirt with the sigil of Ponyville; two mares with a heart in the middle. Rarity thought it looked quite silly on him, especially together with his bright green hat. Suitcases, big ones, were stacked in compartments above, which further hinted at far destinations. A couple of fillies were busy playing a card game; two mares were discussing the weather; a stallion and a mare, both finely dressed, were reading in books—the same books, in fact. There was one stallion, blue with a bright green pine tree as a cutie mark, who looked out the window; Rarity hadn’t seen him do anything else since the train had departed.

I wonder what he’s looking at.

Now Rarity looked out the window as well, at the landscape which revealed itself before her eyes. The train snaked past an enormous mountain, tipped with white snow, and behind it, a valley lay flat between its roots. Green pastures stretched far ahead, dotted with occasional patches of pine-tree forests. The clouds in the sky finished the painting, which it might as well could have been, as the fluffy, round shapes in a healthy blue sky delivered an interesting contrast to the countless hues of green.

Rarity couldn’t deny it; it did look pretty. But to her, the Crystal Empire would look even more pretty. Nothing can compare to the Crystal Empire, she thought, but then she frowned. Okay, maybe Canterlot, but the Crystal Empire comes in close second.

When the face of a mountain blocked Rarity’s view, and all she could look at were rocks and dirt, she averted her gaze, almost in disappointment. Rarity plunged into her thoughts about her mission. She had been in caves often enough to gather crystals, but she had never before been into a mine. Mentally bracing herself for the dustiness and nastiness which would undoubtedly overcome her, Rarity tried to find some way to distract herself from those icky thoughts.

Distraction came, as the door of the train wagon opened.

“Catering service!” A stallion shouted, and walked inside with a cart of treats.

Oh my! Why do even the employees have to be so loud?

But the moment Rarity thought those words, they dissolved in her mind at the sight before her eyes.

It wasn’t the pile of tasty confectionary and sandwiches, but rather the stallion behind them. He was young; much younger than the other conductors, and instead of those hideous muttonchops all of them used to wear, this one had a muzzle full of rough stubbles, and together with his snappy mane and tail—but not too snappy—, he had the complete handsome and rugged look.

One of the passengers called him over, some others stared at him with frowns on their faces, probably having awoken from their sleep by the stallion’s call.

Rarity tried to observe him as inconspicuously as she could, and pretended to watch the scenery that wasn’t there, while her eyes studied that looker’s every move.

The mare ordered a hay-sandwich; the stallion grabbed one off his silver plate, and bowed over to give it to her.

Rarity saw him swishing his tail; she almost made a sound.

“Thank you very much,” the mare said, and handed him some bits. “Keep the change.”

“That’s very friendly of you,” Mister Handsome said, and grabbed his cart to serve the other passengers.

He’s coming to me, Rarity thought, but couldn’t quite summon words to say to him.

The stallion saw a hoof rise up in the air, and he wheeled further into the hallway.

Now or never. Rarity cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir, can I have one of those sandwiches? They look absolutely gorgeous—eh, I mean delicious.”

But in reality, the food left her cold, she just wanted to feel the glow of the stallion’s aura around her.

“Certainly, Miss,” the stallion said, and crouched down to grab one from the bottom of the cart.

Rarity giggled. “Oh, please call me Rarity. No need to be that formal.”

But why did she say that? The moment those words left her lips, Rarity mentally slapped herself. She had been to countless galas and had managed to charm so many stallions, always using the right words and the right tone, adorned with strategic body language. But for a train wagon, she couldn’t find words appropriate enough, and wondered if any words would be appropriate enough, and not sound silly.

“Well there you go, Miss Rarity,” the stallion said, his voice soft but with a deep undertone, not giving the slightest hint of the embarrassment which Rarity felt.

“Eh…” Rarity struggled with words. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, it’s my job,” the stallion said with a smile.

As close as he stood before Rarity, she could see three little freckles on his face. They gave him a rather cute appearance, but somehow they were in harmony with his rough features. His hide was as blue as the sky Rarity had just seen, and his mane dark and shiny, combed back and only leaving just enough hairs out of place to accommodate his rugged look. Emerald eyes stared back at Rarity, and a gentle smile curled his lips. Suddenly, one of his eyebrows raised, but his smile didn’t disappear.

“Eh… Miss Rarity?”

“Yes?”

“You do know that you have to pay for that.”

A shock went through the Rarity’s body, traveling upward through her neck and to her cheeks, where it appeared as a red blush. “Oh, yes, of course.” With a chuckle of awkwardness, Rarity looked down and fumbled around her, as if her wallet was lying on the bench, which it wasn’t. She dared to glance at the stallion. He still stood there with all the patience in the world, still smiling. Then his green eyes turned to the ground as well, but not in shame.

“Ah, of course, there’s my bag,” Rarity said, and shoved it from underneath the bench. She jammed her hoof in the bag, pulled out her wallet—violet, matching the bag—and handed the stallion a few bits.

“Thanks,” he said, and began fumbling in his pockets for change.

“Oh, please keep the change,” Rarity said, still thinking of something more romantic to say.

“How nice of you. Thanks.” Then the stallion stepped away from Rarity’s seat, his job done.

Rarity didn’t even have the chance to say something back; she knew she’d lost him as the wheels of his cart started squeaking.

But then, the stallion turned his head around, looked at Rarity, winked, and said, “My name is Whistle Tone, by the way.” He swished his tail, revealing a cutie mark in the shape of a train whistle with a musical note, then he continued his way to another hungry passenger.

A smile, accompanied with wide-open eyes marked Rarity’s face, and she knew from that moment that she would never complain about steam whistles again. Ever.

But still Rarity knew that she had lost him, and her heart felt heavy. With a sigh, she held her head in her hooves and decided to stare out the window a bit, even though there were just rocks to look at.

The train had passed through the Galloping Gorge, and the land started to become flatter and flatter. There was one more piece of lowlands between the Gorge and the first mountains which would mark the borders of the North. How exciting and interesting the landscape had been between the mountains and the valleys in the Galloping Gorge. Now the land was just flat grass, which occasionally bore the heavy weight of some boulders; some small; others bigger, but nothing interesting to look at. Even the sky had become more boring, as it was now nothing more than a white soup with some specks of blue, nothing more, nothing less.

But Rarity still looked at it, as she didn’t dare to look back into the train wagon until she would hear the sound of the door’s hinges.

Suddenly, Rarity felt something on her shoulder.

“Miss Rarity, are you feeling okay?”

Rarity’s head jerked around, and Whistle Tone withdrew his hoof. “Oh, please excuse me.”

“Oh… Oh don’t worry,” Rarity said, determined not to blow it this time. “I’m quite okay.”

“Good.” Whistle Tone bore his smile that came with his service, but this time it looked more than that. More genuine, as he really was concerned about Rarity’s absent look through that window. But if that was the reason, why didn’t he talk to that staring stallion opposite of Rarity? “Are you going to the Crystal Empire?”

“I am,” Rarity said, forcing her voice into a natural tone. “I am… eh… getting something for a friend of mine.”

“Ah, I see.” Did Whistle Tone’s smile waver for a second, or was it Rarity’s imagination?

But then Rarity realized her mistake. “She is… eh… gone.”

Whistle Tone’s smile disappeared, and he closed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.”

“I mean… not gone… She’s alive I mean. She’s just… sick. Yes, she’s sick.” Oh, how could I lie to him!

But the stallion saw that Rarity had no idea how to tell the actual events to him, so he put on his smile again, this time more comforting and genuine than before. Whatever the case, he decided to say something nice to this confused mare. “Well, then you’re a very good friend, traveling all the way to the Crystal Empire to get a nice present for her.”

“Thank you very much, she and I we—“ but then Rarity frowned. “Wait, how do you know I came from far?”

Whistle Tone’s smile became even broader, curling the corners of his stubble-covered muzzle. “You’re Rarity Belle, aren’t you? The famous fashion designer. I reckon there aren’t that many Rarities in Equestria.”

Rarity blushed a second time. “Oh my, am I getting that known already?”

“You sure do. Well, how could you not, right? You’re making beautiful clothes.”

“You are too kind.”

Suddenly, a steam whistle went off. Rarity jolted and put her hooves to her ears, but Whistle Tone stood unmoved, having heard that sound a million times before. In a flash of thought, Rarity realized she must probably look like a fool.

“Oops, we’ve already arrived. It should actually have been me blowing that whistle. I hope the engineers aren’t angry, hehe.” Then he looked at Rarity, closed his eyes, and made a shallow bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Rarity. I hope we’ll meet again soon—oh, and give your friend my regards.”

Rarity wanted to say something back, but before she could, Whistle Tone was already gone and the only trace that remained of him was the sound of the door’s hinges.

The Crystal Empire looked just as brilliant as the last time Rarity had visited it. Leaving the train station behind, Rarity trotted over a street as shiny and blue as the sky above. Rows of beautiful crystal houses sprouted on both sides. Even though Rarity had visited the city a couple of times, she never lost interest in the exotic design of the Empire’s architecture. Gleaming crystal walls, dotted with small windows made of transparent stone, supported little spires which jotted out of the buildings like needles. They looked as if they might break at the slightest breeze, and it gave the whole city a feel of delicate beauty, which had to be carefully preserved with gentle hooves and gentler minds.

Ponies walked by, and Rarity could easily separate the tourists from the locals. Not only because the tourists wore sunglasses against the brilliant shine and cameras to save some sparkling memories and capture the beauty of the city, but also because of their looks. The crystal ponies were as shining and cheerful as their city, and every time Rarity saw one of them, he or she was smiling and trotting with a light and delicate step. But Rarity paid more attention to their manestyles, which were much different from how the residents of Ponyville wore their manes. The stallions’ manes and tails were carefully combed and brushed, and looked to be made of silk.

Pure perfection, Rarity thought, not a single hair out of place.

And the mares. They preferred to tie their mane in gorgeous braids and ponytails, waving along with every step. More often than not, crystal pins and brooches adorned their coiffures, which made their appearance even more striking.

If Rarity would be here on a pleasure trip, she would definitely have walked slower, just to gaze at the beauty of the city, and perhaps trying to find some inspiration for her latest pieces of fashion. Rarity reckoned that the Crystal Empire would inspire anypony who set a hoof on its streets.

But Rarity wasn’t on a pleasure trip at all; she was on a mission. And so, trying her best to keep her focus and not get distracted by anything or anypony, she marched straight ahead.

Passing town square, with its little boutiques and shops, and a giant ruby statue of Spike in the middle of the crossroads, Rarity halted for just a little moment to gaze at the Crystal Palace.

She was careful to stay out of its shadow, so she wouldn’t miss one tiny shiny detail of the enormous spire. Shining a brilliant blue, the Crystal Palace looked just as delicate as the other buildings, but it surpassed everything in beauty. Purple banners hung down the enormous pillars, fluttering in the breeze and making the snowflakes on them bend in odd shapes. The pillars were supported by a graceful arc, bearing the rest of the structure like a frozen waterfall.

“Would you like me to take a picture for you?”

Rarity didn’t know how long she had been standing and gazing at the Crystal Palace, but the voice of a mare brought her back to the present. She was standing next to her with a camera in her hooves. No doubt she was amazed by the beauty of the iconic palace as well.

“No thank you darling,” Rarity said. “I’m just here to visit.”

“Yeah, me too,” the mare said. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, quite.” But silently Rarity laughed, because she meant that she was going to visit the palace itself, and not just the city.

“I’m sorry but I must be going. Have a nice holiday.”

“You too, Miss,” the mare sad back, but raised an eyebrow as she saw Rarity trot towards the palace and disappearing into its shadow.

Rarity’s hoofsteps made the sound of chiming triangles as she climbed the blue crystal stairs. Two guardponies with feathered helmets stood watch, and adjusted their stance as they saw the unicorn approach.

“I would like a request with Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor, please.”

“Of course,” the right guard said. “No need to be so formal, Miss Rarity. Please proceed after me.”

And with that, he turned around and opened the enormous doors, which were a semi-transparent blue, and adorned with golden studs. They gave the castle an open and welcoming look; not at all like the impenetrable doors of a great stronghold.

They walked through a couple of shining hallways, before the guard left Rarity alone in what appeared to be one of the many living rooms in the castle, as there were many chairs and tables, and even a crystal hearth. The only things that weren’t made of crystal were the logs in the shiny fireplace. Rarity walked over to one of the richly-decorated chairs, studied its design for a minute, and then sat down. She looked across the room, taking in every detail.

Unlike Twilight’s Castle of Friendship, the Crystal Palace was built in height. The roof was way higher than it needed to be, upheld by slim columns and arches that looked too thin to carry their weights. Everything was either transparent or semi-transparent, giving the whole room an airy feel, much like the buildings of Cloudsdale, which were made of pure air and weaved clouds. Windows were very scarce, and most of the light came from high chandeliers, which somehow managed to shine their light all across the room. As Rarity looked closer, she noticed carvings on the walls, right where they met the roof. At first Rarity thought they were just pretty symbols, but after gazing at one design for a minute, she saw that they were like paintings, chiseled out of the crystal with surgical precision. They were ponies, standing around one single statue; a stone in the shape of a heart, casting rays all over the ponies who cheered in delight.

I wonder if I can get somepony to make this above the door of Carousel Boutique, Rarity thought. Perhaps an image of Opal and I?

With an almost musical clinking sound, the door opened, and Princess Cadence walked inside, followed by her husband.

“Rarity,” Cadence said, “how wonderful to see you again.”

Rarity stood up and offered a shallow bow. “Your majesties.”

“Aw, don’t be so starch, Rarity,” Shining Armor said with a laugh. “We should be bowing for you. What brings you to the Empire?”

A blush spread on Rarity’s cheeks. “Thank you so much for seeing me. I… eh… How should I tell this? I am on a very important mission.”

The serious tone of Rarity’s voice made both regents lose their smile. “Rarity, you sound stressed,” Cadence said. “Why don’t you tell us what is troubling you over a cup of tea?”

Rarity nodded.

Cadence called a servant, and requested tea and coffee. The coffee was probably for Shining Armor, as he looked like Flurry Heart still kept him awake at night. Within minutes the tea and coffee came, and the ponies sat down on the crystal chairs.

“Rarity, you know you can tell us anything, right?” Cadence said. “If there’s anything we can help with, you just have to ask.”

Rarity sipped her tea and put down the cup. “Well, actually, you might be able to help me. That’s actually why I’ve come here. Twilight has sent me to get crystals able to store an enormous amount of magical energy, and she knew—and so do I—that the finest magical crystals can only be found in the Crystal Empire.”

Princess Cadence tapped her chin with her hooves. “I see. Did Twilight give you any specifics like size or hardness?”

“She did. I have a whole list here.” And with that, Rarity pulled a rolled-up parchment out of her bag and floated it to Cadence in a glow of magic.

Shining armor grabbed the parchment with a flash of his horn. “Let me see. I know some things about crystals.”

But when he unrolled the thing, the paper cascaded down like a waterfall, under the table, under Rarity’s chair, until it finally bumped against the wall.

Shining armor made a face. “Well, at least these specifics are… well… specific.”

Rarity saw that Princess Cadence could barely hold her laughter, but her face straightened when Shining Armor rolled up the parchment. With a bit too serious face, she said, “So what do you think, Shining?”

“I think that we should get a specialist to take a look at this,” Shining said, his mind still a bit groggy from all the data he had tried—and failed—to absorb. How can unicorns even write that much without falling asleep? he thought, as he reached for his coffee.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Cadence said. “I will call for the head of our mining operations in the Crystal Empire.”

Shining Armor stood up. “Don’t worry about that, love, I’ll go get him myself. I’ve been inside the whole day and I think it’s good for me to stretch my legs.”

And with that, Shining armor hurried out the door, the roll of specifics floating after him in a blue cloud of magic.

Then, Princess Cadence burst into a chuckle, followed soon by Rarity.

“Oh, I love that confused look on his face,” Cadence said. “Thanks to Flurry Heart, I see that look more and more often.”

“Yes. I must admit, he does look rather cute when his eyes look like that.”

Princess Cadence grinned, and took a sip of tea. “Typically Twilight, being so organized and thorough on the details. What does she need the crystals for anyway?”

And then Rarity had no choice but to tell the princess of the Crystal Empire everything that had happened. At first she didn’t want to tell it, feeling that it wasn’t quite appropriate. Rarity had seen the feelings of shame and guilt radiate from Twilight’s sad eyes, and she had thought about keeping the accident a secret as long as she could, just to help Twilight process her mistake.

But now she told it—everything. Rarity told Cadence about the machine, about Fluttershy and the lightning bolt, about the accident and the strange fictional world she got beamed into. All the while Cadence let Rarity talk, although her expression spoke volumes. “Oh my,” she said once, when Rarity told her who the unfortunate victim of the accident was. She ended her tale with the council she and her friends had held, and what their plans were to get Fluttershy back to Equestria.

“Poor Fluttershy,” Cadence whispered. “Out of all ponies… Fluttershy.”

Rarity turned her cup around in her hooves, even though it was empty. “I can’t imagine what she must be going through, the poor dear. I just hope she found some animals who can take care of her. At least, those are my most hopeful and positive thoughts. I try to hold those thoughts close; they are what gives me strength.” Rarity sighed. “I just hope we will be able to get her out before that hideous monster makes his home in the Greenwood.”

“Yes,” Cadence said, although her voice was absent and soft. She shook her head. “I just can’t get my head around the fact that Twilight asked Discord to lend her some magical energy. He is quite an unreliable individual, if you ask me. I have heard the stories…”

Rarity nodded. Then, suddenly, her expression brightened. “That’s true but… But couldn’t you lend Twilight some magical energy? You are an alicorn, after all, and then I save Applejack and Pinkie Pie the trouble of going to that maniac to ask for that favor.”

“I’m afraid not, Rarity,” Cadence said, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. “Even though I am an alicorn, my magic specializes in warmth and love. What you need is teleportation magic, and not just any teleportation magic, but teleportation magic able to rip through the fabric of not only time and space, but also fiction and reality. I do have knowledge of teleportation, but I doubt it’s powerful enough to reach for imaginary dimensions.”

Rarity’s ears flattened against her head. “I see.”

Then, Princess Cadence stood up, and lifted Rarity’s chin with her hoof. “Don’t worry, Rarity. If there is anypony clever and resourceful enough to get Fluttershy back, it’s Twilight Sparkle. I will bet my reign that Twilight will be able to save Fluttershy. I truly do.”

The princess’s voice was gentle, but warm and strong. Rarity felt her most joyful memories of herself and Fluttershy drift into her head on a soft, warm cloud. Perhaps it was Cadence’s voice, or perhaps the magical energy she radiated and the love flowing on it, but Rarity felt better—much better.

“Thank you,” she said, blinking away a tear. She sat upright again and looked Cadence in the eyes. “Would you please not tell anypony else about it? I am sure Twilight feels even worse than I, and I am certain that she would like to keep this delicate matter as discreet as possible.”

Cadence grabbed hold of Rarity’s shoulders. “I promise.”

When the princess let her go and returned to her seat, Rarity wiped a few tears off her cheek; her mascara was probably ruined now, but she didn’t care.

Princess Cadence swished her tail to the side and bent her legs to sit down. But she didn’t even have time to install herself in comfort, as the crystal door swung open.

“I got him, Cadence,” Shining Armor said, as he walked into the room. The outside air had certainly done him good, as he looked much more refreshed, and content of the completion of his mission. Next to him walked another pony; the head of the Crystal Empire’s mining operations. He stepped forward and made a shallow bow, but not to Princess Cadence—to Rarity.

“Hello again, Miss Rarity,” Whistle Tone said, and flashed a funny smile.

It was a good thing Rarity had placed her cup on the table, otherwise she would most certainly have dropped it to the ground. “Whistle Tone? But you are… I mean… eh…” Then she recomposed herself, as her sense of etiquette took over. “A good afternoon, Whistle Tone.”

Whistle Tone raised his head and bowed to the princess as well. He had a yellow mining helmet in his hooves, which he swung back on his head as he raised. A yellow vest with reflective stripes covered his barrel and made him look more like a builder than a miner. But stains of black dust and his dirty hooves proved the fact that he was certainly somepony who worked underground. He waved his tail, which looked just a tad scruffier than in the train, and a few crumbles of rock trickled on the floor.

Both Cadence and Shining Armor looked at Rarity and her flabbergasted face, then to Whistle Tone with his sly smile, then back at Rarity. “Do you know him?” Shining said.

“Yes… eh, no… I mean, yes!” Rarity blinked. She certainly hadn’t expected to let that handsome stallion surprise her again.

But Whistle Tone helped her out. “I am simply dying to show Miss Rarity my enterprise. May I ask your permission to leave, your royal highnesses?”

Shining Armor opened his mouth to ask one of the many questions that had popped up in his mind with this strange and somewhat awkward encounter, but Princess Cadence cut him off.

“Yes, of course. You have my leave.”

“Great!” Whistle Tone made two little jumps. “Let’s go, Miss Rarity. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.” He nudged with his head, turned around, and swished his tail while heading out the door.

“But… But…” Shining armor said with a stutter.

“Rarity is in a bit of a hurry, Shining,” Cadence said to him. “She really has to leave as quickly as possible, that would be for the best.”

And Rarity knew that would indeed be for the best, but she felt more than a bit reluctant now.

While Shining Armor raised an eyebrow, Cadence immediately saw what was going on here. With a flash of magic, she lifted Rarity off her chair, and dropped her on her hooves. “Come on, you two, let’s go.” Only with a last magical nudge did Rarity find enough savvy to follow Whistle Tone out the door, leaving the two regents of the Crystal Empire behind.

It was afternoon, and the sun floated high in the sky, making the shadows narrow and the crystal buildings shine. Rarity and Whistle Tone soon left the city center with its cafés and boutiques behind, and walked through the neighborhoods where the inhabitants of the Crystal Empire had made their homes. Rows and rows of cheerful, multi-colored houses accompanied the two walking ponies on either side, and although they looked absolutely gorgeous in the sunlight, Rarity had no eye for them now. She had questions, alright, but she couldn’t yet ask them.

And so they walked in silence for a while. Rarity with a tense expression, feeling the awkwardness of this situation, while Whistle Tone walked with a light step and a lighter smile on his face.

“You didn’t see that one coming, did you?” he finally said. “I’ve seen miners with a less baffled look before they discover a hidden diamond.”

To the sound of his voice, Rarity jolted, but then she realized how ridiculous she was behaving in front of Whistle Tone. He’s just a stallion, Rarity thought. Just talk to him. She took a deep breath and then started to talk.

“So I understand that you are both the train conductor and the head of the mining operations?”

“Indeed I am,” Whistle Tone said, with pride in his smile. “But conductor is just a sideline job. My real passion is mining.”

“Oh.” Rarity paused for a second to think about how to pose her next question; she decided to go for the direct approach, but properly worded. “And why, may I ask, do you have two jobs when mining is the one where your heart lies?”

“A fair question, Miss Rarity,” Whistle Tone said. “But the answer is actually quite simple. I just like two professions so very much, that I cannot choose between them. Surely you must have multiple things that you like to do as well.”

Rarity thought for a moment, and realized that he was right. While she was a fashion designer at heart, her creative spirit also felt right at home at drawing. Often she would draw the designs she would make before she started picking the fabrics, and Rarity did enjoy the drawing process almost as much as the sewing and crafting. Rarity hadn’t expected such wisdom from a pony as scruffy-looking as Whistle Tone. It made him all the more interesting. Slowly, Rarity she felt the tension and awkwardness disappear. They were just two ponies, who happened to have met on the train, enjoying the land’s weather and a good conversation.

They left the neighborhoods behind and entered a new part of the Crystal Empire. To Rarity, it looked as if they had stepped from one world into another, much like the way Fluttershy now lived in Middle Earth. The buildings became rougher, cruder, built for function, rather than fashion. The funny little spires disappeared, and the windows became even more scarce. The crystal had rough edges and seemed to be less shiny than the buildings in the center of the Empire. Soon, they became a far cry from the palace itself. The gardens became wilder; the grass longer; the bushes less tended to.

“This is the part of the Crystal Empire which they don’t show you in the touristic brochures,” Whistle Tone said. “Situated here are the corporations, the enterprises, and the factories which form the backbone of our society. Do you see that building over there?”

Rarity followed the stallion’s gaze towards a big crystal building. It looked like a pink cave which had sprouted from the earth itself. Rarity had a hard time appreciating the crude design; it wasn’t her style.

“It’s brand new,” Whistle Tone said. “They built it only a week ago. It’s actually a workshop where they smelt and cut the crystals which, in turn, are used to build even more buildings. Not very pretty, maybe, but necessary.”

Rarity nodded.

“But anyway, I’m trailing off. In fact, we’re almost there.” Whistle Tone’s gait sped up, and they now cantered through the industrial part of the Crystal Empire.

They continued like that for a while, and Rarity started looking at the buildings and the streets again with a renewed appreciation. The streets gradually became a little more busy, as the end of the afternoon meant that the working day for many ponies would be over soon. As Rarity looked, she saw that even the ponies looked different in this part of the Empire. Most of them didn’t even wore fancy gowns or clothes at all, and the ones that did wear something showed off their function, rather than their fashion. Sturdy denim, work boots, checkered shirts with many pockets, helmets and tool belts; obviously worn by workponies who were going to go back to their families and their homes. Their manes were scruffy, and haphazardly styled into a ponytail or bun at best. Even though they remained crystal ponies, and their hides were sparkly and shiny in the lowering sun, many ponies’ hides were stained with grease, oil, sand, dust, or other kinds of filth Rarity wasn’t going to guess at. All of them looked tired, and walked slow. But they looked also… content. More often than not, Rarity saw them standing in groups on the streets, drinking and discussing their days with each other. She felt a kind of connection between them, as if they were all neighbors of each other, even though they lived in totally different parts of the Empire. It intrigued her. Somehow, this part of the Crystal Empire started to intrigue Rarity more and more with every step she took.

Rarity was just going to ask Whistle Tone more about what she thought, but her breath got taken away by an enormous building right in front of her nose.

“Tadaa!”

In terms of design, there wasn’t much special about it. It was just its size. Like a gigantic mountain, certainly thrice the height of the Ponyville town hall, it loomed over the two ponies, certainly not welcoming them to come inside. Rarity couldn’t even begin to guess how big it must be from the inside, so she just continued staring at the walls. Of course they were made of crystal as well, but of different colors. Rarity spotted at least five different colors of crystal, and she reckoned that the thing had been made out of different clusters of minerals, because one cluster would certainly not suffice.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Whistle Tone said, as he saw Rarity’s open-mouthed expression.

“Quite.”

Whistle Tone chuckled. “Don’t let the outside fool you, from the inside it’s mainly empty. It’s one of our storage buildings, and there’s really nothing much interesting inside. Just a whole bunch of crystals and some workshops. But it’s not the storage building we’re looking for, but the chute. It’s over there.”

Whistle Tone pointed, Rarity looked, and once more, she was amazed by what she saw.

An enormous wheel, slowly turning, even bigger than the Ponyville Eye at the local funfair, stood next to the storage building, partly obscured by the enormous crystal structure. It too, was made of crystal, but at some points it was reinforced with steel bars and nails, giving the whole structure both a rickety and sturdy look at the same time. Like a spider web, many cables ran to and from the wheel, connected to a dozen smaller, cog-like wheels, but connected to the same axis. When Rarity looked closer, she saw something glittering in the carts, which looked tiny from where they stood. Slowly but steadily, one of the carts hovered over one of the smokestacks of the storage building, tipped, and dropped its valuable load into the smokestack—which wasn’t a smokestack at all—and into the crystal behemoth. Then, it followed its cable once more, turned around at the bottom of the wheel, and disappeared into the mining chute. The whole thing looked like a ski-lift; a ski-lift for gems.

“If you like this already, wait until you’re inside the tunnels,” Whistle Tone said. He nudged with his head and trotted towards the great wheel. Rarity saw the cheerfulness through his step; an almost foal-like enthusiasm.

When they reached the bottom of the wheel, Rarity saw that there was an elevator too; a metal cage-like structure which hung over a black abyss. They both stepped in.

“Get her down, Cog.”

“Yes sir,” a pony with a grey goatee said. He pulled one of the many levers he was operating. Rarity felt a shudder go through the cage, wobbled, but managed to grab the railing. Then they went down.

Soon they were surrounded by total darkness. Rarity heard a click, and then a beam of light shone from Whistle Tone’s headlight, pointing to some of the bars of the cage. “Put one of them on, Miss Rarity,” he said, gesturing towards a few hooks with mining helmets attached to them. “They will save your life, trust me.”

Rarity grabbed one, inspected its cleanliness, frowned, but then put it on her head anyway after tying her mane up into a ponytail.

The cage rattled and clanged as it went down, and Rarity figured it was probably the most uncomfortable ride she had ever experienced. She decided to distract herself for a bit, and tapped Whistle Tone on his shoulder. “How deep are we going?” she said, trying to make herself understandable over the sounds of scraping metal and rattling cogs.

“As deep as it goes,” Whistle Tone said with a smile. “The closer we are towards bedrock, the harder the crystals become, as there is more Equestria pushing on their heads, thus increasing their hardness. Am I making sense?”

“Certainly,” Rarity said, although she didn’t fancy the idea of going to the bottom of Equestria. What if something happened? Then she would be trapped in a deep, dark hole where nopony would ever find her. Rarity swallowed, and forced her mind to think of other things.

Occasionally, a cart full of crystals zipped past them on its way to the surface, climbing faster than the elevator descended.

Suddenly, they heard singing, and Whistle Tone looked down. “Hey Trowel, I shouldn’t do that if I were you!” Whistle Tone shouted towards a grey pony. He was sitting right on top of a pile of crystals in a cart, sailing upwards with an enormous speed.

The cart with Trowel passed the elevator in the blink of an eye, but his laugh rolled through the chute. Even though he was already out of view, his words echoed to the two ponies in the elevator. “Ha! Elevators are for foals, Boss!”

“Fine!” Whistle Tone called after him, “but I’m not responsible for any accidents!” Then he looked back at Rarity, with a smile on his face that said, ‘Don’t be surprised, this is just the way we do things here.’ Rarity had no idea what to say.

With a clang, the elevator came to a sudden halt. Whistle Tone turned a lever, and the cage doors opened, revealing nothing but a black void ahead.

“Don’t worry, it gets lighter when we reach the main chamber,” Whistle Tone said, and moved on ahead.

They walked through the tunnel, which was small and claustrophobic. Even though Rarity had been underground more than a few times to collect crystals for her dresses, she felt like an outsider in a strange land. The caves she had been in had been nothing but rocky outcroppings, and when those caves plunged deeper into the earth, it would never be for long until it would reach a dead end. And then again, Rarity never needed—or dared—to go that deep, as most of the crystals were at the top of the caves, and when the trail of shiny gems would lead further down, Rarity would simply stop and choose another cave; there were plenty of them in the mountainous lands surrounding Ponyville.

The quietness of the cave, the dust, the ominous clip-clop of their hooves; they sounded strange.

Just the idea being that deep in the bowels of the earth made Rarity uncomfortable, even though she had a more than experienced companion to guide her out again.

“Hey there! Are you okay, Miss Rarity?” Whistle Tone said, looking at Rarity’s unsteady pace.

“Eh… yes, I’m fine, really,” Rarity said.

“Well, you look a bit nervous. Do you have experience with caves?”

She wanted to say ‘yes,’ then ‘no,’ then ‘maybe,’ but decided to stay quiet and focus her attention on not fainting, even though she knew it would be a bit rude not to say anything back.

They continued for an hour maybe. There were a few side-passages, but Whistle Tone ignored them. They stuck to the main tunnel, which was the biggest one, and which was good, because Rarity would probably not handle the oppressive atmosphere in any smaller passages.

Suddenly, Rarity stopped.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?” Whistle Tone said. He turned his ears around in every direction.

“That sound.” Rarity did the same.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rarity, my hearing isn’t that good, I’m afraid. Drills and detonations have worn it down a bit. So what are you hearing?”

Rarity focused on the sound. It sounded like a rumbling; a very low sound echoing through the tunnels. It sounded like the snoring of a sleeping dragon, or perhaps the first sounds of an earthquake, heralding its destructive tendencies. Rarity hoped it wasn’t either of the two.

They walked further. Whistle Tone assured Rarity that there was no creature to be afraid of, and that earthquakes have never threatened the Crystal Empire.

Then, Whistle Tone heard the sound as well, and he laughed. “I’ll show you what it is, Miss Rarity. It’s certainly nothing to be afraid of, trust me.”

It was singing.

A chorus of rough stallion voices was singing a song further down the tunnel. Rarity could only pick up separate words or phrases, but as they neared, the song became louder and clearer. A few minutes later, they had reached their destination: the central chamber.

Rarity totally forgot about the song, as she entered the enormous space. Many wall-torches and lamps illuminated a room the size of princess Celestia’s throne hall. On either side, big plateaus had been carved out of the rock, supported by wooden or iron scaffolding on which many crystal ponies were busy working and singing. They slammed their pickaxes against the rock in a rhythmic cadence, and sung along to the primitive drum sounds.

“Wow!”

Everywhere Rarity looked, there were crystals. Most of them stood like enormous columns in the walls, partly buried in the rocks as if they were plants who rooted themselves in the earth. Some of them gave off a faint colored light, but all of them sparkled and glittered. Red, blue, purple, white, orange, green; every imaginable color was there. At their base, ponies were busy digging them out, while others separated them into smaller chunks. Rarity saw a primitive iron set of rails running through the chamber, on which half-empty carts were riding to and fro. Everypony was busy; everypony had a job to do. It looked like a giant ant-colony—an ant-colony of ponies.

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Whistle Tone said. He looked at Rarity, who was frozen in place. “Hello! Are you still there?” He waved a hoof in front of Rarity’s muzzle, then poked her to see if she was still alive. “Hey, I know a good way to unfreeze you.” Turning towards the rest of the miners, he shouted, “Hello, everypony! Meet my friend Rarity! Why don’t you guys give her a warm welcome with the song? You know what song I mean, let’s give her a taste of our noble work!”

A couple of ponies looked in their direction. Some gave Rarity suggestive whistles or shouted greetings to their boss. Then, a group of loaders started a new song. After a couple of retries, everypony was singing along, and soon the cave was filled with the sound of harsh voices and steel against rock, as they accompanied their melody with a rhythm produced by their pickaxes.

We are the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

Digging for crystals that look fine, fine, fine

With every rock we strike,

It is the sound we like

We will be digging for a time, time, time

Born underground,

Raised in the tunnels,

Don’t need no sky

We never tell a lie

Honest working folks,

Toiling in the earth,

Sweat raining down,

We never even frown

Tough as the rocks,

Harder than the gems

Proud ‘till the bone

We never even groan

We are the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

Digging for crystals that look fine, fine, fine

With every rock we strike,

It is the sound we like,

We will be digging for a time, time, time

Pegasi they fly,

Unicorns they cast

Strong is our deed

The only thing we need

Vital our task,

Need for our effort

By our enterprise

The crystal buildings rise

Tired from the work

Filled with contentment

Don’t need no breaks

We’ll do what it takes

We are the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

Digging for crystals that look fine, fine, fine

With every rock we strike,

It is the sound we like,

We will be digging for a time, time, time

We are the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

Digging for crystals that look fine, fine, fine

With every rock we strike,

It is the sound we like,

We will be digging for a time, time, time

The song ended. A few ponies set in another verse, but most of them continued with their work, or perhaps they allowed Rarity and their boss an opportunity to discuss things in private.

“I can’t believe it,” Rarity whispered.

Whistle Tone turned his head and his ears towards Rarity. “What?”

“They look so… content, satisfied, and… happy.”

“Of course they are,” Whistle Tone said. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Rarity took a moment to find the right words; she didn’t want to be rude. In that time, she looked once more at the working miners. They yelled, cursed, hacked, hauled. The air was full of metallic sounds, and the air smelled of machine oil, dust, and sweat. “Well, the work seems so… dirty and heavy and uncomfortable. I sometimes go to find crystals in caves myself, but I always make sure I know my way out, and that I don’t tread in caves any longer than necessary.”

Whistle Tone nodded. He thought about his two jobs; one underground, and the other in the train. When he was in the train, working with the passengers, he had to look as proper as possible, while in the mine it didn’t matter how he looked, as long as he worked hard. The two jobs were a stark contrast, as clear as night and day. “I understand what you mean, Miss Rarity, and I am not at all insulted by your words. The answer to your question is at the same time simple and difficult. First of all, look at their cutie marks.”

Rarity did so. All of the ponies had cutie marks shaped like things that had something to do with mining. An enormous stallion, pushing forth a cart with unimaginable strength, had a big, black boulder on his flank. Another, smaller stallion had a broken pickaxe; he was busy repairing the pickaxes that had been destroyed by the strain of the hard work. A third stallion, pink with an ashy-grey mane, bore a set of crystals, all different in color. He was looking through some glasses at small shards of crystal, perhaps determining the value or the location of a new deposit. When Rarity looked closer at the pony, she saw that it was not a stallion at all, but a mare with a short mane.

“I see that they all have cutie marks which show their affinity with the mining work,” Rarity said. “But still the work is hard and dirty. Surely there must be another reason why they do what they do, and why they like it.” Rarity thought about the many hours she spent at the sewing machine in her light, pretty boutique in Ponyville. The mine was so different. Even with all the effort in the world, she couldn’t possibly imagine herself working here in the mine, toiling over heavy carts or striking rocks with a pickaxe all day long.

“You’re right, there is,” Whistle Tone said. “But think about it. What do ponies need? Ponies need food and drinks to stay alive. Ponies need to have fun in their spare time. Ponies need friends who love them and a family for which they can care. My workers do their jobs here to earn bits so they can buy food and toys. And we’re all friends of each other here; we trust each other. And for the family bit, even if somepony here doesn’t have a wife or children, we still care about each other’s lives. In a sense, we’re all one big family here.”

Rarity nodded. “But it sounds so simple. Don’t they all have dreams or ambitions? Something to live for?”

Whistle Tone gave her a knowing smile. “Aren’t friends and family things to live for?”

To this simple and striking answer, Rarity shuffled on her hooves. “Yes… yes they are. But… but—“

“What are your dreams and ambitions then, Miss Rarity?” Whistle Tone said, trying not to interrupt Rarity too harshly.

A simple question. “I want to be a famous fashion designer,” Rarity said. “That is my dream.”

“And that is your answer to the question.” Whistle Tone gestured with his hoof to his workers. “They will never be famous—at least not to the world. The world will never know them. But you know what the thing is? They don’t care. As long as they have love and friendship around them, be it family or friends, they are satisfied. It may sound harsh, but they don’t have any ambitions, nor do they need them. Being without ambition is not a bad thing, Miss Rarity. It can be very freeing, and it’s easy to be satisfied that way. But don’t be fooled, for we do have a goal.”

Rarity frowned. “But you just said that they don’t have any ambition.”

“No individual ambition. But you know, Miss Rarity. Our ship may have no name, but it does have a destination. We reach this destination every time a cartload of crystals flies to the surface. Remember the building I showed you? The workshop?”

Rarity nodded.

“It is built with our crystals. In fact, almost every building in the Crystal Empire has been built with the crystals we dig up from this mine. We literally helped to establish the Crystal Empire from the beginning. That is our goal, and that is where we can get satisfaction from; knowing that we are the ones who made the Crystal Empire grow—crystal by crystal.”

Once again, Rarity nodded, not knowing what to say.

“In a sense, these miners working with rocks, metal, and crystals are the same as you working with fabrics, threads, and needles. The only difference is that we have a collective goal, while yours is a mission you pursue alone.”

Rarity took in all of Whistle’s words, and suddenly felt ashamed. Was she really so selfish, trying so hard to make herself known across Equestria? No, she thought. She wasn’t. She made beautiful clothes and fabric to outfit everyone in Equestria; the rich, the poor, the somewhere-in-between. But wasn’t that something petty and unimportant? These ponies literally made the Crystal Empire rise. But then again, they were ambitionless, and their work was only the first link in the chain that would sprout new buildings from the Empire’s crystal soil. There also had to be workers who shaped the crystals into columns; unicorns who gave the crystals magic and made them shine; builders who would connect the crystals to form walls and roofs; craftsponies able to make chairs, tables, and bookcases; and… interior designers to make the place look nice. Carpets, curtains, vases, paintings; all things that were not essential, but might be important to the inhabitants of the house.

It wasn’t that Rarity’s work was unimportant; it was just farther in the chain—the last stage of the building process: a spit-and-polish.

Rarity closed her eyes and nodded. “I understand, Whistle Tone. In fact, I understand exactly what you mean.” She stuck out her hoof in a polite hoofshake. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Whistle Tone said with a chuckle. “We still have to find you those crystals. But let’s get rid of everypony else first, so we can get them in peace and quiet, shall we?”

And with that, he walked over to a pole, from which a chain dangled down. Whistle Tone yanked the chain, and a steam-horn started screaming through the room, the sound amplified a hundred times by the echo of the vast space. Rarity jumped, but everypony else just looked down at their boss.

“Work’s done, earthworms! Time to go home!” Whistle Tone shouted, his voice almost as loud as the horn.

In a loud rustle of hooves, the workers started wrapping up their tools and equipment, and flooded out the cave, eager to be the first to arrive at the elevator and be the first to hug their family.

Only one pony remained; the mare with the short mane, which Rarity had mistaken for a stallion. “Boss, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Roselite. Meet my friend—or, well, acquaintance, Rarity Belle.”

Roselite stuck out a hoof. “Good to meet you, Rarity.”

There was a second of doubt whether or not Rarity was going to shake Roselite’s dusty and muddy hoof, but decided to do it—for the sake of good manners.

“Roselite here registers all of the minerals we dig up,” Whistle Tone explained. “She then categorizes them according to the color, hardness, transparency, weight, and possible uses. Recently, we—“

“We discovered a couple o’ rocks we just couldn’t crack.” Roselite said, interrupting her boss. “They’re really awesome. You know, we didn’t know what they were, so we had to come up with a cool name but, you know, us miner folks aren’t that creative I’m afraid. I’ll show them to ya. Perhaps you’ll be able to come up with somethin’.”

Then Roselite turned around and walked towards her workstation; a table strewn with minerals, magnifying glasses, boxes, paper, and more minerals. Rarity and Whistle Tone followed.

“Here they are,” Roselite said. After fumbling for a minute in one of the many crates, she revealed two minerals and placed them on the table. They weren’t even that big; just slightly bigger than a buckball. They looked really crude, like a work of art from a student who had never before touched the actual materials.

“I’m really sorry for the shape, Rarity,” Roselite said, “but we just couldn’t cut or shave the darn things.”

Rarity took one of the crystals off the table; it was colored a pale pink. She felt the weight of it in her hooves, and only needed to cast one single glance at it to know that this would be the one. This would be the crystal which would free Fluttershy from Middle Earth. This would be the crystal that would save her friend.

And, as if fate played a trick on Rarity, the other crystal was a different color; a light yellow.

“I really don’t know why they’re different colors, you know,” Roselite said, picking the other crystal up and tossing it in the air a few times. “Maybe they’re different kinds, although their hardness is the same.”

But Rarity didn’t care, she just looked at the yellow crystal sailing through the air.

Then Whistle Tone stuck out his hoof, snagged the yellow mineral out of the air, and handed it to Rarity. “So what do you think, Miss Rarity? Are these the crystals you seek? They do seem to accommodate to all the specifics prince Shining Armor has shown me.”

“Yes,” Rarity said, picking up the other crystal and turning it over in her hooves. “These will do.”

Whistle Tone clopped his hooves together. “That’s great, then we can go back and—“

“But what about the name?”

Rarity looked up at Roselite. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you gotta think of an awesome name for the crystals. Crystals without a name bring bad luck.”

“I see.” Rarity frowned in thought. “What about… Flutterite?”

“What? That’s a ridiculous name,” Roselite said. “I mean, the things aren’t exactly fluttering, as I’ve just demonstrated you. But, you know, whatever makes you happy…”

And with that, Roselite grabbed an organizer, flipped it open to a table, and jotted down underneath ‘name,’ ‘Flutterite.’

“There, done.” She closed the organizer and put it back. “Can I go home now, Boss?”

“You sure can, Roselite. I’ll see you next—“

“Alright. Bye Boss! Bye Rarity!”

And before anypony could say anything, Roselite had already disappeared through the tunnel.

With a smile on his face, Whistle Tone turned to the two minerals. “Allow me,” he said, and slipped them in his saddlebags.

Together they walked back through the tunnel towards the elevator. They didn’t speak, and in the silence, Rarity thought about Fluttershy and about the rest of her friends, who were probably also very busy with their own quests. Then, a smile appeared on Rarity’s face, and she looked behind her at the big chamber of the mine, now nothing more than a lantern-lit speck in the distance. If everypony else has that much fortune on their quests, Rarity thought, then Fluttershy will be back in the blink of an eye. I wonder how they are doing… emb%[0c=9

Chapter ten: Garble, Garble, and executioner

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“Alright, Rainbow Dash. A little higher. A little… higher. Good, now stand still.”

Spike was balancing on Rainbow Dash’s back, doing his best to stay balanced despite the chain wrapped around his arms. Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, stretched herself in a weird posture so Spike could reach the lock.

“Are you done already?” Rainbow Dash said, her voice indicating that she could probably not stretch herself this way for long.

A rattling and a few little clicks were the only answers Dash got. Spike’s forked tongue hung out of his mouth as he fumbled with his claw in the lock as a worm would wriggle around in the dirt.

Even though their eyes got used to the dark and they were able to see some things, the darkness still pressed upon them. An endless, disorienting darkness, which took away every sense of place and every sense of time. Neither Rainbow Dash nor Spike had any idea how long they’d been imprisoned. But at the moment, neither of them cared, as they could practically smell the free air, even though it would be mingled with a sulfuric stench.

It was Spike who had come up with the idea. According to him, it could work. And Rainbow Dash, who served as a step-up, had skeptically agreed, but was now amazed by her flexibility.

Spike felt the tumblers between his thin claw. It was good he hadn’t yet gotten his growth-spurt, for his claw fitted exactly into the lock, as if it were made for it.

One down.

“Spike, I don’t think I can hold on for much longer.”

Two down.

“Spike!” Dash’s legs wobbled.

Three down.

“SPIKE!”

Click.

Rainbow Dash crashed to the ground, and pony and dragon lay on top of each other in a sad little heap.

Rainbow Dash jumped back on her hooves. “You better have done the job, Spike.”

“Yup,” Spike said, getting up as well. “No prison can hold Spike the dragon for long.”

“Well, it has been long enough,” Dash said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They opened the cell door as silently as they could, but gritted their teeth at the screeching sound it made. Rainbow Dash took the lead, while Spike cantered behind.

They both hadn’t thought about the other door they would possibly have to lock-pick their way through. It looked thick and impenetrable, made of heavy wood and heavier iron. But, luckily for them, the door proved to be unlocked.

“Nice!” Rainbow Dash said with a smile, as she opened the door with her head.

But that smile turned upside down in the blink of an eye, as they walked straight into Garble’s open arms.

“Hello there, my little prisoners,” he said, grabbing Rainbow Dash with one arm, while scooping Spike off the floor with another. “You just couldn’t wait to get your trial now, could you?” He let out a snicker, which echoed through the hallway and up the stairs.

Spike and Rainbow Dash were too startled to say anything, as they looked at the great red dragon, flanked by two of his soldiers.

They didn’t even need to say anything, as the party started moving up the stairs. Garble laughed with every step. “You should have seen your faces. I bet you guys could smell the freedom. But you know what? Even if you could have gotten out of the castle, there’s still a whole city full of dragons to navigate through—dragons loyal to ME!”

Even though Garble’s iron grip forced most of her breath out her lungs, Rainbow Dash spoke up. “How did you—“

“How did I know you were escaping?” Garble said, imitating Dash’s high, rough voice. “I’m glad you asked, Miss Puny Pony, because, you know, you have such a lovely and loud voice which I just love to copy.”

It took her a couple of seconds before Dash realized what Garble meant. If her hooves weren’t bound, she would probably have slapped herself over the head.

But she decided to let that mistake fly, and focused on more important things: surviving. Just like Daring Do did in her books, Dash did her best to avert her gaze from the burning torches, so as to try and keep her night-vision as good as possible. Rainbow Dash tried to take in every detail of the castle and make a mental map of the place. At the first possible opportunity, she would fly away, if only those terrible chains would be loose.

They passed through yet another door, and entered a stone hallway. It was lined with blood-red curtains, and seemed to be endless. It was only gloomily lit by a couple of wall sconces, which gave the place a hellish look. Once more, Rainbow Dash looked at the ground at the red carpet which looked as if it absorbed all light. She heard a door creak, and then her hopes of retaining some degree of night-vision shattered, as light flooded over her.

A hurricane of dragon voices greeted them, and the party walked inside. Dozens and dozens of dragons were sitting, standing, or hovering in an enormous hall. It had obviously been a theater, as there was a big stage in the middle, made of rough-hewn stone. On the balconies and on the rows of seats, dragons raised their fists into the air, shouting obscene words, curses, or cheers through the hall. Some of them belched a cluster of flames into the air in enthusiasm, looking forward to the trial of the two intruders.

Suddenly, a couple of large stone-dragons, obviously the ones with the loudest voice, started yelling and repeating the same word over and over again.

“Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

Soon the others joined in, and their collective snarls and roars made the courtroom tremble.

“GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTY!”

At the end of the walkway, there were a couple of seats clustered on the stage. One was high, and showed a tattered flag with a stylistic image of Garble’s face, underlined with flames. Opposite of the high seat were two other, lower benches, which didn’t look more comfortable than the high one. And finally there was one more next to the high seat, looking out on the public.

Garble stopped, turned, and flung his two prisoners right on top of the small bench. He snarled an order to his two soldiers, which started to unfasten Dash’s and Spike’s chains. With a sigh of relief, they rubbed their forelegs, arms, and backs, sore from the contact with the cold hard metal. But their chances of escape were quickly minimized, as the dragons chained them both to the stone table—one shackle at the time.

Garble himself trotted to the middle of the stage, and faced the crowd with a grin.

“Dragons of Garble’s Kingdom! I bid thee welcome!”

An explosion of cheers rumbled through the hall. Fists and heads were thrown into the air.

Garble smiled as he felt every dragon’s rage, passion, and attention lying on top of him like a warm, snug blanket.

“Today we have gathered for something very common. You know what that is?”

“TRIAL! TRIAL! TRIAL!” the voices boomed.

“Yes,” Garble said. “A very common trial with very uncommon ‘guests.’” His voice made a strange sound at the mention of that last word.

All of the dragons looked at Rainbow Dash and Spike, but probably more at Dash than at the dragon. Dash felt their murderous stares sting her, and for a moment, she could feel herself tremble and her gaze wandering to the ground. Never before had she felt such collective despise in so many stares. Rainbow Dash felt like she had just made a painful blunder in a competition, and all of the attendees were stare her down in shame. Unfortunately for Rainbow Dash, however, this was a whole other kind of competition—with the stakes being life or death.

Spike felt the same; this was exactly what he wasn’t hoping for. He had expected to meet Garble again, but never like this. He tried to make eye-contact with Rainbow Dash, hoping to find some spirit in the brash pegasus’s rose eyes. But Rainbow Dash had hung her head, and Spike felt all his grit drain away.

Garble made a small pirouette and pointed to his captives. “This here is Spike the dragon, a, let’s say, acquaintance of mine.”

The dragons in the crowd laughed and pointed, their sharp claws gleaming in the torchlight.

“And this here,” Garble continued, “is Missus—“ he paused. “Missus… eh… Yes, what is your name anyway, pony? Don’t leave me hanging here, this is getting really awkward.”

Rainbow Dash could have refused, but what would be the point of that? “Rainbow Dash,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Rainbow Dash!” Garble shouted with obvious delight.

A burst of laughter rolled through the crowd. Some dragons fell off their seats while pointing at the rainbow-maned pegasus down below.

“Isn’t she a pretty pony,” Garble said, tickling Rainbow Dash under her chin. Dash jerked her head away. “Whoa, and a spirited one at that. Well, we know how to tame dragons, so we’ll definitely know how to get this little pony on her knees, won’t we?”

Once more, the crowd cheered and laughed. One of them started shouting ‘guilty,’ and was soon followed by the rest of the hall.

“GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY!”

Garble skipped back to the middle of the stage. “Whoa, whoa now. Not so fast everyone. Remember: every dragon—or everypony—is presumed innocent until proven otherwise. I am a fair ruler and will personally make sure that this whole trial will be done in the fairest way possible. Isn’t that noble and honest?”

Now the crowd of dragons was finally sort-of silent. Some shuffled on their seats; others wondered whether they should shout something mean. But then they remembered who was standing on the stage, and a hesitant cheer came out of their mouths.

Rainbow Dash and Spike looked each other in the eyes, almost simultaneously. Both of their faces were etched with doubt about the ‘fairness’ Garble announced.

“What’s the matter?” Garble said to the crowd, his voice concerned, but his tone dripping with venom. “Aren’t you happy? You know what? I know something to cheer you guys up. In accordance with my ‘fair trial’ politics, I will not be the judge for this case.”

Now the crowd was totally silent. Spike could smell the confusion in the air. Did Dragon-Lord Garble go mad? Was he giving up his reign? What was happening?”

But Garble stood unmoved, a sly smile curling his scarred lips. “Instead, let’s hear it for Chain Link, the first non-Garble judge!”

Then, the cheering, the enthusiasm, and the laughter returned tenfold. All dragons were waving their claws into the air, knowing that with Chain Link as a judge, they would be in for a show.

There he was, standing in a corner, unseen. A shadow shifted, revealing the figure of Chain Link against the light of the torches. He still wore his worn cloak and the chains around his neck, looking as if they would crush any other dragon who would wear them. He started walking, shuffling, towards the stage, the chains rattling around him. In every row of seats he passed, the dragons grew silent for a moment, as if an aura of reverence surrounded the old dragon. His single, gleaming eye shone from underneath his hood, looking first to Garble, then to the pony and the baby dragon, and then to the high seat. Without a word, he climbed the cobblestone steps and sat down, letting his eye scan the crowd as if he were going to judge them all this day.

Garble almost danced as he walked towards the remaining empty seat. He jumped onto his bottom, and looked expectantly towards Chain Link, as if he were a schoolboy eager to get his marks, knowing that he did well.

Chain Link placed both claws slowly on either end of the stone table before him. With a voice as cold as a deep dark grave, he said, “Let the trial begin.”

The crowd went wild. They knew they had to be silent, but nevertheless, all dragons shouted and let out their hatred and passion and energy for a few more minutes before the trial could actually begin. Strangely enough, the sound suddenly died down; Chain Link didn’t even need to use the stone hammer at his side.

Rainbow Dash and Spike shifted on their seats, their chains rattling against their legs. They looked at each other, and could see the worry in their faces. They both knew and realized that if they would want to escape, they would have to bring their a-game in this trial; there was no other way.

Chain Link’s white slit-eye moved from Garble to the crowd, to Rainbow Dash and Spike, and finally to a small pile of stone tablets in front of him. There, the eye moved back and forth, as he started reading the letters engraved on the tablets. There was still silence. The only sound that broke it was the occasional burp or flap of dragon wings. Finally, Chain Link straightened his back, bent over, and spoke.

“Rainbow Dash the pegasus and Spike the dragon. You have been charged with treason, trespassing, assault, and fleeing a crime scene. How do you plead?”

Silence again. The cold voice of Chain Link felt as if it sucked all the grit out of Dash’s and Spike’s bodies. With all the will in Equestria, Rainbow Dash stopped looking at the dragon’s white eye and nudged Spike. “What should we—“

“Not guilty,” Spike said.

Garble leaned back and rested his feet on the table in front of him. “Naturally.”

Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “Wait… How did you know what to say? Do you have experience with court cases?”

“Eh… Sort of,” Spike said, aiming his gaze at the ground for a second. “You know, I did once try to destroy Ponyville after I got a teensy weensy bit gigantic and greedy. There was a short trial after that, but I kind of kept it a secret to as many ponies as I could.” He bit his lip. “Until now.”

With those words came the realization that Spike would be their only hope, and Rainbow Dash looked at him as if she saw the baby dragon for the first time. “So what more do you know?”

“Well…” Spike jumped up on his seat, which was way too big for him, and looked Chain Link into the eye. “I would like to request a lawyer to speak on my behalf.”

Chain Link said nothing, and if he would be going to say something, he would get interrupted by Garble anyway, who held his stomach in a burst of laughter.

“Haha! You’re such a rookie, Spike. Did those ponies teach you to let anyone else speak for you? Here in the Dragon Lands, we can fight for ourselves. We can defend ourselves just fine without lawyers.”

On the high seat, Chain Link waved a claw in the air. “No. According to Equestrian law, you are permitted to be represented by a lawyer. You are from Equestria, so you may choose your lawyer.”

Spike turned around. “Is there anyone here willing to defend the life of an innocent fellow dragon?”

He did use the right words, which were heavy and formal, but it didn’t matter at all. Garble’s voice heralded another burst of laughter, spreading through the courtroom as if it were contagious. The dragons in the courtroom laughed and pointed. Perhaps when the crowd would have consisted of other dragons would one or two step up and defend Spike. But clearly these dragons were loyal to Garble, and shared his hatred and attitude to the bone. And besides, no dragon right in his mind would want to defend Rainbow Dash; a pegasus; an outlander; an outcast in their lands.

“And I don’t need a lawyer, thank you very much,” Garble said, flicking his claw as if he were shooing off an annoying cat.

“Very well.” Chain Link pointed a jagged claw towards Garble. “The prosecutor may explain the case.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Garble said. With a single agile jump, he stood straight and noble on the stage. He paced up and down, but actually he didn’t need to think about words to say; it was all just for show—and he was the star.

“These two criminals, especially the purple one over there”—He stabbed a claw at Spike—“have been a thorn in my eye for a very long time. Once I thought Spike was one of ours; a dragon living by the dragon code of toughness, awesomeness, ruthlessness, and conquest. But then he betrayed me, at the most crucial and vital moment, and ran away like the coward he is with his pony friends.” Garble paused, and faced the crowd. “Now I know what you’re thinking; isn’t dealing with ponies highly illegal? Well, it is. But you know what? I’m going to let that little fact slip off my scales. If he wants to live his life in pure pansyness, I’ll let him. Now how’s that for being forgiving and just, huh?”

An applause went through the crowd, accompanied by the rumbling of clawed feet on the floor. But when Garble motioned with his claw for silence, the crowd obeyed immediately.

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash jolted up, and opened her mouth to speak. But Spike quickly jumped and placed a claw over her muzzle. “Don’t interrupt!” he whispered. “We’ll get our chance to speak.”

Dash looked at Spike with a frown, but did what he said; he was the one with the experience after all.

Garble twirled around, but made sure to keep both the crowd and the defendants in his eyes. “Alright, now for the second crime: trespassing. In accordance with the dragon laws, which I made myself and of which I’m more than proud, no living being is allowed to wander our beautiful wastelands without seeking the approval of the great leader—that’s me—first. And, let’s not forget that those laws account for dragons. Ponies, on the other claw, are banned from entering the Dragon Lands, especially flying ones. I mean, look at her.” He pointed at Dash with a scowl. “She would probably fly way too fast and disrupt our aerial military drills. We wouldn’t want our beautiful skies to get polluted by all kinds of flying trash now, would we?”

While the crowd nodded or shouted words in agreement, Rainbow Dash gritted her teeth. She wanted to shout, yell, fly up and kick that dragon’s scaly ass. From all the insults she’d heard, she thought that ‘Rainbow Crash’ would be the worst. But at hearing these words of utter disrespect, she felt a fire as hot as the flames these oversized lizards belched burn in her stomach. Spike put a claw on Dash’s shoulder. “We’ll get our chance, Rainbow Dash. We’ll show them. Just hold still for now.”

Garble folded his claws over his chest. “Right,” he said with a smile; he was obviously enjoying this. “Third offence—and boy, what an offense it was—assault. Now, your honor, while a small dragon party and I went towards the presumed location of the trespassers, we found them, and tried to arrest them. But after a miniscule, tiny little warning shot, that blue pony over there launched itself at me, obviously intending to hurt me, or—“ he paused to summon the dramatic effect “—kill me!”

Every dragon in the hall gasped—every dragon except for Spike and Chain Link.

“I know,” Garble said. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? Her first murder, at such a young age.” He looked at Rainbow Dash with a pitiable pout, seasoned with fakeness. “It would almost make me cry—almost.”

Now the crowd showed their best fake sniffs and sobs, although some of them couldn’t withhold their laughter.

“And after this attempt at murder,” Garble said, stabbing a claw into the air. “She saw that I was obviously way too strong and awesome for her, which is just common sense. Without so much as a second glance, she bolted off with her pesky little dragon friend, were it not for Chain Link, who used his invaluable and awe-inspiring skills to capture this fleeing outlaw.” At the mention of Chain Link, Garble nodded towards him, but Chain Link showed no reaction. Garble cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, that was the fourth offense: fleeing a crime scene, and thereby fleeing the claw of the law. But luckily, the claw of the law really is long, and made of cold-heart scales and with an iron grip. We got them. I have spoken.” And with a little content grin at that last colorful improvisation, Garble jumped over the table and onto his seat, taking his leisurely pose.

“Very well,” Chain Link said. He grabbed a stone tablet and scribbled a few letters down with his curled claw. The sound sent shivers up Dash’s and Spike’s spines. Then he put down the tablet, and leaned over to the pegasus and the baby dragon, as if he wouldn’t understand them otherwise. “The defendants may testify.”

Rainbow Dash and Spike exchanged looks. As much as Rainbow Dash wanted to say the things that were on her mind—especially things related to Garble—she realized that it would be wiser to let Spike do most of the talking. Thus, Spike nodded, and stood on top of his chair. Of course he felt nervous, but somehow, he had the feeling that Chain Link would indeed be an honest judge, even though he looked as if he were made out of stone. Spike thought that he and Rainbow Dash would have a better chance of getting out of this courthouse with Chain Link, rather than with Garble. Spike swallowed, but forced himself to look at the single milky eye.

“Your honor. I shall tell you how events came to pass.” There was a slight quaver in Spike’s voice, but he swallowed it away. “You see, we have come here to the Dragon Lands on a quest. We need to have parts for a teleportation machine to rebuild it, because our friend—“

But he was cut short by a hard nudge from Rainbow Dash. Spike turned towards her, rubbing his arm. “We shouldn’t tell them everything,” Rainbow Dash said, her voice tuned down to a whisper. “Especially not about the disappearance of a certain somepony.”

At first, Spike didn’t understand, and his eyes darted around. Rainbow Dash gestured with her head to her flank. Spike looked, saw her cutie mark, and then realized exactly what Dash meant. If the dragons would know that one element of harmony was missing, they would know that Equestria was weakened. Perhaps they would lock him and Dash back up and spend their energy on assembling their armies instead. Perhaps they would march upon Equestria, pillaging and raiding every settlement of the ponies. “Yes, let’s not say too much,” Spike whispered. “And besides, we haven’t sworn the oath yet.”

The crowd became restless, probably wondering whether the trial was over yet; or perhaps wondering if the defendants had lost their tongues in fear.

But Spike cleared his throat, and continued his tale. “So we needed parts. That’s all. We came to the Dragon Lands by boat, and we were actually trying to find the capital city and the throne of Dragon-Lady Ember.” But the moment Spike said that, he regretted those words. He quickly continued talking, trying to talk over that little mistake. “I mean, the eh… the current dragon on the throne. We were trying to ask for permission, your honor. After that, we were going to ask for the fabrication of the parts, and ship them back home to Equestria. Simple as pie.”

“Yeah, sure,” Garble said, so softly that Chain Link wouldn’t hear it. But Rainbow Dash’s ear turned in that direction, and she heard it just fine. The venomous mocking tone made a bomb go off in her head. Suddenly, she flapped her wings and hovered in the air, the chain clinking violently. “IT’S THE TRUTH!” she shouted. “We WERE just going to get parts, until your personal army of oversized snakes jumped in front of our noses!”

“So what? You got a warning first!” Garble shouted back.

“You just sprang out of your cowardly hiding places and nearly clipped my wing with a crossbow bolt! I don’t call that a warning shot, Garble!”

“Nearly, not quite,” Garble countered. “So it was a warning shot!”

“ORDER!”

Chain Link’s voice was at the same time loud and sharp, cutting through the argument like a white-hot knife. Everyone went silent. One of the dragons in the crowd dropped a toothpick, and you could hear it falling on the ground. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Chain Link sat straight and looked from Garble to Dash and Spike; from Dash and Spike to Garble. Then he sighed like a chilly breeze. “Two different stories. Two different versions. I do not know who speaks the truth, but I have my suspicions. I say we call our witnesses, and shed further light on this case. Dragon-Lord Garble, you may call your witnesses and cross-examine them.”

“With pleasure,” Garble said. After throwing one more deadly glance at Rainbow Dash, he turned to face the crowd. “Boulder Bash! Shinedown! Get your slithery asses in that seat!”

From one corner of the hall came shouts and calls. A few dragons shuffled aside, and in a matter of minutes, Boulder Bash and Shinedown got pushed onto the stage. They walked towards the seat next to the judge, their steps a far cry from Garble’s enthusiastic gait, and sat down.

Chain Link eyed the two for a few seconds, looking as if he tried to taste their anxiety. “The prosecutor may proceed to examine the witnesses.”

Garble walked over to Shinedown, and leaned on his desk, treating it like a bar with drinks. “My dear Shinedown, would you please share with us your experiences regarding these two individuals over there?”

Shinedown shifted in his seat, not knowing where to look. “I eh… I was just patrolling the skies, as I always do, and then I… eh… I spotted them—the pony and the pipsqueak I mean. And then I signaled with my scales. And then Boulder Bash made a small rock avalanche to alert the high guard. And then you arrived with the army, Garble—eh, Dragon-Lord Garble I mean.”

“Very well,” Garble said, trying to sound calm even though Shinedown was both a terrible storyteller and once again forgetting his proper title. He slid towards Boulder Bash, tracing grooves in the stone with his claw. “And my dear Boulder Bash, what happened when we politely asked our friends here to halt and throw their claws—or hooves—up in the air?”

“But you didn’t—“

Garble’s fist shot out, jabbed Bash against the throat, and retracted faster than the eye could see. The brute reached for his throat, doubling over in pain. He wanted to yell, but the pain flared like a red-hot cork in his windpipe, and the only thing that came from his mouth was a gurgling sound.

“And my dear Boulder Bash, what happened when we politely asked our friends here to halt and throw their claws—or hooves—up in the air?” Garble said again, using the exact same words, but now they had an even sharper edge of false politeness.

For a minute, everything Boulder Bash could do was gargle, but he knew he had to say something quickly. Determined not to make the same mistake twice, he decided to say as little as possible. “The blue pony attacked you,” he said between wheezes. “Then she flew away.”

Garble spun around on his heels, his arms outstretched. “See? Different dragons, same story. Everything falls into place, just the way it’s supposed to be. I have nothing more to ask them.”

Chain Link nodded; his eye blinked. “Very well. The defendants may choose witnesses and cross-examine them.”

“This is bad,” Spike said to Rainbow Dash. “Those dragons are all lying; they’re all loyal to Garble. We don’t have any witnesses ourselves, and those dragons are not going to help us.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “But isn’t there something we can do? Can’t you work your lawyer magic or something?”

This was hardly the time for jokes, but Spike realized that Dash was right; he had to make the best of it. He had to trust in his own skills.

But then, Rainbow Dash veered up. She had to buy some time so Spike could think of something, and might as well make that time useful. “But before you’re gonna say anything, I would like to know one thing myself.” She stood up. “I call Garble as my witness.”

For a brief second Garble actually looked surprised, but then his showman’s mask slid before his face again, and he gave Dash a sneer. “Sure, ask away.”

“I wanna know what the hay happened to this land, AND I want to know what happened with Ember!”

Garble jolted as if the words stung him. He glanced around the hall, then finally at Chain Link. “Your honor, that story is both irrelevant and unnecessary, which I’m pretty sure are the same things. How I came to power has no connection with this case, and neither has the fate of Ember. I suggest you—“

“The pegasus asked you a question,” Chain Link said in his deep, droning voice. “Answer.”

“Yeah, come on, Dragon-Lord! We all love that story,” one dragon shouted from the crowd. “Tell us!”

And then, the others joined in and together they called, “TELL US! TELL US! TELL US!”

“FINE!” Garble flapped his wings, made a small circle in the air, and then landed right in the middle of the stage, the stone cracking underneath his claws. “You want the history of Garble’s Kingdom? You’ll get it.” He cleared his throat; two small flames fled through his nostrils. He forced his voice to calm down, as he knew that this performance was both well-known and well-loved. Here we go.

“So there I was, Dragon-Lord Garble, but not quite Dragon-Lord at that time. I was alone on the streets—cloaked in shame and humiliation. Never had my level of awesomeness been that low. Never had my health been worse. With sad eyes I had to watch Ember rise to the throne, taking the place of our great former Dragon-Lord Torch. It pained me to see what Ember did with her power, and how she abused it. It pained me to see how Ember threw the dragon code away into the great fiery pit, and our self-respect and pride with it.” A tear rolled down Garble’s cheeks, but it evaporated before it could touch the ground. “Some plans of the new politics were terrible—well, actually all of the new political plans were terrible, as many of you would agree. Our once glorious raids and attacks dwindled, until at last they diminished. And what did we get in return? TRADE. For centuries we took what we needed with our awesome strength and power, and now we had to give in our pride, pretend to be friendly traders, put on a false mask, and gain our goods honestly?”

Some dragons started crying as well; others started to boo or spit fire in frustration.

But Garble wasn’t done yet. “But the fact that really disgusted me; the fact that made me throw up at least twice a day, were Ember’s ‘friendship politics.’” Garble clutched his stomach and gagged; a few ashy clouds escaped his mouth. “First we had to pretend we were friendly with our former victims, and now we had to actually be friends with them? Allow their weak tribes and people to coexist and be protected against our power? I saw that moment that their weakness was contagious, and that, if we would be ‘friends’ with them, we would grow weaker too, until there would be nothing left of our great culture and traditions—especially the dragon code. I knew in my heart that Ember’s friendship politics would never work; they were way too unrealistic. Friendship isn’t in our blood—rage and passion and fury is in our blood. DRAGON’S DON’T DO FRIENDSHIP!”

The crowd agreed, screaming and yelling and repeating Garble’s words. Teeth and fangs glowed and glittered, and they looked about ready to go to war; they wouldn’t even need weapons or armor.

“But the last and final politics which ignited the flames of my glorious revolution were… ponies. Let me not waste too many words over this matter, for I am getting nauseous just letting the words out of my mouth. Ember… wanted… to be friends… with… PONIES!”

Another wave of rage from the crows. Some dragons stood up as if they wanted to walk to the stage and strangle Rainbow Dash with their bare claws.

“Can you believe it?” Garble continued. “Making friends with the puniest, weakest, most ridiculous race in all of Equestria? Well, I couldn’t, and still can’t. And that, my dear subjects, is how the revolution started. I gathered a force of sympathizers, and marched towards the Castle of the Dragon-Lords. The guards were no match for us. In fact, as soon as they realized what I was doing, they joined me, seeing the nobleness of my deed. We stormed the castle like the storm that raged outside that day, fueling our anger and power. At last, I reached the throne hall, where former Dragon-Lord Torch and Ember were, the Bloodstone Scepter in her claws. As soon as I entered that hall, I felt the Bloodstone Scepter call me. I felt its power already surging through my boiling veins. The only thing I had to do was reach out and grab it.

“But they wouldn’t let me. I had expected Ember to defy me, but not former Dragon-Lord Torch. I tried to reason with him; tried to show him the truth and righteousness of my intentions, but unfortunately, he decided not to follow me, and to this day it still hurts my heart when I think about how I had to destroy him.”

Spike and Rainbow Dash gasped; the rest of the hall was silent. This was their favorite part.

“The battle was long and fierce; terrible and intense. Sparks and fire flew through the air, adding only more rage to the storm outside. From miles away, flashes of light and dragon fire could be seen from the direction of Garble Gorge, and women and children retreated in their homes and locked the doors, scared of the outcome of the battle.

“But they didn’t need to fear anything, for I was victorious. At the break of dawn, a blood-red dawn heralding a new beginning, I stood on former Dragon-Lord Torch’s charred bones, gazing down on his daughter, who lay in a puddle of her own tears. But there was no time for mercy. She saw that her father was dead, she saw that the Dragon Lands had a new leader, and perhaps she even saw my righteous mission. So, out of her own free will, she handed me the Bloodstone Scepter, ready to be used by a real, genuine Dragon-Lord. A Dragon-Lord true to the dragon code. A Dragon-Lord which will make the Dragon Lands great again, and the race of the dragons glorious and rich, as we are meant to be!”

Garble’s story came at an end. The dragons in the crowd gave a formal applause, their claws clicking against each other and their feet stomping on the ground. Some of them blinked away tears—the smaller ones did.

Now Spike and Rainbow Dash had gotten what they wanted; an answer to their questions; the reason why the Dragon Lands were as they were. But they both wondered whether it would have been better not to know, as Garble’s story smashed all hope they had left. They knew they weren’t going to get the parts; they knew they were not going to get out of here alive. With Garble on the throne, all was lost.

Rainbow Dash blinked, her eyes now watery despite the dryness of the air and the oppressive heat of the room. Spike blinked away a tear. Desperation ruled their minds.

Garble made a pirouette, bowed to the crowd, and then turned to Chain Link. “So, how did I do?”

Chain Link swayed a bit; his chains rattled. “Do the defendants wish to cross-examine more witnesses?”

But Rainbow Dash and Spike were at a loss for words. They were still processing all the horrible things Garble had said. It seemed unreal to them. Even though Garble had told everyone in the hall loud and clearly, they were still wondering how in Equestria this had happened. It seemed unreal to them, as if they weren’t actually here, in a trial, pleading for their lives.

But then the picture of Fluttershy flashed before their eyes. They had to live—for Fluttershy. They had to find a way out of here. Perhaps, once they were free, they could search for a blacksmith who wasn’t loyal to Garble’s regime. Surely there must be some kind of resistance. Surely not every dragon would share the same ideas as Garble. Spike shook his head. They had to get out of here. He took a moment to recompose himself, going by every step of the trial that had passed, and every step which still had to be taken in order to finish it. He looked at the seat with the witnesses: Shinedown and Boulder Bash. Then he looked at Chain Link. “I wish to cross-examine the witnesses.”

Chain Link nodded.

“Mister Shinedown,” Spike said, although he would rather skip the formalities and call him something mean, “may I ask you a question?”

Shinedown grinned. Against a tiny dragon like Spike, he suddenly looked much more confident. “Sure thing, pipsqueak.”

Spike chose to ignore the insult, but still he frowned. “The prosecutor, Dragon-Lord Garble, has accused Rainbow Dash of reckless flying through dragon airspace without the permission of the Dragon-Lord. What is your position in the Dragon-Lord’s army, if I may ask?”

“I’m a scout,” Shinedown said. “The finest aerial scout and watchdragon around.”

“I see.” Spike rubbed his chin with his claw. “So you have to fly a lot, and look for suspicious things in the kingdom, I presume.”

“Indeed.”

“Then you go wherever you want, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And I don’t presume that you have to ask the Dragon-Lord permission when you fly somewhere, do you?”

Shinedown’s eyes lost contact with Spike’s for a second. He threw a glance at Garble, and saw him tracing his claw across his neck in a threatening gesture.

“I… eh… I don’t.”

Yes, Spike thought. I got him. “If you can go and fly wherever you want, then why does Rainbow Dash need to ask special permission to Garble when you don’t have to? Isn’t that a little bit unfair, since we’re talking about the same airspace in the same land, and we’re both talking about flying races?”

For a moment, Shinedown looked lost, but then he found his voice once more. He pierced his gaze against Spike’s. “I don’t have to ask Garble permission, pipsqueak, because I’m a part of his army. If your Raincow Lash wants to fly around in our airspace, she would have to join Garble’s army as well.” He let out a sharp snicker. “She would be a wonderful addition to the force, if I say so myself.”

Then Spike felt the hope sink to his toes. He felt himself blush in shame. He looked at Rainbow Dash, who looked back at him as if she were saying, ‘you sure you know what you’re doing?’

A low grumble came from the judge’s seat. “Do you wish to question any more witnesses, Spike the dragon?”

Spike knew he had to. He had to at least try. As he turned his gaze towards the gigantic Boulder Bash, his mind raced as fast as an adrenaline-filled pegasus.

“You gonna say something or what?” Boulder Bash said. His voice was loud and angry, as if he would rather eat the baby dragon right now.

Then, Spike’s eyes flared up with a sudden idea. “Mister Bash, if I can call you that, you saw that Rainbow Dash and I got ‘arrested’ by Dragon-Lord Garble, as you were a member of the party that carried out the task. Am I correct?”

“Yup,” Boulder Bash said, as he started picking his teeth.

“And of course you saw Dash’s reaction to the holdup, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Bash said again.

“Good.” Spike actually smiled. “Now Rainbow Dash here, she got startled after seeing so many dragons advance on her at once. I’m sure she felt more than a little intimidated, didn’t you, Rainbow Dash?”

Dash’s first reaction was to say ‘no’ of course, but she kept her words at bay, and swallowed her pride—just this one time. “Yes,” Rainbow said, putting on her best, most pitiful Fluttershy-look. “They were scary.”

“Right,” Spike said. Now he was actually smiling at Rainbow’s silly face. “Now, Mister Bash, what would you do when a band of menacing-looking dragons, armed to the teeth, would corner you with obvious hostile intentions?”

Boulder Bash laughed. “Ha! That’s easy! I would have fought till the death, crushing each and every dragon’s skull until I would drop to the ground.”

“Okay. And, according to dragon law, would that be considered a foul deed?”

“Of course not,” Boulder Bash said. “We have the right to defend ourselves when threatened. That is my favorite right, you know, and the right I use the most. Well, actually—“ Bash frowned in thought—“actually it is the only right I can remember.”

“I see. And what did Rainbow Dash do during her arrest?”

“Duh. She fought. If you could have called it fighting. It looked more like the buck of a dumbass ass.”

“So she defended herself.”

Then, Boulder Bash realized his mistake. His eyes flashed from side to side. In the corner of his eye, he saw Garble; the Dragon-Lord was about ready to explode.

“Thank you, your honor, I’ve said enough.” Spike looked at Rainbow Dash with a smile on his face, and Dash smiled back while giving him a hoofbump, celebrating the first good point they’d made.

Chain Link folded his claws together. “Very well. I have heard enough. The trial is over.”

Once again, Rainbow Dash and Spike exchanged glances. They knew that this was the moment. It was time for the judge to plead them innocent or guilty, and to determine their punishment, would they be found guilty. Both Spike and Dash were sweating, but it was not because of the heat. They turned their heads towards Chain Link, gathering all the hope and positive thoughts they could.

Garble just sat there, his arms crossed, a smile on his face. He knew what would happen; he had nothing to fear. Garble breathed in, and began blowing smoke-rings, which drifted over the stage and up in the air, before finally dissolving against the chandeliers.

Even the crowd was silent. Every dragon was on the edge of his seat. They too, knew what would probably happen, but they still liked the sound of Chain Link’s voice when he said that one magical word.

Chain Link breathed in, breathed out. An ashy grey cloud of fine dust and soot formed before his hood. His milky eye gleamed. Then, Chain Link unfolded his claws, and started using one to wave away the dust cloud, almost as if he were drawing in the air. Dash and Spike could hear him grumbling and whispering. The cloud became thinner and thinner, cut into tiny lines and wisps by the curved claw. Then, it suddenly dissolved, and retreated as if it were scared of the dragon’s curled, jagged claw and its icy touch.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is he gonna say something?” she whispered.

Spike said nothing, but looked at the high judge’s seat, his eyes glittering.

Everyone was silent. Everyone was expecting. Even the chains around Chain Link’s neck stopped rattling, as the dragon swayed slowly from side to side.

“Hmm…”

The sound was indistinguishable; a mere grunt like cracking stone.

“My verdict…”

Spike and Dash and all the other dragons except Garble leaned forward.

Chain Link breathed in and out; his words drifted on the cold airstream. “I hereby declare Spike the dragon and Rainbow Dash the pegasus guilty of their crimes. I hereby sentence them both to death. The sentence is to be carried out tomorrow at the break of dawn.”

And with a knock of his stone hammer, the trial was over.

Chapter eleven: the darkness spreads

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Silence reigned in Rhosgobel. Broken only by the collective breaths of Radagast and Fluttershy. Radagast thought; thought a long time. The burning tree, the eye, the spell going wrong; there was definitely something wrong in the Greenwood. Radagast buried his head in his hands, as he started retracing his steps in his mind. He had lost his notes in the fire, but Radagast could remember very clearly how he had made the spell. In his head, he started preparing and casting the spell again, muttering under his breath.

“No… it was right.”

He’d done everything right from start till finish. The circle, the elements, the words; it had all been correct. He himself had decided to break the spell, because of the eye.

The eye.

He saw it again. That burning, glowing eye with its pitch-black slit pupil. Radagast felt its gaze upon him just by thinking about it. He squeezed his eyes shut, dispelling the image from his mind’s eye.

But what could it have been? It must have been someone—or something—powerful enough to take possession of Radagast’s spell. Powerful enough to mingle with the flow of energy, resist the failsafe wards which had capsuled the spell like a protective cocoon, and manifest itself in form.

And speak.

The eye had spoken just three words: ‘I see you.’ Radagast scratched his head as he tried to decipher this cryptic message, but he came up short. Never before had he heard a creature speak those words. He just couldn’t think about one, and his closest guess would be something savage and predatorily, like a bobcat. The slit-eye had looked like a bobcat’s.

But Radagast knew that it wasn’t a bobcat. A magical bobcat? Ridiculous. Instead he focused on the magical aspect. Who or whatever had cast that eye-spell, it had certainly been someone skilled in the dark arts. There was no doubt about it—it had been black magic. Radagast thought about every dark wizard he could think of; every horror that had abused its magical power for its own gain or to bring malice upon others. He frowned as names and faces flashed by. Even though Radagast hadn’t much interfered with the outside world, and preferred it that way, he had certainly heard stories from other creatures about evil beings. Albatrosses traveled far and wide, and had told him of great deeds both good and evil.

Suddenly, Radagast’s face wrinkled in worry, as a fearfully remembered and dreadful name flared up in his mind like a sudden fire.

“Could it be…”

On the bed in the corner, Fluttershy stirred, and Radagast’s thought was dispelled. She mumbled something, but then continued treading the paths in her restless dreams.

Radagast stood up, and crouched down beside the bed to examine her once more. Fluttershy bore some bruises, and the tip of her tail was charred. Radagast stroked it gently, as he looked at the pegasus’s back. There were a couple of burn marks, but nothing too severe. Radagast had treated them with one of his many ointments, and they should decrease in redness in a matter of hours.

“Fluttershy…” he whispered.

He had had to cancel the spell; the one spell which would have taken her back home—back to her friends. But now she was still here. Deep in his heart, Radagast felt the tiniest sparkle of joy that she was still with him, keeping him company. But that sparkle was capsuled by a thick layer of guilt and remorse. It had been his decision to cancel the spell, and in his mind he wondered whether it had been a good decision or not.

“Yes,” he said; and then louder, “Yes.”

Black magic is dangerous, and Radagast couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened to the poor little pegasus had he done nothing. Perhaps she would have been teleported back to her own world before the eye could have done her any harm, but that was just guesswork. Fluttershy’s tail was already singed, and Radagast was sure the eye would have burned her to crisps if he hadn’t pulled her out of that field of darkness.

But still, it just might have been fast enough…

The doubt kept nibbling at his heart, as Radagast sat down and looked out the window, although he stared at nothing in particular. He forced his mind to think in solutions, rather than problems. The magical tree had burned down, and Radagast was sure that residual black magic would linger over that place for a long time still, buried between the layers of ash and scarred bark. With a little effort, Radagast was sure he would be able to piece the spell back together and try it again, but he doubted whether he would be able to find another place where the magic was as strong as the great tree.

But then, his eyes flared up. The elves! Even though Radagast hadn’t seen an elf in a long time, he knew they still resided in the Greenwood. Surely the magical elven folk, led by their king, must know some way to help. He didn’t even need their resources or their soldiers; Radagast just needed another focal point for the magical energy, so he would have the biggest chance for success.

Beneath his beard, Radagast smiled. “Yes, that seems like a wonderful plan.”

In his mind, Radagast was already preparing for the journey. He would have to go North, towards the Old Forest Road. That was one of the few roads which offered a safe passage through the Greenwood. It was lit by lanterns, well-maintained, and was as straight as a birch trunk. Radagast had never heard stories of folks going missing in the Greenwood, for the wise ones always kept to the road. And more importantly, the road was watched over by elves. He would only have to go to the road and get the attention of the elves. Perhaps I could blast a horn?

Radagast threw one more glance at the sleeping pegasus on his bed. First, Fluttershy has to wake up and rest, Radagast thought. She’s in no shape to travel now.

But Radagast was not going to sit idly by. He decided to do some meditation, as he hadn’t properly meditated in a while. A chance to reconnect himself with the magical energies of the Greenwood and feeling the mood of the forest always lifted his spirits. And in the back of his mind, Radagast figured he might just find out more about what had happened at the magical tree. Radagast sighed. Perhaps this meditation session will not be as revitalizing after all…

As he walked outside, Radagast began gathering some stones and made himself a little stone circle. That way, the animals would know he would be in deep trance, and that they shouldn’t disturb him, lest the connection be broken. Radagast sat down with his legs folded, placed his staff on his lap, and concentrated.

Immediately, he was gone. Radagast’s spirit wandered away from Rhosgobel, carried by the streams of magical energy, like a snapped branch would be carried by a river. He felt the connection and the harmony between the trees. Radagast breathed in deep, and let out a sigh of relief; at least everything close to his home was still good.

But Radagast wasn’t looking for the harmony; he was looking for disruptions. He was looking for a hole in a bucket through which the magic would drain until there would be nothing left of the bucket but an empty shell. Radagast let his spirit wander. Not really in one particular direction, but roaming free like a wild horse on the plains.

Then, he felt something.

Something tugged at the wizard’s cloak, and he began veering off in the direction of the burned tree. He knew this would happen. Now he finally had the chance to investigate this mysterious event on a deeper level; a magical level. He moved in closer, sidling from tree to tree and tasting the magic flowing out of them. Suddenly, he began to feel something strange. While normally the magic in the Greenwood surrounded him on all sides and thrummed and pulsed like a giant heartbeat, Radagast felt a weakening in this pulse. It was as if the heart began to beat slower and slower; as if the forest was going to sleep.

Or going to die.

For a moment, Radagast lost his focus, as fear interrupted his concentration. He had a hard time keeping his wits, as the weakening of the forest’s pulse became ever more noticeable. The magic in the air became thinner and thinner, until at last, it was as if there was nothing left. It felt as if a giant vacuum had opened in front of Radagast’s nose, sucking away the air and drawing him in.

The wizard looked around, and noticed that he was now standing in a part of the forest which had been burned down. Blackened trees accompanied him on either side, and the ground was covered in ash, dead plants, and soot. Of course, when a tree would die, it would lose its magical life-force, so the lack of magical connections in this burned-out place of the forest was natural.

Except that it wasn’t.

Radagast crouched down, and laid his hand on the black earth. He felt and he felt, but under the ground there was nothing. All the magic was gone, and he was standing right in the vacuum. This isn’t right, Radagast thought. Normally, the soil would be rich with the promise of new life; new magical connections, as the ash would fertilize the earth in a natural way. From death, comes life. But now Radagast couldn’t feel anything. It felt as if all the magic was sucked out of the place, leaving a scar on the forest. Radagast shuddered. Somehow, he had the feeling that this part of the forest would be irreparable.

He moved along, and as he did so, he felt less and less of the forest’s magical energy surround him. Suddenly, he arrived at the clearing. The feeling of the vacuum almost became too much, and Radagast had to struggle to keep control.

Right before him, lying on the forest floor, was what remained of the magical tree. Its enormous trunk was blackened and scarred, and sharp splinters protruded from the bark. The giant had indeed fallen down, and had smashed its trunk to pieces under its own weight. The sight of it almost made Radagast cry.

Here, the vacuum was absolute. The place was absolutely dead—all the magic was gone. No moss would sprout on the trunks; no mushrooms would settle in the dark, damp cracks; no birds would nest in he now low-hanging branches; no animal would make their burrow here. The very place felt murdered—murdered by an evil force.

Radagast couldn’t stand it anymore, and turned his back to the fallen giant. He moved southwards again, ready to return to the conscious world and to his home. He would think more about this later; about the nature of the black magic which had caused this torture to the Greenwood—his home. As he entered the lively part of the forest again, he could feel the magical energy once more, but somehow, it felt more delicate than ever.

But when he lingered between familiar trees and bushes, Radagast noticed something.

The pull, there it was again. The vacuum of magic; the disturbance; the thinning of the web. But this time, it was coming from the other direction—from the South.

Reluctant but curious at the same time, for he knew what he would expect but at the same time he didn’t, Radagast headed South. All the while, he was thinking about this second disturbance. Had there been a forest fire somewhere else? A fire caused by the same unholy forces that had smitten the magical tree on that dreadful night? Or was it perhaps… the source.

With that thought, Radagast felt a wave of goosebumps upon his skin like a thousand tiny stick insects. With every minute, he felt the revulsion inside of him grow. He didn’t want to come closer, and yet he did.

Radagast let the lack of magical energy guide him. Further South he went, in spirit form mere minutes to go a dozen miles. Until at last, he found what he was looking for.

The trees parted, and in front of him loomed a massive stone structure, built on a rocky outcropping of an enormous hill; almost a mountain. A crumbled stone bridge led the way to an enormous castle—or what was left of it. Its walls were broken, its iron bent and shattered. Obviously, a terrible battle had taken place to take the stronghold or vanquish the evil until the last shadow. Even though the castle was entirely empty and decaying, no moss, heather, ivy, or other kinds of weed had claimed it as its own. The place was devoid of any life, and looked otherworldly as it stood there, right at the edge of the forest.

“Dol Guldur.”

Radagast knew the name of the place, and some scraps of its history, although he had never before seen the castle in use. An ancient and forgotten stronghold, rotting away, dead on the edge of the living forest. A flock of crows flew up into the air, where they sang a sad song above the spires of Dol Guldur.

Radagast closed his eyes, but even without concentration he could feel the lack of magical energy pull him towards the bridge; towards the gates with their jagged iron spikes.

He stepped closer. Radagast knew the answer to his questions would be in Dol Guldur, hiding from the light of day, lurking in the shadows. He barely managed to control his heartbeat and his breathing. The castle looked as it was cloaked in dark fabrics of dread. With every step, Radagast’s anxiety grew. A few more steps, then he would know.

“I… SEE… YOU!”

A flaring pain like a million woodpeckers erupted in Radagast’s head. He let out a scream, but it became absorbed by the magical vacuum. Radagast’s knees buckled. He doubled over and reached for his scalp. In panic, he threw off his hat, but it didn’t help. Like a lava stream did the pain swirl around in his mind, as he lay there on the broken bridge, twitching and squirming in agony. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the evil continued to rake his brain with its white-hot claws.

“I… SEE… YOU!”

With all the will in Middle-Earth, as if he were battling against a flowing river, Radagast summoned his strength and opened his eyes. He saw it.

Hovering between two needle-tipped spires, the great eye hovered. Its slit pupil looked down on the wizard on the bridge, and an unholy light illuminated him. The light was neither hot nor cold, and it went straight through the wizard, reading his thoughts and his heart and his soul. Stop! Radagast thought. Stop! Stop! Stop!

He opened his eyes, and his spirit returned to his body, sitting still in the stone circle.

Radagast blinked a few times; his eyes felt dry. The pain was gone, the agony was gone, but the memories remained.

He had found the source of the evil; the stronghold of the eye. Never before had Radagast seen such evil in a single being, and just the thought of all its hatred scared him.

But he knew what he had to do. He was the warden of the Greenwood, chosen by the Valar themselves to watch over the magic and life in Middle-Earth’s biggest and most ancient forest. No matter how terrible, he had to face this black wizard—this eye—and destroy it, even if it would cost him his life.

Radagast stood up, wobbled, fell down, stood up again. He entered Rhosgobel, leaning on the doorknob. The bunnies and the birds scattered and made way for the wizard, feeling part of his worries, fears and sorrows although he didn’t speak. Radagast wanted to get some belongings, some elements or potions that might help him in this battle; he knew it would perhaps be the most difficult ordeal he had ever faced, but he had to do it. He had to face his destiny. He had to drive the eye away.

But then he saw Fluttershy, still sleeping on the bed. Radagast stopped moving around and stood as still as a tree. But what about Fluttershy?

For a moment, he had forgotten about his other mission: getting Fluttershy back home. What if he would indeed die trying? Not only would Fluttershy never go home, but she would be found by the dark wizard for certain. It would find her, and destroy her.

No way in Middle Earth was he going to take the little pegasus with him towards Dol Guldur. Radagast had the feeling that the dark atmosphere alone could kill her. But Radagast was not going to wait for her to wake up either. The Enemy had seen his spirit presence, and perhaps he had even seen how Radagast’s spirit had returned to his body. If he had, it would only be a matter of time before Rhosgobel too would fall beneath the dead, magic-less shadow of the eye’s presence. No. Time was a pressing matter now. When he returned, he would continue helping Fluttershy, perhaps by seeking advice from the elves, but now he had to go, and leave her behind.

Leave her behind, but not leave her alone.

“Alexander! Birds! Rabbits! Friends!”

Radagast’s creatures came scuttling towards him; a few birds landed on the chairs and table, and the rabbits, hedgehogs, badgers, foxes, and any other animal who could hear his voice gathered by his feet. By the looks of Radagast’s earnest frown, they knew he was going to say something important.

“Listen, everyone,” Radagast said. “When Fluttershy wakes up, you have to tell her that I am gone for a time. I will be on a very important mission, one of which I might not return. Tell her to go North, guide her if you must—that would be wiser. Get her to the Old Forest Road and call for the elves. I am certain that they will look after her and help her, for they are good-natured.”

Radagast paused and looked at the faces of his animals. All of them were dead-serious; the birds tilted their heads to listen and the bunnies’ ears were aimed at him. Radagast gave out a long sigh before he continued.

“And… And if I do not return after the third day, then flee. You will all have to flee from Rhosgobel, and tell the elves that a great evil has fallen on the Greenwood; an evil in the form of a terrible eye. Do you all understand what I am saying?”

Although the message was grim, the birds chirped in acknowledgement, and the other animals showed their comprehension in their ways.

“Good,” Radagast said. He started packing up his things again and collected them into a big leather satchel. Before he walked out the door, he threw one glance back at Fluttershy, lying peacefully asleep on his bed; his animals, some scattering around and others keeping watch near the little pegasus; his home; the cozy little cottage he might not see again were he to fail his dreadful task.

“Goodbye.”

His rabbits were already waiting at the sled, ready, but not eager, to carry their master towards danger. Radagast stepped on the wooden framework, grabbed hold of the handlebar, and yelled, “Go! Go!” He sighed, and then added, “Don’t you worry about me. Please.”

* *

Evening began to fall; a cloudy evening with the stars hiding behind the clouds, as if they were too scared to watch the outcome of Radagast’s ordeal. The moonlight shone in irregular shapes, draped by tattered clouds, over the trees of the Greenwood.

Between the trees, Radagast rode his sled towards danger. He could feel the pull of the rabbits being irregular and hesitant, and he could well understand that. He had been traveling for an hour perhaps, and he was almost at Dol Guldur.

“Not long now…”

The trees flashed by in front of his eyes as the sled skidded over the dead leaves. He started to climb a grassy hill, very gradually, and then dipped down into the forest once more. With the wind making his long grey beard flutter, Radagast took a moment to look around. He was utterly focused on the road ahead, even though he knew that his rabbits would march straight and agile on the right path. But now, he looked left and right. He wanted to look one more time at the Greenwood, his home, for it may just be the last time.

The Greenwood; the land he vowed to protect, looked utterly terrible.

Radagast knew that the trees would be bare as winter would soon be upon it, but in this part of the forest, there was almost nothing left of them. Scrawny and bare they stood, leaning over Radagast as if they were pleading for help.

Radagast let out a gasp. He stuck out his hand and snatched a branch off one of the trees. Holding it close to his nose, he sniffed, and then he tasted the bark.

“Oh my!”

The wizard jolted, and the twig flew out of his hand. It had tasted terrible. It had tasted of… nothing.

And then Radagast realized that he had once again entered a part of the forest where the shadow lay. It rested between the branches and the trunks, feeding off the magical energy. Radagast closed his eyes for a second, and opened his senses. Even though he was in his corporal form, the magical vacuum hit him in the face of his mind’s eye like the cold air of a blizzard. Almost he let go of the handlebar, but steadied himself just in time.

Then he noticed another thing: the sounds—or rather, the lack of sounds.

It dawned to him that he had seen no other animal on his way. No elks galloping around, no wolves on the hunt for prey, and no birds flying in the air. Not a single birdsong had reached Radagast’s ears, and the sound of their flapping wings was entirely missing. Indeed, this part of the forest felt devoid of life, looked devoid of life, was devoid of life.

Radagast shook his head, forcing his mind to calm down and to prepare for what was to come. Over another hill he went, and through yet another clearing where the grass was dead and smelled of rot. He made a small turn to avoid a skeletal bush of shrubs, the sled tilting dangerously far to the right. A branch whipped in his face, snapped, and fell down on the ground. A flock of crows took off, squawking towards the source of their interruption. Finally, some sign of life.

But as his spirits lifted with the sound of at least one species of animals, it immediately sank to the bottom of the crevice which he came to face, for he had reached his destination: Dol Guldur.

There it stood, unmoved on the rocky hill. The moonlight illuminated the fortress in a gloomy light, and the tattered clouds looked as if they were a part of this macabre painting, showing itself before Radagast’s eyes.

The sled stopped. Radagast stepped off and turned towards his rabbits.

“I think you should go now. This is no place for rabbits, nor is this a place for any kind of animal.”

Radagast unfastened the straps, bridles, and harnesses. As he did so, he patted each rabbit on the head or scratched it behind the ears, as a way of saying farewell. One more time did they gather and look at the wizard, but he had turned his back towards them, and they couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Radagast scrambled down the slope, and approached the crumbling stone bridge. Just as in his spirit journey, the bridge was desolate and lonely, covering a crevice with a depth unknown; Radagast didn’t really feel the urge to look down.

Things were strangely silent. Radagast didn’t like the silence. He still felt the vacuum of magic, but the aura of dread seemed to be nonexistent this time. As he reached the middle of the bridge, Radagast hesitated. At this spot the Enemy had found him and tortured him.

“Death or life.”

Radagast did one more step.

Silence.

He gulped, expecting to see the burning eye between the spires, but there was nothing but silence and stone. Radagast dared to let out a small sigh, and continued.

He stepped underneath the portcullis, where the iron spikes greeted him like curved branches. Radagast shuffled forward, his ears primed for strange noises, his eyes flashing from side to side, searching for his enemy or danger. He observed every corner, every place the moonlight didn’t reach.

The portcullis led the way to a vast open, stone space. It might have been the courtyard, or it might have been the main hall with its roof collapsed. Wide and circular it stood there, built of iron and stone. On the floor were ancient carvings, perhaps meant as decoration, along with a number of half-crumbled statues of kings and other nobles. Some had no heads; others had no arms, yet all they silently looked at the center of the courtyard, where Radagast now stood, squeezing his staff tightly in his hands.

Now the wizard had a choice to make. In front of him, the floor continued for a few meters before it disappeared beneath a partly-collapsed roof, leading further into the stronghold. To his left began another hall; one that looked even vaster than the one in front of him. Radagast stood still.

He felt a cold breeze against his skin, coming from the hall in front of him, like the breath of a snake. The very air smelled of fear, and Radagast had trouble keeping his thoughts consistent. The draft felt unnatural, and slowly, involuntarily, he felt himself taking a step back.

And then another one.

And another one.

The sharp shadow cast by the portcullis enveloped him. Radagast would have wanted to turn back and run at the very touch of the atmosphere.

He cast one more glance at Dol Guldur—that glance saved his life.

Out of the corner of his eyes, something blinked. It wasn’t a star. Radagast thrust his staff up, catching the gleaming blade just before it touched his hat.

A scream, colder and sharper than the blade itself, cut through the air. Radagast felt the icy winds against his face and closed his eyes. But at the same time, he swung his staff to the side, knocking the hidden assassin to the ground.

As soon as it touched the stone floor, the dark figure dissolved into the vile air.

Only after a second did Radagast dare to open his eyes. The attacker was gone. The blade was gone. Radagast felt his heart race. He tried to say something, but his voice stuttered too much. He tried again, looking at the moon in the sky, trying to touch on its energy, if only for a moment.

“By the light of life, I call for your aid, moonlight luminescent!”

Immediately, the crystal on the tip of Radagast’s staff erupted in a shiny halo, dozens of times brighter than the glow of the moon. It bathed the courtyard in a magical light, revealing what had been unseen at first.

Between the statues, at the rim of the stone circular space, were figures cloaked in black. They stood as still as the statues themselves, and their cloaks, ragged and stained, yet still as black as the deepest abyss, waved in the otherworldly breeze.

Radagast gasped in fear, but had trouble inhaling again. The cold air was almost impossible to breathe, as if it was made for these evil beings.

One of them wore a helmet made of cold silver, circling around its head like a spiked crown. No jewels adorned the thing, yet the figure made a regal appearance. It did one step closer, then it let out a terrible scream, even louder and more abhorrent than the first.

Radagast covered his ears, but it didn’t help. The scream pierced through his fingers, through his head, through his soul. It rattled his very bones, and he felt the magical energy seep out of him, absorbed in the vacuum that lay upon the place like a blanket of dusk. His light dimmed, and he fell to the ground, his staff rattling on the cold stones. Like a worm did Radagast crawl towards his magical staff. He knew it was the only weapon he had.Light has always startled the dark.

The scream ended. Radagast grasped the wood of his staff, hauled himself up on his feet, and called, “Light of moon, silver and pure, lend me thy power to shun all evil.”

Once more the crystal threw its explosion of light all around, and it stayed like that as if a white fire burned inside the crystal.

The dark figures had surrounded him. They stood around Radagast in a circle, each clasping a cruel longsword in gnarled fingers. Radagast could see that each one of them wore a ring, their diamonds shining different colors through the shadows of the cloaks.

The light wavered as Radagast trembled. His mind was filled with a primeval instinct to live and fight, but through that cluster of thoughts, one clear one managed to break through. From the dusty corners of Radagast’s knowledge of lore and ancient tales, one realization shone through like a searchlight through mist.

“The Nine!”

The nine robed figured let out a collective hiss. Not as potent as the scream, but powerful enough to make Radagast feel as if he were thrown into an icy river.

The nine kings of men, foolish enough to accept the gifts that would be their doom: the promise of power, wrapped up in a simple magical ring. It was a gift given by Sauron, which turned out not to be a gift at all, but a loan. Power in return for their very souls. An eternal promise to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. Here they stood, the Nine, together with their king, in front of Radagast the Brown, warden of the Greenwood.

Radagast looked up into the eyes of their leader, which stood right in front of him, but found no eyes. There was only blackness underneath that silver-bound crown.

The Witch-King raised his blade—the steel was rimmed with shadows—and brought it down upon the lonely figure of Radagast.

“No!”

Radagast bit through the cold and raised his staff.

With a scream, the Witch-King staggered back, as his steel touched the wood. The shadows surrounding the blade disappeared in the flash of energy that erupted from the crystal in the staff. The other wraiths did one step back, recoiling from the light.

This was his chance. When a pack of wolves is going to attack, one must attack first, and focus on the leader of the pack. Radagast sprang to his feet, and, with all the strength he could muster, charged towards the Witch-King, his staff raised high into the air.

But his strike stopped in mid-air, as a hand in steel mesh closed around the wood. The silver-crowned head looked up, from the staff to Radagast’s startled face.

“Fool.”

Radagast felt the stress through the wood, as the claw-like fingers tried to crush the stick to splinters. Radagast felt the Witch-King’s muscles quiver with the effort, fueled by some unholy strength.

But the staff didn’t break, and Radagast knew it wouldn’t.

Another shriek resounded, battering against Radagast’s skull, but still he didn’t let go.

A grim smile curled the wizard’s lips underneath his beard. He was the one who held power over the staff. He was the bearer of the crystal, and he alone could prevent the staff from breaking. He looked down at the steel claw, whispering elvish words for another spell.

The blood-red diamond on the Witch-King’s ring glittered, and for a moment, Radagast became distracted by its glow. It looked like a small version of the great burning eye, burning with the same rage and evil power.

All the while, the other eight wraiths crept closer and closer, almost like wolves surrounding a deer, filled with the determination and with the realization that they would succeed in their hunt and tear their prey to pieces, but also careful for its sudden, unexpected kick.

Then, from underneath the crown came sounds. No screams or hisses, but words. Even though the language was foreign, Radagast could hear the evil in the words, the malice in the sentences, and the cruelty in the incantation. The red stone on the Witch-King’s finger began to leak small wisps of smoke. Darker than the night sky, they crept like parasites over the steel finger, until they touched down on the wood of Radagast’s staff, where they suddenly multiplied and scattered.

Radagast felt his arms going numb. He trembled, then he shook, then he quivered violently, the light shaking and stuttering in his hands. He saw the shadows creep over the wood, now big and fat like a pitch-black anaconda. The tendrils slithered over the wood until they reached the crystal.

“No….”

Radagast let go of his staff; it clattered to the ground. His hands were stained and burned. The energy left him—the magic left him. The wraiths made a sound as if inhaling a deep breath before a sigh, and Radagast felt the magic flow away from him and towards the Nine in a breeze. He felt his knees give way, and he fell down to the ground. Exhaustion gripped his every muscle, squishing it to jelly. His head hung low, and Radagast barely had enough energy to open his eyes.

But he refused to give up. He had to win, and if he couldn’t, he had to run. Radagast tapped into the magic, trying to rake enough energy together to lift his head. He was helped by the tip of the Witch-King’s blade.

“Your attempts are foolish, wizard.”

The Witch-King’s voice was sharp as the talons of a falcon, yet cruel like a snake’s bite. It spoke of all the dark tasks, torture, and malice its bearer had committed for the Dark Lord, even though it bore only those words.

Over the path of rune-engraved steel, Radagast looked at his enemy. The tip of the sword kissed his throat like a thousand thorns. The Witch-King only needed to thrust, and it would be over.

One thrust.

Radagast’s last thoughts went to Fluttershy. The wizard himself had had a good life; a useful life. He had protected the forest well, and had upheld the balance as best as he could. He had helped so many wonderful animals and had made so many wonderful friends. But never had he felt so complete as in taking care of little Fluttershy. He felt his Adam’s apple press against the cruel tip as he said her name in a hoarse, exhausted whisper.

“Fluttershy…”

Then, the steel of the sword forced Radagast’s head up. Up, up, up, until he could see the dark clouds and the extinguished moon. He saw the tips of the spires; watchtowers without eyes to watch.

Suddenly, the stark black shapes of two of the watchtowers exploded in a fiery mist. Burning bricks showered down on the collapsed roof of the stronghold, smashing yet more holes in the crumbling structure. The sound of roaring flames whooshed over the courtyard, accompanied by the heat of an erupting volcano. Suddenly, all of the cruel coldness was gone, the Ringwraiths were gone, the Witch-King was gone. Only the eye remained.

“No…”

Hovering between the two spires was the eye. The eye of which Radagast now knew to whom it belonged.

“Sauron!”

The words evaporated as they left Radagast’s dry mouth. Despite the lack of energy, he couldn’t stop gazing into that single, dark pupil, which began changing form. It took on a more human shape; a figure with a crown of despair and a cloak of death.

“I… SEE… YOU!”

Slowly, the pupil of the eye drifted closer, floating down as if it descended an unseen set of stairs. The heat was unbearable, and Radagast felt blisters on his hands and his arms.

Now the figure, made of swirling shadows and scraps of pure darkness, stood right before the wizard, like a master observing a slave. Radagast felt his thoughts being sucked out of his mind, replaced by an impossible sense of dread.

“No… Please…”

Sauron drew back his arm. It tripled in size, and sprouted a claw made of living shadows. He stood like that before Radagast, as if he hesitated.

Radagast could draw half a breath, before the claw struck.

Darkness. ;<�v[�t 2

Chapter twelve: showstopper

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The streets of Ponyville were bustling with activity. Everywhere you looked there were stalls with food, games, clothes, trinkets, books, and toys. On every corner there was a small stage where musicians played their instruments. Saxophones, violins, guitars, and many more instruments filled the air with a cheerful sound. Wherever you walked, there would be some form of entertainment. Colorful streamers were cast over the crowded streets, their colors shining like rainbows captured between the houses. Everywhere, ponies were smiling, enjoying the beautiful Equestrian afternoon on this cheerful fair.

Cheerful, but completely random.

It was a Saturday; just an ordinary Saturday. No official holiday whatsoever. The closest holiday would be the summer vacation, but that would still be a couple of months away.

All of the citizens were a colorful parade, dressed up however they seemed fit. There were policeponies, fireponies, clowns, Wonderbolts, princesses, kings, queens, robots, cows, Mysterious Mare Do Wells, and many more strange figures. Everypony took the opportunity to dress as colorful, beautiful, or silly as they could, basking in the feeling as if it were Nightmare Night, but without the scary decorations.

For a few days, everypony had built, sewn, crafted, baked, and prepared himself for the grand festival. For a few days, they had gotten a small vacation to make all of this happen. They had no idea who was the mastermind of this plan; the pony who had set all of this party-preparing in motion, but they had their suspicions…

No, this festival was totally random, and nopony could even begin to guess at its meaning—nor did they feel the need to. The citizens of Ponyville were always in for a celebration, especially on such a beautiful day like this one. But for two ponies, the reason to throw this party was very important.

On an enormous stage, erected right in the middle of town and right in the middle of the hubbub, two ponies were talking in hushed voices to each other backstage.

“You sure this will work?” Applejack said, peeking through the curtains to look at the crowd of ponies in front of the stage. They were all looking expectantly towards the great purple curtains, as a special show had been planned at this time; the main attraction.

“Of course it will,” Pinkie said with a smile on her face, which perfectly matched her cheerful and colorful dress. “This will be the biggest, randomest, no-reason-whatsoever party Ponyville has ever seen.” But then she gasped. “Maybe even the randomest party Equestria has ever seen! He will come…” Pinkie rubbed her hooves together with a sly smile. “No one can resist such a random and chaotic festival—No one, I tell you!”

Applejack closed the curtain and looked at Pinkie’s cheerful eyes. “I really can’t believe we’re doing this. Don’t you think this is all a little too… drastic?”

“What?!” Pinkie’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “No party has ever been declared too drastic. Ever. Every single party I have ever thrown was necessary.”

Applejack looked a little uncomfortable, and hoped that she hadn’t insulted Pinkie, although she knew she hadn’t. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. I guess it’s just the circumstances which are a bit… odd. I mean, we’ve been through all these preparations for this enormous party for days, while Fluttershy might be fighting for her life in another world.”

A tiny bit of cheer left Pinkie’s eyes. “Yeah, but look at it the positive way: not only will we entertain all the ponies of Ponyville, but we’ll get him to show up as well.”

“Yeah…” Applejack said, but her gaze wandered off. “It’s just a shame it will be for nothing…”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

Of course Applejack had spotted the lie. The very moment Twilight Sparkle had told them all where she got the magical energy from, Applejack had noticed her gaze being all over the place, the hesitation in her voice, and her change of tone. Being the element of honesty meant being able to spot lies as well; it came naturally to Applejack.

“She lied, Pinkie. Twilight lied.”

Pinkie Pie stopped bouncing, and looked genuinely earnest now. “Huh? Why would she do that, silly? Twilight is our friend.”

“Well, I think because she feels—“

The clock in the Ponyville tower struck three, the bells interrupting the music for three seconds.

Pinkie jumped up. “Oops, gotta go, A.J. It’s show time!”

“But—“

But Applejack had no opportunity to discuss the matter further. Pinkie Pie jumped through the curtains on stage, where she reared and kicked her front legs, her dress fluttering comically after her. “Hello-di-lo, everypony!”

The crowd shouted back, laughed, or nodded, fired up by Pinkie’s contagious enthusiasm.

“Wwwwwwwwelcome everypony on this super-duper, random-tastic, yes-nonsense celebratory day, where we celebrate the spirit of partying and… eh… randomness!”

Cheers and laughter. The ponies in the crowd couldn’t help it. They knew that, with Pinkie Pie, they were going to be in for something special.

Pinkie Pie calmed down and put on a serious face. “Now I know what you’re all thinking: ‘why are we celebrating on a random Saturday?’ Well, the answer is simple. Would you rather stop and ask that question, or go to the Apple family stand and fill your questioning mouth with some delicious apple fritters?”

A few ponies in the crowd licked their lips and turned their heads in the direction of the stand with hungry looks.

Thanks for the advertisement, Applejack thought from behind the curtains. She hadn’t really felt the need to be on that stage as well. She reckoned that she would have made a rather dull appearance next to the bouncing and colorful Pinkie Pie.

On the stage, Pinkie Pie made a small pirouette, and veered off to the right. “Would you all rather think about the reason why, or fill your head with the badass new beats from everypony’s favorite DJ?”

On a small platform, a separate set of curtains opened, revealing DJ PON-3, who dropped the needle on one of her latest tracks. Not too loud, of course, for Pinkie wasn’t done with her announcement yet. PON-3 dropped her shades for a second, and gave Pinkie a wink.

Pinkie made a cartwheel on her forelegs, tumbling back towards the center of the stage. “And would you rather try to see the reason in front of your eyes, when you can watch and enjoy the main attraction of this festival of chaos…”

DJ PON-3 scratched her record and let a small snare roll resound.

“The weirdest, randomest, most spectacular and fantastical megalomaniac ever to walk or fly on this plane of existence…”

The speakers rattled with a vinyl spin-back.

“Discord!”

And, as if on cue, as if it had all been planned, the spirit of chaos appeared out of thin air, fluttering his uneven wings, until his one hoof and one claw touched down on the stage.

Immediately, he gave bows in every direction. “Thank, you, thank you everypony… Wait, why am I here and what am I thanking for?”

Pinkie Pie skipped next to him. “You’re here to entertain us, of course.”

Discord’s bristly eyebrow shot up. “What, huh, oh! Of course!” He knew the only way to prevent himself from looking like a fool onstage was to play along. “Of course I’m here to entertain you all. Well, you picked the finest entertainer in Equestria I’d say.” He recomposed himself, and with a snap of his finger he summoned a spotlight for himself and a classy tuxedo, complete with a cane and a top hat to top it off.

The fireponies, astronauts, Lunas, scarecrows, Wonderbolts, nurses, Celestias, clowns, PON-3s, Cadences, and power ponies all looked at Discord in silence, eagerly awaiting his performance.

“Well I’ll be an apple fritter,” Applejack said behind the curtains. “It actually worked.”

Discord straightened his bow-tie, pulled a microphone including stand out of his sleeve, and cleared his long, lanky throat. “Very well… Why not start this great festival of… of… eh…”

“Randomness,” Pinkie whispered to him.

“Randomness off with some jokes!”

A polite applause from the crowd.

Discord smiled. He was the master of chaos, and so the master of improvisation as well. He didn’t even need a second to think, as the first joke shot through his head like a bouncing ball.

“Why do fillies, hopefully in love, wait in the rain?”

The ponies in the crowd didn’t take their eyes off Discord. Some started whispering into each other’s ears, as they knew the joke already.

Discord let a small pause fall, for the dramatic effect. Then he blurted out, “Because they’re hoping to catch a COLT!”

A collective chuckle came from the crowd. Not exactly the roar of laughter Discord was expecting, but it was something, and besides, he was just starting off. Only Pinkie Pie, standing next to PON-3’s DJ stand, roared with laughter. “A COLT! Genius!”

They love me, Discord thought. Let’s have some more. He took the microphone off the stand and walked closer to the edge of the stage. “Alright, another one. What do ponies say when they’ve caught a cold?”

Questioning looks. The front row of ponies looked from side to side.

“Nothing, because they’re… hoarse!”

It looked as if that pun was even weaker than the first. There was a small ripple of chuckling, but that was it.

Pinkie, once again, burst out in laughter.

More! More! Cried the small Discord in Discord’s head. “What do ponies use when they’re drinking tea?”

A small mumbling, nothing more.

“A stirrup!”

Behind Discord, Pinkie made a fool of herself, doubling over with joy. But from the crowd, there were only little grins, which hardly made any sound.

Discord took a moment to scan the crowd with his eyes, looking rather cross-eyed for a moment. He saw the grins, and saw them disappearing as well. He knew he had to do something—fast. He was losing them.

“Well, eh… Why do ponies stay indoors when the weather’s bad?”

Silence and stares.

“Because they hate the rein!”

The crowd stayed silent and grinned. But now the ponies looked at each other instead of at Discord, silently wondering if this performance would be worth their time. Some of them pointed, and walked off.

Behind the scenes, Applejack slapped a hoof against her forehead. “Oh my, that was bad.”

Beads of sweat started dripping off Discord’s long, thin neck and stained his brown fur. Pleasedon’tgopleasedon’tgopleasedon’tgo, he repeated over and over in his head. But that didn’t help of course. For a split-second, Discord considered a quick little mind-control spell, but then realized that he couldn’t do that—not anymore anyway. He decided to give them another pun-barrage.

“Why don’t ponies like to sail?”

“I like to sail,” said one stallion from the crowd.

Discord ignored him. “Because they’re afraid of a bridal-wave!”

Pinkie laughed; the crowd dispersed.

Last chance.

“H-h-how do Equestrian dogs bark?” Discord said; his voice was trembling now.

Dead silence.

Then, in a cloud of silver sparkles, Discord transformed himself into a big, scrawny, multi-colored dog, and said, “Hoof! Hoof!”

That was the death-blow to Discord’s performance. The front row started moving away, soon followed by the rest of the ponies.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Discord became really desperate now. He had never known stage-fright, not even at the Grand Galloping Gala when his stand-up comedy show went bad too. But now the feeling of being entirely alone and humiliated overwhelmed him. His mind raced with options, jokes, puns, something funny. And then,

“IMITATIONS!” Discord yelled, standing on two paws and stretching out into the lanky Draconequus he was. “Everypony likes imitations, right? Let’s do our great party host an honor and imitate her first!”

Some ponies stopped in their tracks and aimed their gazes back at the stage, somewhat intrigued by what was happening now.

But Discord didn’t wait; he had to act now—literally. He blinked, twirled around, flashed his magic, and stood a moment later as a pony on stage; a pink pony with a curly, springy mane and tail, looking with big, blue eyes over the crowd.

To the sudden flash, more and more ponies started walking back towards the big stage. Finally! Some action.

“Hi everypony, I’m Pinkie Pie,” Discord said, imitating her voice almost perfectly; it was a bit too low, because he was male after all. But to compensate this, he jumped up and down, rolling over the floor laughing, and began to sing in an over-exaggerated, high-pitched voice.

My name is Pinkie Pie,

And I am here you see

To try and make you smile with my

Hyperactive me

It doesn’t really matter

What you do have to say

Whether you want me to or not,

I’ll do it anyway

‘Cause I want you to smile, smile, smile

That is true

I’ll force my pretty cheerfulness on you

That I do

‘Cause I want you to smile, smile, smile

And I know you want it too

I’m eating only cupcakes

And while I sing this song,

My energy spikes through the roof

I’m bouncing all day long

I don’t know what happens

In that crazy head of mine

I use it only to make sure

My parties last a life-time

And I want you to smile, smile, smile

That is true

I’ll force my pretty cheerfulness on you

That I do

And I want you to smile, smile, smile

And I know you want it too

It’s true some days are dull and normal

And maybe you feel sad,

But Pinkie will pop up and make your day more and more mad

There’s one thing that makes me happy

And buries my big old frown

And that’s when I put all o’ Ponyville upside-down

Laughing is my hobby,

My passion and my joy

I rather have one single smile than

A golden shiny toy

‘Cause I want you to smile, smile, smile

That is true

I’ll force my pretty cheerfulness on you

That I do

‘Cause I want you to smile, smile, smile

And I know you want it too

Come on everypony, smile, smile smile,

Even though I’m annoying, -oying

Come on everypony, smile, smile, smile,

Then I will stop my sing-ing

Come on everypony, smile, smile smile,

Even though I’m annoying, -oying

Come on everypony, smile, smile, smile,

Then I will stop my sing-ing

Yes the perfect gift for me-e

Is a clever word pun or three

Discord’s are witty as can be

Smile, smile, smile, smile, smileeeeeeee!

Come on and smile

Once the song had ended, everypony had returned to their places in front of the stage with that crazy—but quite impressive—Pinkie Pie imitator. They laughed and whistled, stomping their hooves on the grass to show their appreciation.

With a jump, Discord sprang to his hooves. “Well, that kinda sums up my whole life, doesn’t it? Parties are a way of life, and a good one! But… you know… I’ve got a very funny secret—funny for you guys, not me.” Discord clopped his pink hooves together, and the next second he was back in draconequus-form.

“You see,” he said, leaning forward as if he was going to share something extremely confidential with the crowd. “One day—Pinkie’s birthday in fact—Pinkie Pie had an amazing pre-party before the evening of her actual birthday party. She partied so hard, and ate so many sweets, and bounced and skipped and danced and laughed and enjoyed herself so vigorously, that, when the actual party began, she fell asleep at the DJ’s first song!”

A roar of laughter went through the crowd. Some of them pointed at Pinkie Pie, who laughed along, even though she couldn’t really remember that. “Did I really do that?” Pinkie asked PON-3. The DJ nodded with a grin.

Discord rubbed his lion and bird claw together. “Alright who’s next?”

“Rarity,” somepony shouted from the far right.

“Ah, of course.” Discord dissolved in a sparkling, glittering ball of smoke, only to reappear as the famous fashion designer. He stood in an extravagant pose, brushing his graceful purple mane as if he were posing for a photoshoot. “A grand afternoon, darlings,” he said, quite exaggerating Rarity’s proper way of speaking. “My name is Rarity and I loooooooove fashion.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, a thousand different dresses flashed like a rapid-fire slideshow on and off Discord’s white figure. All the while, Discord continued to do poses for fashion magazines. And for a moment, he really felt like he was on the catwalk, showing off the latest fashion and being the center of attention. “Oh my, I might actually get used to this,” he said.

Some ponies in the crowd couldn’t stand it anymore, and bent double with laughter. The crowd had swollen dramatically, as more and more ponies got curious at the outbursts of laughter before the big stage.

“Hahaha! That’s hilarious,” Applejack said behind the curtains. “Wait till I tell Rarity.” She knew that Rarity wouldn’t find it funny at all, posh as she was.

Next came the awkward fact. The dresses stopped appearing, and Discord changed back to his own form. But, as he did so, one dress remained on his changing body, and after a couple of seconds, he stood on the stage in a pretty pink wedding gown, complete with a graceful veil.

But Discord didn’t let it ruin his show (which it didn’t; it only made the whole façade funnier), and turned to the crowd. “Now Rarity here, the great and wannabe famous fashion designer, once got a great order to produce a number of garments for some rich pony’s wild party life. So, Rarity set to work, and made the most beautiful dresses with the most beautiful fabrics, the most beautiful threads, and the most beautiful gems. Sparkling and shining these dresses were, the pinnacle of perfection. When she was done—just in time, by the way—she headed towards her customer to make her delivery. She knocked on the door, and a very handsome stallion in a classy tuxedo, which was almost as classy as mine, opened. And when Rarity asked where her customer was, the stallion pointed to himself!”

The crowd went wild. They threw their hats in the air and shouted words of admiration.

“Yes, that’s right, she’d totally forgotten to ask for a first name.” Discord shrugged. “Well, I guess even the best make mistakes—eh, except me, of course.”

He waited a minute or two for the crowd to calm down, and moved on to his next unfortunate victim.

“Alright, everypony, calm down. Let’s talk about our next star: Spike.” With a snap of his finger, Discord summoned a box of paper towels, and used one to blink away a fake tear. “Now our poor little Spike. I just don’t believe how he continues to survive under Twilight Sparkle’s iron reign. ‘Spike, fetch me a dictionary. No, not that one, the extra thick and heavy one on the top shelf.’ But, listen closely, everypony, because I know why Spike still stays with his tyrannical mistress… Because she has the largest comic collection, of course!”

A collective laughter reached the draconequus’s ears. He relished in it, and inspiration struck him.

“And speaking of Twilight Sparkle, everypony’s favorite princess of friendship. Do you know what she does when she is supposed to be ‘studying?’”

“No,” said a few ponies.

“She reads comic-books! Well, of course she does, why else would she have such an enormous collection of them. Not just for Spike, you know?”

Some ponies in the crowd gasped, but those gasps soon became mixed with more chuckling and laughing.

“Well,” Discord said, smiling broadly himself, “who’s next?” He considered saying ‘Hooves next,’ but thought the era of word puns had come to an end. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a small notebook and glasses on his long muzzle. He started leafing through the book like a seasoned accountant, but all the pages were blank, of course, and Discord knew very well which pony was next. “Starlight Glimmer! Well, what to say about her? Twilght’s second slave, I suppose?”

The crowd laughed, but they still kept their attention on the stage, as they knew there was going to be more.

Discord made a gesture as if he were shushing the crowd. “Alright, alright, let’s not get too mean on her, shall we? We know she’s still learning and improving; but as you know, you cannot learn without making mistakes. And I just so happened to witness one of her most beautiful mistakes. Do you all know what it looked like?”

“No,” the ponies in the crowd said.

“Like THIS!” And with those words, Discord blew himself up into an enormous, firework-like explosion, scattering sparks and colors and sizzles and crackles high in the sky.

At first, the crowd became startled, but then a chorus of ‘ohs,’ and ‘ahs’ resounded.

When the last sparks dissolved and the last bangs echoed away, Discord rematerialized in the Sulphur cloud that remained. “Yes, that’s right, everypony, she blew up Twilight’s beautiful study in one of her experiments. That day, she learned two very important spells: how to create indoor-fireworks, and how to summon an exact copy of a study!”

The crowd roared with laughter. Many of the ponies fell upon their haunches or rolled away, clutching their stomachs in their hooves. The crowd had swelled to about half of the population of Ponyville now, and although the ponies that stood all the way at the back couldn’t hear the draconequus’s voice quite as loudly and clearly as the front ones, they still joined in on the laughter; laughter is contagious, after all.

“Rainbow Dash! Do Rainbow Dash!” one enormous stallion shouted from the public. He wore a Wonderbolts costume, and had dyed his mane in rainbow colors.

“Bien sure,” Discord said. He began racking his brain for embarrassing facts about everypony’s favorite action hero, which took him about three seconds, then he held the mic in front of his muzzle again. “Rainbow Dash. She’s such a badass, isn’t she? Well, I’ve got something to roast her too, don’t you worry. I know, for instance, who her favorite Wonderbolt is…”

The crowd was silent, waiting for the joke.

“Soarin.”

Confused gazes. Was that the joke?

“And do you guys know how I know that?” Discord said, leaning forward and sniffing up the confusion.

The crowd gave a collective shake of the head.

“Because I saw her sleeping with the most beautiful Soarin plushie I had ever seen!”

Another laugh exploded like fireworks in the crowd. Even the Rainbow Dash fans chuckled along; they knew Dash could handle a joke.

“Yes,” Discord said, laughing along. But then his face became serious. “What are you laughing at? It was not a mere cuddly toy, you know? This was an ‘action figurine,’ signed by Soarin himself.”

The crowd didn’t stop laughing; the jokes went on and on and on.

Discord twirled his finger around his goatee; a sly smile appeared on his lips. “Hmm… I wonder whether Soarin knows this…”

Luckily for Soarin, he wasn’t in the crowd. Unluckily for Soarin, he was standing only a few yards away, and one stallion stepped out of the crowd and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hehehe, who would’ve thought?” Applejack said behind the curtains, grinning from ear to ear.

Discord waited for the laughter to subside. Then, he summoned a wooden chair from another dimension and sat down. He looked into the crowd with a serious gaze, and everypony fell silent at once.

“Now, let me get something straight, before you are going to think me some kind of a voyeur, looking at sleeping ponies. You see, the reason why I know all of this, and the reason why I like spying so much, is because… well… When I was just a little Discord, all I ever wanted was to be a secret agent, like Sweetie Dr—“ but then he caught himself. In the crowd, Bon Bon started to inch slowly to the side. “Like Sweetie Belle,” Discord finished.

“Wait, what?” Sweetie Belle said, who was standing almost in the front row with her other friends. “I never wanted to be a secret agent.”

Scootaloo jumped up. “But I would like to.”

“Yeah, me too,” Applebloom said.

“Hey!” Scootaloo said with sparkling eyes. “Let’s try to get our cutie marks in spying! That sounds like a really cool job.”

“Good idea!” Applebloom said.

Sweetie Belle looked at her friends’ faces and simply couldn’t refuse. A second later, they trotted off.

Discord, meanwhile, had recomposed himself, and was once again standing in full glory in his classy tuxedo. “Well, then. Let’s talk about our last unfortunate pony for today, then I’m going to be off spying some more and enjoying this beautiful festival. Can I have some drums please?”

DJ PON-3 let the snares roll.

Last victim? Applejack thought. But there’s two left: Fluttershy and—

“Applejack!” Discord yelled at the top of his lungs.

Behind the curtains, Applejack stirred. “Wait, what?!”

Discord snickered, he knew he could go all-in with her, for he couldn’t see her face in the crowd, and therefore concluded with all logics that she wasn’t there. “Oh, and the ever-so-honest Applejack has done a lot of naughty and not-so-honest things, mind you. Or, well… they might actually have been honest, but she never honestly told them anyway!”

The ponies shuffled on their hooves, eager to hear the rest. Applejack primed her ears as well, although she would have done better to cover them instead.

“Our suspect,” Discord officially stated, “has been found guilty of stealing. Oh yes, I know where that first barrel of Zap Apples goes to once it has been ‘safely’ stored away in the barn. You know, the first Zap Apples of the season are always the tastiest, and even I know how hard it is to resist the temptation of tasting just one… and then another one… and another one. And so does Applejack!”

A blush spread on Applejack’s cheeks, and she was lucky to be standing backstage.

But the crowd didn’t laugh that much. They could somehow relate to Applejack; Zap Apples were the tastiest apples around, after all. At the lack of thundering laughs, Applejack sighed in relief.

When Discord saw the lack of hard-earned appreciation, he quickly continued. “Next fun-fact: Applejack once kissed a sheep.”

Bam! There it was; another awkward fact. Now the crowd did laugh, but Applejack wasn’t that amused. “No hold on a minute,” she said. “I was giving her mouth-to-mouth. The little dear would’ve choked if I hadn’t helped her.” She snorted. Part of her wanted to run up to the stage and explain herself, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to ruin the act, and besides, she could always explain herself later.

But Discord wasn’t done yet. “Now, our third blunder—and my personal favorite—has to do with her lasso skills.”

My lasso skills? Applejack thought. What could possibly be wrong with those?

“You see,” Discord said, “in order to keep in shape, she practices a lot, preferably at the break of dawn. One time, she had a very late night, I believe it was because Pinkie had thrown a party… Well, what else could it have been—it doesn’t matter. So I was lying in the sun and saw her spinning the rope in graceful curves and arcs, jumping up and down and through the loops. Then she swung her lasso high above her head. Higher, and higher, and higher…”

The ponies in the crowd bent forward, ears aimed at the stage.

“Until she finally caught something… or should I say, somepony?”

Applejack jumped up. “What?! How could he know. It-it was an accident!”

On the stage, Discord fell down on his back and laughed until tears rained down on the planks. “Hahaha! I can’t believe it! You guys should have seen her face when the poor little pegasus got plucked right out of the sky and tumbled down on top of Applejack’s head.” He rolled from one corner of the stage to the other. “Unbelievable! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! A sight more beautiful than Aurora Borealis!”

“Alright! That’s enough!” Applejack snorted.

But the crowd didn’t think it was enough. The echoes of many dozens of laughs rolled through Ponyville’s town square, forming a chorus led by Discord’s distorted chuckle.

Suddenly, one pony raised a hoof and said, “I’m sorry, Applejack. I just don’t know what went wrong.”

To that, the laughter only swelled. It was now a hurricane, able to be heard from Canterlot perhaps.

Applejack recognized the voice of the pegasus who had apologized. Then, sudden anger got a hold of her, as she realized that the crowd was not only laughing at her own innocent mistake, but might also be laughing at the poor grey pegasus which just wanted to say sorry for real. Applejack braced herself, scraped the floor with her front hoof like a bull ready for a charge, and charged up on the stage.

Discord jerked his head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and saw the galloping cowpony. “Oh, hello there, Apple—“

“Show’s over!” Applejack called, as she twirled around Discord and shoved him behind the curtains in the blink of an eye. A chorus of boos was flung after her

Pinkie Pie looked just as startled as PON-3. She nudged at the DJ, who got the message and started spinning a tune. Both ponies knew they had to keep the crowd happy. Pinkie Pie jumped on the stage, determined to save her show.

“Alright, everypony, that was Discord! Let’s give him a round of applause!”

But the crowd didn’t play along; they obviously wanted more roasts. A few of them started walking away.

“Eh…” Pinkie said, trying to keep up her smile. “Let’s… Let’s bring it up for our next act: Cheese Sandwich!”

The walking ponies turned around, and a small applause resounded anyway, growing to a large wave in a few seconds.

Pinkie made a backflip, disappearing behind the curtains, while Cheese Sandwich sprang on stage, holding a unicycle in one hoof and a couple of burning cones in the other.

“Ah, Pinkie Pie!” Discord said. “You came just in time. Please save me from this feral horse here.” He nudged with his head towards Applejack, who had him pinned down on the wooden floor.

But Applejack already stepped off the draconequus. “Don’t bother, Pinkie. I just wanted to make a point here.”

Discord got up and brushed the dust off his shoulders. “It seems somepony doesn’t have a sense of humor…”

Feeling the urge to charge at Discord again, Applejack said, “I like humor that doesn’t make other ponies look like fools in front of the whole town.”

To that, Discord said nothing, but just snorted and turned his head the other way.

“Aw! Come on you two,” Pinkie Pie said, as she walked over the planks towards them, nearly tripping over her extravagant dress. “Don’t fight on this wonderful day please. If there’s one thing I’ve learned of my life as a professional party planner, it’s that everypony has a different kind of humor. Now look at each other and say sorry.”

A bit surprised at those wise words from her friend, Applejack bit her lip and stuck out a hoof. She didn’t really want to make it up to Discord, as she still found his sense of humor crude and rude, but Applejack knew they had to come to friendly terms, were she to borrow some of the draconequus’s magic. “Alright, Discord. I’m sorry I pushed you offstage.”

Discord shook Applejack’s hoof, but didn’t look at her. “And I’m sorry I roasted your friends.” But not you, he thought afterwards, and even though he didn’t say that aloud, Applejack received the hidden message loud and clear.

“Good job, you two,” Pinkie Pie said. Then she wrapped her hooves around the two of them and embraced them into an enormous bear-hug (or pony-hug). “We’re the bestest of friends now!”

“The bestest of friends,” repeated Discord.

“Eeyup,” Applejack said.

Then Pinkie Pie let them go, content with their words. At once, Discord started rubbing his back, cracked it in every possible direction, and hovered in the air. “Well, I must say, my dear Pinkie Pie, that you’ve really outdone yourself with this party. It looks quite… chaotic. And to organize it on a random Saturday like that… Simply beautiful; a real piece of art.”

“Awwwwww, you are too kind,” Pinkie said with a blush on her face, hardly distinguishable against the soft pink of her hide. “You know, we kinda threw this party just for you.”

“Oh really?” Discord tried to out-blush Pinkie by turning as read as a lobster himself. “Oh, look, now I am the one who’s blushing.”

“The thing is,” Applejack said, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, but also wanting to get to the point already, “we wanted to ask you a favor.”

Discord started playing with his goatee, his colors returning to normal. “Do you now?” He looked like he was contemplating the offer, although Applejack hadn’t even told him what it was all about.

“Yes we do,” Pinkie said, bouncing up and down, perhaps in excitement or perhaps in nervousness.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Discord said.

Pinkie Pie stopped jumping. “Oh, it’s nothing big, really. We just want to borrow some of your super-duper-extremely-powerful-interdimensional teleportation magic to get Fluttershy back to Equestria. I think the same amount you loaned Twilight will do just fine.”

At this, Applejack winced as if she’d just stepped on a nail. She didn’t mean getting to the point that quickly. In a flash, her thoughts went back to the council, where Twilight Sparkle had lied about borrowing magic from Discord. Applejack’s guess was that she had borrowed it from somepony else. Somepony who had trusted her with a fragment of powerful magic, which Twilight had used to accidentally teleport Fluttershy to another world. Applejack reckoned that Twilight was too ashamed to admit her abuse of that magic to the rest of her friends, as she had also been so ashamed to tell her friends about Fluttershy getting teleported to Middle Earth. Surely Twilight would want as few ponies—or draconequuses—to know about the accident; and least of all Discord.

But Pinkie Pie had just blurted all of that out, right-in-your-face style, and now she looked at Discord with big, pleading eyes.

“Ho! Wait! What?!” Discord said, his long body moving in weird curves. “You… WHAT?!” He wasn’t sure if he’d heard it right, and forced himself to calm down. “Excuse me there. I must have misunderstood you. Let me rewind.”

He reached out with his furry lion-paw, and booped Pinkie on the muzzle. Immediately, her eyes turned into two backward-facing arrows. Like a rewinding tape recorder pinkie stood there, until Discord let her nose go.

“To get Fluttershy back to Equestria.” Pinkie repeated with the exact same words and the exact same intonation.

Discord shook his head in disbelief, then booped her again.

“To get Fluttershy back to Equestria.”

And again.

“To get Fluttershy back to Equestria.”

And again.

“To get Fluttershy back to Equestria.”

Then he let go of Pinkie Pie, and landed on the ground. He frowned like he had never frowned before, staring first at Pinkie Pie, then at Applejack. It looked as if he wanted to force the whole story out of the two ponies by staring them down. In a dangerously calm voice he said, “What… happened… with… Fluttershy?”

Instinctively, Applejack did a step back. But Pinkie Pie kept smiling, perhaps wondering what Discord had just done to her, but probably not.

Then, Applejack took the word. She realized that there was nothing she could do except to tell Discord the whole story. And she did. With a voice which was reluctant to let the words flow out of her mouth, she began to speak. Applejack tried to let out as many details as she could, as to speed up her story, and as to protect Twilight Sparkle as best as she could. With every sentence, Discord’s eyebrow shot up higher and higher, and his eyes grew larger and larger. Applejack told about the accident, about Middle Earth, about the forest Fluttershy might be stranded in. When Applejack became silent once more and had turned her gaze to the ground, Discord’s eyes were as big as watermelons, staring at Applejack with a gaze that spoke all the unbelievable expressions in Equestria. Discord never was a good listener, and he occasionally interrupted Applejack’s story with a gasp, a frown, a face-palm, a sigh, or a blink.

“So where is she now? Is she safe?” Discord said.

Applejack shuffled on her hooves. “We… eh… We don’t know.”

Discord staggered back and sat down on a crate. He slumped and held his head in his hands, his eyes closed. The Discord that sat down was a far cry from the slightly sarcastic stand-up comedian he was minutes ago. “Fluttershy…” he whispered.

All the while Pinkie Pie had been silent, but now she saw how she could help. “But don’t you worry, Discord, because we have a plan!”

Discord’s head shot up. “You do?!”

“Yeah,” Pinkie said, hopping closer to him with a smile, while radiating some positive energy towards Discord. “Haven’t you been listening to what I said? We are going to get her back. Twilight is doing all kinds of nerdy-birdy programming stuff, while the rest of us gather the things which are needed to fix the machine.”

Discord nodded while Pinkie spoke, breathless and silent.

“She’s right, Discord,” Applejack said, her voice calm and collected. “We can get her back. The only thing we need is some of your magic, which we then store inside crystals and shove into the machine.”

“Yes, just like you gave Twilight some,” Pinkie added.

Oh no! Applejack thought.

To that, only one eyebrow of Discord shot up. “Huh? What are you talking about? I never gave any magic to Twilight Sparkle.”

“Oh, that’s weird,” Pinkie Pie said, but then she remembered what Applejack had said behind the closed curtain. “I mean… eh… of course she—I mean, you didn’t.”

Discord looked from Pinkie to A.J.

“Don’t worry about that, Discord,” Applejack said. “That isn’t important right now. What is important right now is the magic. Can you give it to us or not?”

“Of course!” Discord suddenly swung his legs, and jumped up from the box and in the air, where he hovered with flaps of his tiny wings. Then, he twirled around in a cloak of magic and sparkles. When it settled down, the draconequus was clad in a shiny, ornate silver armor, complete with a jousting lance and a plume on his helmet. Pinkie let out an, “Oh!”

“I shall lend you my magic and enter the realm of this ‘Middle Earth,’ to save my damsel in distress.”

Applejack tilted her head. “Your… what now?”

Landing back on the ground, Discord slapped his lion claw to his face and rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go into that there teleporter and get Fluttershy out.”

“Oh,” Applejack said, completely understanding Discord’s words now. But then she jumped up. “I mean NO!”

Discord looked at A.J. with a suspicious eye. “Why not? I am certainly the most able knight you mares have—a warrior! I bet you have never jousted before. Well, of course you haven’t, because in jousting you have to sit on the horse, and not be the horse. Who would be a better candidate to enter a fantasy world than I, Discord. And besides, you don’t want to know how much Ogres and Oubliettes experience I have. My character is already level fifteen, mind you!”

Applejack didn’t understand half of what the draconequus just blurted out, and was still figuring that out when he continued.

“I will only lend you mares my magic when I can go into the teleporter and get Fluttershy back. That is the deal—take it or leave it!” And with that, he folded his arms over his shiny metal chest, his armor rattling along.

This is bad, Applejack thought. Discord wanted to go into the teleporter himself. He had already betrayed Applejack, her friends, and Equestria multiple times, so Applejack knew that throwing him into a whole new world was a bad idea. What if his evil side would shine through again? What if he secretly wanted to rule Middle Earth? From all the things that Twilight had told, Applejack reckoned that this Sauron and Discord could be best buddies in there, enslaving a whole world—albeit a fictional one. Maybe Discord would indeed be able to get Fluttershy back, but he was too much of a wild card. And besides, Applejack didn’t trust him one single bit. Not only because he tried to turn Equestria into his private playground full of randomness, but also because Applejack couldn’t read him.

With every pony Applejack encountered, she had been able to spot a lie lickety-split. No problem at all. But with Discord… There was something about him that made it impossible for Applejack to tell truth from lies when he spoke. Applejack didn’t really need to feel ashamed by that, for Discord was the spirit of chaos, after all. But the unpredictability of Discord bothered her a lot, and she never felt comfortable in his presence for long.

No. He’s not going, Applejack thought. Leave it.

“We’ll take it,” Pinkie Pie said.

“No!”

Applejack vaulted over the wooden boards right towards Pinkie Pie, almost tackling her to the ground. She grabbed hold of the pink pony and shoved her aside, as if she wanted to protect her from Discord.

“No?” Discord said. “You don’t want to save Fluttershy?”

“Yes we do!” Applejack sneered. “Just give us some time to think this through.”

“Suit yourself,” Discord said. He summoned an apple, jabbed it on the point of his lance, and began to eat it. Of course Discord was relaxed; he knew that the ponies had no choice.

“What’s the matter, A.J.?” Pinkie said. “You look stressed.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I am stressed. Do you really think sending Discord after Fluttershy would be a good idea? Do you really think that Twilight would want that? What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Pinkie said with her innocent smile and squeaky noise.

Applejack slapped a hoof to her forehead. She knew she couldn’t blame Pinkie, yet she silently wished that she would be less impulsive from time to time.

“You know, Pinkie, why don’t you let me do the talking, alright?”

Pinkie tilted her head sideways. “Oki-doki-loki!”

“That’s a good filly,” Applejack said, and patted Pinkie Pie as if she were a dog. Then, she turned around at Discord. “I’m really sorry, Discord, but we can’t do that.”

Discord almost choked on his apple. He started coughing, slamming his fist on his tummy. When at last the core of the apple flew out of his mouth and against Applejack’s cheek, he spoke with wide-open eyes. “WHAT?! It’s Fluttershy’s LIFE we’re talking about. You’re gambling with dangerous stakes here, Miss Applejack.”

Applejack frowned at this accusation. “I’m not, Discord. It’s just that we find you too unreliable. I know for sure that Twilight wouldn’t want you meddling in our business. This is serious, you know, and I doubt anypony trusts you well enough to take on such a big responsibility.”

“Aw, come on,” Discord said, as if he were begging for a cookie from his mom, but inside, he felt insulted—his pride was dented. “I’m reformed, remember? I am your friend! Am I not, Pinkie Pie?”

“Of course you are, Discord,” Pinkie blurted out, violating her non-speaking treaty with Applejack.

“See,” Discord said. “And besides, I am pretty sure that Fluttershy herself would love to see my friendly face after such an ordeal. She trusts me, anyway. She will be happy to see me again, her savior, her knight in shining armor!”

It was a good point. Applejack looked from side to side, biting her lip. This argument had been both sensible and true; she didn’t need to read Discord’s face for that, for it was a fact. Fluttershy did like Discord a lot, and considered him her friend and patient.

“Well…” Discord said, leaning forward and waiting for the words he wanted to hear.

The pressure switched Applejack’s mind into high gear. She had to find an honest answer; a way to win this debate and persuade Discord.

But she came up empty.

At last, her mind gave up. Her ears drooped down, and A.J. stared at the floor.

“You know Fluttershy loves me, Applejack,” Discord said with a sly grin, obviously enjoying using the leverage he had. “It’s no lie.”

A lie. That vile, terrible word reached the cowpony’s ears. Lying was everything she was against; the truth everything she believed in. From that word sprouted a thought, and that thought scared her. With an internal shock, traveling like a snake’s deceptive words through her mind, Applejack realized that that was the only way to win this argument, with a lie.

“Agreed.”

It looked so easy, but Applejack struggled with the words, as they together crafted a big, fat lie.

“Discord, you may go to Middle Earth if you lend us your magic.”

“Yes!” Discord somersaulted into the air. “I knew you would come around. Admitting isn’t hard you know? Trying to change someone’s mind is harder.”

Pinkie Pie cheered along, doing a funny dance while she wrapped her hoof around Applejack. “We’re gonna save Fluttershy! We’re gonna save Fluttershy!”

“You mean I am going to save Fluttershy,” Discord corrected.

“Oops sorry.” Pinkie changed the lyrics immediately. “I am gonna save Fluttershy! I am gonna save Fluttershy!”

But Applejack didn’t laugh, nor dance, nor sing. She felt dirty, having told such a grave lie. A promise she couldn’t keep. She wanted to think about some way to prevent the promise to come true, but her mind was blank. She felt like the biggest hypocrite in Equestria. f the many V#[|�<9

Chapter thirteen: the Dragon Games

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“Welcome, every dragon, to the most spectacular event of the year: The Dragon Games!”

Garble was standing on a great rocky outcropping, the Bloodstone Scepter held high. The platform on which he stood had been formed out of the basalt stones which marked the Dragon Lands’ coastline. It was right in the center, facing a tribune, and the whole arena looked like an open-air theatre. Garble stood proudly, back straight and chest puffed out, on the very same spot where Dragon-Lord Torch had spoken to his subjects on the day of his resignation. Naturally, Garble was far from resigning.

On other, lower outcroppings of hexagon-shaped basalt, many dragons roared their approval. All of the dragons which had been present at the trial were there, determined to see Chain Link’s verdict put in motion by their Dragon-Lord. But there were also new dragons, curious about the giddy procession which had marched through the Garble Gorge on its way towards the coastline. They had joined as well, and now heard exactly what Dragon-Lord Garble was going to do.

Garble breathed in, and continued his announcement. “This year’s Dragon Games have been advanced, because, as some of you may know, we have two very special guests eager to participate.”

The dragons which had been present at the trial smirked and grimaced, while the others turned at them with confused looks.

Garble saw it. “Oh, don’t be confused everyone! The candidates will be revealed to you soon enough. In fact, for it has been a long time since we’ve organized the Dragon Games, I will explain to you the rules of the game again.”

Some dragons nodded, while others rolled their eyes and contemplated whether that was really necessary. First of all, the Dragon Games didn’t have many rules, and secondly, a spectacle such as the Dragon Games wasn’t easily forgotten.

The first Dragon Games had taken place right after Garble’s coronation; the second a few months after that; the third had to be postponed because of a period of calmness in the earth. This would be the fourth. Of course, Garble hoped and knew that the Dragon Games would be a tradition he would uphold for a long, long time; both for his subject’s enjoyment as well as his own. He loved being game master.

“Rule number one,” Garble called, his voice amplified by the shape of the theatre like a judge’s microphone. “There are no rules!”

Laughing, stomping feet, and thundering earth.

Garble laughed along, an evil laugh which revealed his glittering teeth in a snarl of madness. “Alright, but seriously, the first objective of the game is to die in the least painful way possible. If that happens, you win… kind of.”

Garble paused and let the cheers and applause fill his ears, feeling like he was the main attraction of some kind of talent show, which, in a way, he was.

“The second objective is to provide us with Equestrian-class entertainment, while we sit back and relax, laugh, cry, scream, and root for the unfortunate losers!”

An applause rippled through the crowd; the other dragons were obviously looking forward to it.

Feeling the eagerness in the Sulphur-filled air, Garble decided not to delay the Games any longer. “Let’s do this!” He held the Bloodstone Scepter high above his head, and twirled it around. The stone began to glow, and for a moment, Garble looked like a fire artist performing for a crowd. When the scepter became nothing more than a ring of swirling fire, Garble thrust it on the basalt rock. A rumble went through the earth, and a crack started to form on the ground, glowing from the inside as if some hell was beneath it. With a crackling sound, the tear started to snake down Garble’s high platform and towards the tribune. It stopped when it reached a bowl-shaped decline in the stone, which looked like a stony cauldron, formed naturally by erosion. With a spark and a boom, the bowl became filled by licking flame tongues, roaring in the pit and covering each other over and over. Suddenly, an enormous flame shot up in the air, where it spread out until a giant gout of flames hovered in mid-air. A terrible heat blasted the whole theatre, but the dragons had no trouble at all handling it; some fumbled in bags and put on sunglasses.

“Alright! Let’s see what our brave contestants are up to!” Garble said. “I hereby declare the fourth Dragon Games open!”

Then, as if Garble’s words were the cue, the floating flames dispersed, only to reappear a second later, but not entirely in the same way. They merged together into a three-dimensional sculpture, showing a baby dragon and a pegasus lying on the ground, surrounded by nothing but rock and crystals.

“Game on!”

* *

“Ugh! Where are we? What happened?”

Rainbow Dash’s voice reverberated through the space and rolled away to the left and the right. Spike groaned as well, pushed aside Rainbow’s wing, and stood up.

He wanted to say, ‘I don’t know,’ but with a shock he realized that he knew exactly where they were.

Spike looked around the confined space, and saw how the tunnel led farther and farther away, ending in darkness. He saw how the tunnel buried itself further into the Gauntlet of Fire.

A sudden feeling of dread washed over him, as memories came crashing into his mind. The trials, the hunt for the Bloodstone Scepter, the collaboration with Ember, the fight with Garble. And now he was back again.

“We’re in the Gauntlet,” he said, his voice shaking.

“The what?”

But Spike was distracted. He continued to look around him, looking for dangers or hidden surprises. He couldn’t spot any things to be scared of where they were. Spike noticed that the tunnel had grooves in it, gloomily lit by the clumps of red crystals which gave off a hellish glow. He looked to the left, to the right, and concluded with a small sigh of relief that it was just an old lava-tube.

Rainbow Dash’s voice brought Spike’s mind back to reality. “You been here before?” she asked.

Spike said nothing; he just nodded with an absent gaze in his eyes.

“Alright, never mind,” Dash said. “Let’s find a way out of here, because I’m not seeing any daylight or pretty skies here.” If Dash was scared, she didn’t show it, and buried the fear instead under a heavy pile of sarcasm. But in truth, she was also a bit unnerved at the strange cave they had apparently been thrown into.

But Spike still stood frozen, looking, gazing, flashing his eyes from corner to corner.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, Spike. As Daring Do always says: ‘If there’s a prison, there must be some way out.’”

Dash scooped Spike off the rocky floor, and tossed him on her back. With the echo of her clip-clopping hooves following and leading the way, Dash marched further into the tunnel.

* *

On the basalt throne, Dragon-Lord Garble clapped his claws in delight. “Great! They’re awake. I reckon it would be quite boring watching them lying groggy on the rocks for half an hour, wouldn’t it?”

The crowd nodded or grumbled its agreement, but the dragons didn’t take their eyes off the swirling fireball, which showed Rainbow Dash walking through the tunnel, carrying Spike on her back.

“And look at our little purple genius over there!” Garble said. “Paralyzed by fear, he still managed to find out where he was—and so quickly. And they’re on the move. I like that; let actions speak for themselves. Nobody likes to see long dialogues between our contestants, right?”

The same hum of affirmation; the dragons were obviously much more captivated by the scene in the fire than by their Dragon-Lord’s words.

Garble scanned the crowd, and saw the lack of enthusiasm himself. “So you guys like to watch a pony walk through a lava tunnel more than the inspirational voice of your royal gamekeeper?”

No reaction.

But instead of exploding with anger, Garble just smirked; a cold, scheming smirk, filled by cruel thoughts. “Well then, let me give you something interesting to look at, but remember who gave it to you, and remember who suffers because of it.”

With that, he waved his scepter in the air, the crystal glowing a violent red. Then he pointed it at the floating fireball, and a gout of scarlet lightning flew right into it. For a moment, the earth began to tremble. A few sunglasses fell off a few dragons’ noses, and some dragons had to keep themselves from tipping over. The earth rumbled as if in pain, but then it was over as soon as it began.

* *

The lava tunnel went on for a long time, with only a few gentle turns and curves. Rainbow Dash did want to fly or hover in the air, but she had seen some stalactites hanging from the roof, and figured that it wouldn’t be safe. Spike, meanwhile, had come to his senses a bit. He still rode Rainbow Dash as if she were his own mount, but talked to her in a hushed voice, as if the grooved walls had ears.

He told Rainbow Dash all about his previous trials in the Gauntlet of Fire; how he conquered the many perils together with Ember, how he obtained the Bloodstone Scepter before Garble, and how he gave it away to Ember in the end, thereby crowning Ember the new Dragon-Lord—or Dragon-Lady.

All the while Rainbow Dash listened, although she wasn’t that interested in Spike’s elaboration about how he taught Ember the value of friendship, a feat which filled him with pride. He had spread the seeds of friendship, much like the other ponies did in their individual missions in Equestria—missions of which he never got to be a part.

No, Rainbow Dash was much more interested in the exact nature of the traps, the layout of the Gauntlet, its tunnels and caverns and the connections between them. Of this Spike knew not much, but Rainbow Dash could guess at the traps, as she got quite some experience at those things herself. Not necessarily practical experience, but she had read about countless traps in her favorite books: the Daring Do novels. In those books, there were always hidden temples, dangers, puzzles, traps, enemies and friends, and Rainbow Dash had read all of them at least twice, soaking up all the words to miss not a drop of awesomeness.

“Is that all?” Rainbow Dash said with a snort. “Don’t you worry, Spike. I bet we’re out of here in no time.”

They made another curve, barely noticeable because of the monotonous, round lava tube. The air became hot, and Rainbow Dash expected this. It wasn’t quite as hot as in the Garble Gorge, so it was still bearable; and besides that, Rainbow Dash had made herself a promise not to faint anymore.

A side-passage revealed itself, which they didn’t explore. It looked narrow and dark, with little promise of a way out, and much promise of a dead end, so Dash and Spike left it behind.

“We should look for a central chamber or so,” Spike said. “Last time I was in the Gauntlet of Fire, I’ve seen loads of them. They are all connected to each other with passages and tunnels, so I might be able to orient me and get a feel of where we are. If we find one central chamber, we’ll find more.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Good plan, Spike.” Wherever they were going to go, Dash didn’t feel the urge to retrace her steps. The heat had become more present, and Rainbow Dash swore that it came from behind. She swished her tail, and her flank felt warm. It reminded her of Hearth’s Warming with her friends, when she sat in Twilight’s Castle of Friendship with her back to the hearth fire. Only this warmth didn’t feel that comfortable at all. It felt like the hot breath of some big animal—a predator stalking its prey.

But Rainbow Dash shook it off and continued to march forward. It could also have been the crystals. All the way through the tunnels, they had been accompanied by the glowing red crystals, illuminating the passage as if they were trying to help Rainbow Dash and Spike. They lay scattered through the tunnel; sometimes embedded in the roof, merging with the stalactites hanging like spikes in the air; other times gathered in tight clusters on the floor or against the wall. At one point, there had been loads of them gathered together in a small part of the tunnel, which they had left behind.

Spike missed those crystals. They were the only source of light, and now they were absolutely absent. Rainbow Dash and Spike entered a part of the tunnel that became progressively darker, as the number of crystals declined. The light rapidly diminished, until Spike couldn’t see anything in front of him anymore.

“Darn it!” Rainbow Dash said. “I should have bucked off a piece of that shiny stuff and carry it along. I can’t see a hoof in front of my eyes.”

“Yes,” Spike said. His voice was wavering, as he felt lost in the dark void. He really longed for those crystals now, and turned around to try and spot at least some light in the dark.

There it was, a faint glow far away. Red-orange it glowed, illuminating the end of the tunnel which was actually the way back. Spike turned back around. “Perhaps there’ll be more of them up ahead… I hope… ”

“Yeah, me too,” Dash said. She would like to see some light as well; some light and some fresh air, because the air in the lava tube began to smell bad. It smelled like the air in the capital city: rotten eggs in a salad of Sulphur. Rainbow Dash coughed. “Do you smell that?”

“What?” Clearly, Spike had gotten accustomed to the scent—it was the scent of his homeland after all.

“Never mind,” Dash said; she didn’t want to look like a whiner, even though the temperature seemed to have risen again.

Then, there was a silence, broken only by the sound of Dash’s hooves on the rocks. Spike wanted to say something—anything—but found that the Gauntlet of Fire was no place to start small talk. He felt the fear creeping up to him, and after some more time, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned around, reckoning that the sight of the light-emitting crystals would comfort him.

What he saw didn’t comfort him.

The glow had come closer, and Spike saw what it was; definitely not the crystals.

Spike turned around. “Rainbow Dash! We gotta g—”

A terrible rumble resounded, amplified a thousand times by the echo of the lava tube. The tunnel shook. Rainbow Dash crashed to the ground; Spike rolled off her back. Instantly, as if someone had thrown a thousand more logs on the hearth fire, the heat spiked. When the rumble ceased, a sloshing sound replaced it; a sound Rainbow Dash couldn’t quite place.

When they were up again, Spike jumped on the pegasus’s back, and planted his heels against her flank. “Rainbow Dash! Fly!”

Dash wanted to ask why, object, look around, but the heat sucked all of her energy away. Automatically, she began galloping the other way, towards the coolness, until she stretched her wings and flew through the lava tube on the hot air.

Spike desperately grabbed Dash’s mane. “Don’t look back, Dash,” he said with a trembling voice. He was shaking over his whole body, as if the air felt really cold instead of blazing hot. “Keep going!”

But Rainbow Dash did look back; she wanted to know what she was fleeing from, and whether she could fight it. Then, another rumbling sound filled the cave, accompanied by a dazzling pain in Dash’s head. She tumbled down on the ground, accompanied by a large piece of broken stalactite.

Like a trainer urging his boxer on, Spike helped Dash on her hooves. Before she took to the air again, she looked around.

“Holy hay!”

The gurgling and the heat belonged to a roiling magma stream. It sizzled, hissed, and roared like some predatory beast, as it sprinted towards the dragon and the pegasus, ready for the kill. Rocks melted in its path, surrendering themselves to the inferno.

Rainbow Dash turned around, scooped up spike, and took to the air. Like a bullet through a barrel did Rainbow Dash shoot through the lava tube, careful enough to keep her eyes forward. The temperature raised and raised, and sweat beaded off Dash’s body, immediately evaporating in the insane heat.

“Spike! How close is it!”

But Spike had covered his eyes with his claws. “I don’t know! I don’t wanna know!”

Hadn’t Dash’s tongue felt so dry, she would have said something insulting, but now, her every fiber was focused on survival.

Survival of the fastest.

Despite being a fireproof dragon, Spike felt horror and panic take a hold of his mind. He knew he would survive the heat, but he also knew that he wouldn’t survive being dragged through the cave in a wild water magma river. He would be like a stone in a white, foaming stream, scraping against the bottom and slamming against obstacles, until the stone would break into a thousand pieces, becoming nothing but fluttering dust.

Dash didn’t look; Spike didn’t look, but still, Rainbow Dash tried to find out how close the swirling fire was. She focused on the temperature, on the sound of popping and cracking rocks, exploding underneath the blanket of magma. It was hard to pinpoint.

A stalactite came. Dash swung to the right. Her wing grated against the rock, and for a second she wobbled in the air. With a shock, Rainbow Dash realized that the lava tube was getting narrower now. Fly, fly, fly, was the only word that resounded in Dash’s head. She had had close calls before, but never something as extreme like this. She gritted her teeth and flapped her wings. She was not going to die like this. At least she would have her revenge on Garble.

In the distance, speeding closer like two baseball bats in full swing, two columns blocked the way.

“Hold on, Spike! This is gonna be tight!”

But when the columns were at a throwing distance, Rainbow realized that she couldn’t sidle through; not even when she would fly sideways. Spike would be knocked off her back, and if the skull-cracking blow wouldn’t kill him, the magma would swallow him whole in the blink of an eye.

“Hold on Spike!”

Rainbow Dash arched her back, making Spike fly through the air. Spike had no idea what Dash was going to do, and in panic he waved his claws in the air, hoping to grab hold of something. That something was Dash’s tail. Now he dangled on Dash’s rainbow tail, and would certainly slam against the rocks when Dash would fly sideways.

It was as if Dash intended to do just that, as she sped up with a dozen vigorous flaps of her wings. She went faster and faster, and Spike had trouble holding on, using two claws against the g-forces. The air roared against his face, and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he and Dash were through the gap.

“What? Huh? How?”

Had situations been different, Rainbow Dash would have winked and thrown Spike a funny smile which would say, ‘I told you I could do it.’ But the situation was far from suitable. Thanks to Dash’s speed, Spike hadn’t dangled downwards, but had instead hung perfectly horizontally on Dash’s tail. He hadn’t lost his head. “When I say go, let go!” Dash shouted to him.

Against the roaring stream and the cracking of the earth, Spike couldn’t hear what Dash said.

“Three, two, one... GO!”

Rainbow Dash gave her tail a flick. Spike made a small somersault before landing neatly on her back, albeit facing the wrong way.

Behind them, the twin columns melted and crumbled as if they were made out of cardboard. The magma stream was closing in.

Now, sitting on his mount the wrong way, Spike couldn’t do anything but watch the magma behind them. It gurgled and sloshed, as if some creature was inside of it, pushing the molten rock forward in its rage and hatred against its two unfortunate victims.

Suddenly, a nasty scent penetrated through Spike’s nostrils; a burning scent. With a jolt, Spike saw how Rainbow Dash’s tail caught fire. The tip was already smoldering and smoking, and the fire crept closer in the direction of her cutie mark. Spike snatched the wavering tail, and stuck it in his mouth, swallowing the fire and gulping down the flames.

Dash cocked her head. “What the hay?”

“You’ll thank me later,” Spike answered. “You gotta go faster!”

But Rainbow Dash had the feeling that she couldn’t go any faster. She felt as if the heat surrounded her in a blanket, blocking her wings from moving. Her lips were bone-dry, as were her eyes. Somehow, Dash thought that she would explode when she would fly even faster. The only gear faster than this would be a straight-out Sonic Rainboom. And creating a small sonic blast in an underground lava-tunnel didn’t seem like a good idea to her.

Once more Spike blinked and looked at the magma. He could clearly see the waves swell, and the ground turning red.

“We’re not gonna make it!”

As soon as those words left the dragon’s mouth, another rumble went through the cave, showering Rainbow Dash with falling stones and dust. In front of her, a few stalactites broke off. Behind her, the cave wall collapsed.

Like the tributary of a river, another magma stream erupted from the collapsed wall like a sideways volcano, adding its deadly contents to the rushing stream.

Spike saw it; Rainbow Dash didn’t. But she didn’t even need to see what was going on to know that her chances of survival were slimmed down dramatically.

Very dramatically.

The heat became unbearable, and Rainbow Dash felt herself slowing down. The flaps of her wings became longer and slower, and her breath came in quick, panting bursts.

She thought about what she would do for one drop of water. One single drop of water, and she would be able to fly miles more—in her head anyway.

The will to live and the strength to face this challenge changed from determination to desperation. Don’t let me die like this! Don’t let me die like this! Don’t let me die like this!

Another rumble. Another wave of magma added behind them to the white-hot stream.

Both Rainbow Dash and Spike realized that when one of those side streams would break through in front of them, they would be pinned down.

Then it would be over.

Both Rainbow Dash and Spike realized that time was running out. There was nothing Spike could do; there was nothing Rainbow Dash could do either, because the tiredness evaporated all her hope.

Rainbow Dash was not going to last much longer. It was not just the feeling of tiredness that sapped her strength, for frustration started to bubble up like the magma stream behind her. Frustration that there was nothing she could do against this enemy. The frustration that she could do nothing against Garble, who would probably be planning an invasion—or worse—who would probably be laughing at her, content that he had murdered her in this cruel way. Frustration that she was going to die in this Celestia-forsaken cave.

That frustration filled her strength.

Closing her eyes, Rainbow Dash slowed down. She felt the rage burning inside of her, scorching away her tiredness like the heat had scorched away her tail.

“What are you doing?!” Spike yelled.

But Rainbow Dash didn’t listen. For a few seconds, her mind wandered off to the Wonderbolt Academy, where she was stationed as a cadet. She remembered a lesson Spitfire had taught her; a lesson she needed right now. ‘Grab the energy wherever you can find it,’ Spitfire had said. ‘Whether it be love, anger, friendship—it doesn’t matter. Grab an emotion between your teeth, then grind it down until the energy powers your wings. That is how a true Wonderbolt faces a crisis, by using power from unexpected places. Turn weaknesses into strengths!’

Those could have been Dash’s last thoughts, but they weren’t. Rainbow Dash gritted her teeth so hard she thought they might break, grinding the frustration into energy. She let it all flow through her body, through her wings, and for a moment, she felt stronger than Bulk Biceps. She felt as if her wings doubled in size. She felt invincible.

“Now!”

With one flap of her wings, she reached the appropriate speed. With the second flap of her wings, she let loose a skull-cracking roar, taking the shape of a rainbow halo. With the third flap of her wings, a rainbow shine trailed after her, and her tail grew back as if a spell had been cast on it.

The whole cavern shook and rumbled. It felt as if Gauntlet of Fire was going to erupt there and then. Behind Dash, dozens of new magma streams joined their big brother, and sprinted towards Rainbow Dash and Spike.

One last death-sprint to catch the animals.

Cracks appeared like lightning bolts on the wall and the roof. Stones began raining down on the flash flood of magma. Even though they sizzled, they held. Tiny splashes of magma sidled through the openings of the dam, but new stones quickly fell into place to smother the resistance. It seemed as if the whole roof collapsed on the magma stream, choking it to death. Mere seconds later, the red-hot light doused, and the cave was filled only with silence and dust.

* *

“Hahaha! Now that was quite something, wasn’t it?”

Every dragon sat on the tip of its rock, staring at the blazing light on the hovering fireball sculpture.

It was dragon tradition to place bets on the hours or minutes you would think the contestants would survive. These bets were gathered by the Dragon-Lord, who saw to it that the proper taxes were paid over the amounts, and that the winners got their fair share—if the Dragon-Lord was feeling generous.

And now, some dragons started looking around uncomfortably with frowns on their faces, for they realized they had lost the bet.

“Alright, every dragon!” Garble called out. He fumbled behind his back and behind one of his large spines, then he pulled out a golden pocket watch. “The time is three o’clock, so everyone who has betted on other times hereby lose their mon—“

“Wait!” a big, fat dragon shouted, and stabbed a claw at the fireball.

“How dare you interrupt your Dragon-Lord like that!“ Garble yelled. But when no reaction came, not even from the guards, Garble himself looked at the scene.

The dragons who’d placed their bets on three o’clock roared at the fireball.

* *

Two piles of dust and rocks littered the floor of the cave, slightly separated from the bigger ones of the Rainboom-induced rock avalanche. One was slightly bigger than the other, lying next to it. The pile began to tremble, and rocks rolled off onto the ground. Slowly, as if she got out of her bed, Rainbow Dash scrambled to her hooves. She wobbled for a second, but caught her balance. She felt a strange void in her head as the blood slowly returned to it. Her ears still rang from the sound, and she felt bruised and battered as if she’d practiced one failing trick all day long. A quick inspection revealed that Dash was covered in bruises as blue as her coat and burn marks as black as her pupils. Nothing too severe, Rainbow Dash concluded, even though she felt as if her bones were bent and twisted from the g-forces of the Sonic Rainboom. At least I’m alive…

But was Spike alive as well? Dash reckoned that the little dragon had had a lot to endure. And now, doubt started to form like a stormy cloud in her head whether or not it had been too much for him.

She jumped over her pile, almost bent her knees in an odd direction, steadied herself, and began digging in the other pile with her hooves.

At last, some purple appeared between the rocks.

“Spike! Are you ok?”

No answer.

“Spike!”

Rainbow Dash prodded the body of Spike the dragon, but when no reaction came, she dug even further. Then she bit his tail, and dragged him from underneath the pile of rubble.

“Spike!”

Still no answer.

Now Rainbow Dash started to feel desperate. She paced around in circles, thinking of a way to get Spike back to the conscious world—if that was even possible. After a few circles, she turned back to Spike, picked him up, and slapped him twice across the face; she wasn’t an animal doctor like Fluttershy, and she knew that that method always worked with herself.

“Come on, Spike. Wake up, wake up, wake up! You have to be alive!”

Tears began to sting in her eyes, as the dragon stayed limp. Dash blinked them away with a grunt.

“Spike… Are you alive?”

Her voice was weak now, as she knew that talking to a corpse was madness. Still, she felt that no method was mad enough, as long as Spike would live.

“No.”

With a jolt, Rainbow Dash dropped the dragon. “Spike! You scared the hay out of me!” Quickly she flung away her tears as inconspicuously as possible, but her voice was hoarse, and it was not because of the dust. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Spike scrambled up, rubbing his back. “Glad to see you too, Rainbow Dash.”

The little dragon looked absolutely ravaged. He didn’t have the burn marks which Rainbow Dash bore, for dragons were fireproof. Instead, he had a nasty scrape on his head, right next to his green spines. He tried to touch it with bruise-covered arms, but he flinched.

“We’ll let Fluttershy look after that once we’re out of here,” Rainbow Dash said. “At least it’s not bleeding.”

“If we get out of here,” Spike remarked.

“No, when!” And with that, Rainbow Dash turned around and started walking further into the lava tube.

Spike threw one more glance at the massive stone wall behind him, which looked as if it were crafted by giant hands or hooves, while in reality, it had been something even more powerful.

Once again, they became surrounded by silence. It almost seemed like a false, plastic silence, as the violence which they had encountered an hour ago still ranged in their ears. Rainbow Dash tried not to focus on the pain of her sore bones or limbs, and kept her gait as steady as possible.

Spike was also walking, as he had said that he was able to; he was a big dragon, he said. With every step he felt pain somewhere in his body, and sometimes everywhere. Spike wished there was some way to distract himself from his pains, nudged Rainbow Dash, and forced his voice to be strong, although he himself felt weak. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?” Their voices echoed through the space, so they didn’t have to talk that loudly, for which they both felt grateful.

“That explosion… It was a Sonic Rainboom, wasn’t it?”

Rainbow Dash nodded slowly.

Spike fumbled with his claws. “You… you saved my life. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dash said, sounding as casually as she could. Then she managed a small smirk. “Just don’t tell Twilight, alright?”

“Huh? Why not? It was awesome!”

Now Dash really chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, Spike. But… you know… It was also kinda reckless. I’m sure Twilight could use her smart-ass calculations to point out a million more things that could have gone wrong.”

“Probably,” Spike said. “But nothing went wrong, right? It was perfectly executed. I’m sure Spitfire would be proud of you.”

“Hehe, thanks.” Dash started a battle with a blush, which she won.

Spike nudged her playfully. “Hey, I’m sure Daring Do would be proud of you.”

Now Dash lost her battle. “Oh, shut up, you.”

Spike chuckled, as he noticed Dash’s blush clearly, all too visible under the red lights of the crystals, which made it look as if she was entirely red. For a second, the horrors of being locked up inside a living volcano seemed far away, as the echo of their laughs reverberated through the caves.

Then Rainbow Dash stopped laughing, and turned her head to the ground for a moment. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “A million things could have gone wrong. The cave wall could have collapsed right on top of our heads; the magma might have swelled with new side streams, maybe even in front of us; or perhaps we would have opened up the Gauntlet and make it erupt.”

“Well, at least we would have been spit right out of it, right?”

Dash couldn’t help it, and let out a burst of laughter while patting Spike on the head, careful not to touch his grave wound. “That’s right, Spike. And I guess those ways would be better ways to die than drowning in a white-hot magma stream, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes…” he said, although such black humor felt a little sour on his tongue. They weren’t out of the Gauntlet of Fire yet. He decided to change subject. “So why did you do it?”

“What? The sonic Rainboom?”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Rainbow Dash thought about the reason, but then discovered that she couldn’t find it. She couldn’t find any logical or rational thought behind her actions. “I… I don’t know. I… kinda knew the risks, but it just… happened. I guess it was instinct or something. I didn’t really think about it.”

Spike nodded. “I guess we’re gonna need our instincts to survive this one, aren’t we?”

Rainbow Dash said nothing, but glanced at spike and slowly nodded her head.

They walked on and on through the lava tube, monotonous save for the all-too-familiar red crystals, illuminating the straight cavern. They didn’t speak anymore, and instead primed their senses for the unexpected, occasionally gazing behind and expecting to see an orange glow in the distance. Spike kept gazing all around him, as if he was looking for some monster to jump from the shadows and snatch him into them, never to reappear. It was by this vigilance that Spike noticed that the lava tube began to change.

The walls became straight and smooth. Not gradually, but abruptly, and Spike wondered how long it had been this way. The wall looked as if somepony had melted the rock of the wall and then smoothed it with careful strokes of precision tools. This part of the cave looked pony-made.

“Rainbow Dash?”

“Hmm?”

She followed Spike’s claw, and saw the straight walls. Then she glanced at the roof, and saw that that was smooth as well, like the roof of a building.

“That’s weird…”

Further ahead, illuminated in the glow of some crystals, were columns. Big, straight columns chipped out of the same basalt that made up the rest of the lava tube. But Dash’s attention was focused on another thing. The red crystals that stood near the columns and cast their red shine upon them were no longer just clumps of stone; they were straight, orderly, tooled. Fanned out in graceful shapes, looking kind of like crops of plants growing from the rocks, they stood at regular, set intervals, obviously planted there on purpose.

The cave no longer looked like a naturally-shaped lava tube; it was a hallway.

Rainbow Dash looked at Spike. “Did you see this stuff as well when you were looking for the Bloodstone Scepter?”

“Nuh-uh,” Spike said, shaking his head.

Dash wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that this was a new part of the volcano which Spike didn’t recognize meant that they were lost. But somehow Rainbow Dash didn’t even mind, as the crafted hallway bore the hope of at least some signs of civilization. Despite Spike’s words, Rainbow Dash had the feeling that they were going in the right direction.

They continued their way, craning their necks and examining the stones as if they were two archaeologists exploring a new site. Rainbow Dash had the feeling that she had entered one of her Daring Do books. Traps, dangers, enemies; the only things missing were treasures. Suddenly, Dash spotted once more grooves and scrapes in the rock, higher than eye level. When she looked even more closely, she saw that they were carved at regular intervals, separated by points or horizontal lines, not at all like the bore of the lava-tube. Dash thought they looked like letters or sentences; a language Daring Do would obviously decipher in mere minutes.

“Hey Spike, can you read this?”

Spike looked up, and saw the markings as well. They were quite high for him, so he jumped on Rainbow Dash’s back. Dash winced, but didn’t complain.

“They look like… dragon language,” Spike said. “I have learned a little bit of dragon language from Twilight’s books.” He jumped off Dash’s back. “But I’m afraid I can’t read this. I recognize some letters, but that’s it. It’s probably an older dialect.”

“That’s a shame,” Dash said. “It might have revealed the location of the next trap, or pointed the way out of here. Perhaps it says, ‘Follow the red arrows for the emergency exit.’” Dash’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The hallway continued, the markings continued, the pillars continued. A side-passage opened, but it was dark and looked unimportant; the markings on its wall also disappeared, so they left it behind. Dash and Spike noticed how the roof became higher and higher, and soon they couldn’t see it anymore. Slowly, the ground beneath their feet became steadier and smoother as well, although there were still some dents in it here and there. Once, Spike had stopped and pointed at the ground, where a big claw mark, fanned out like a leaf of a chestnut tree, was embedded in the stone. There was no doubt about it; this hallway was made by dragons.

Another bend came, which they followed. A dark hallway lay before them. Then, Spike froze.

Before him, he could see an orange-red glow—magma.

“Rainbow Dash, look!”

Spike’s cry in the silence made Dash jump. She stared ahead, saw the light, and gasped.

“Run!” Spike yelled, and turned around.

“No, wait!” Dash reached out and grabbed the dragon.

They stood like that for a couple of minutes, gazing ahead at the light, which glowed like the tip of a unicorn’s horn. Rainbow Dash smelled the air. Sulphur. There was definitely magma at the end of the hallway, but it didn’t come closer. Nothing happened. No sloshing sounds or exploding stones. No wild, white-hot torrent came their way. It was just the light, at the end of the tunnel.

“Let’s go,” Dash said, and lead the way again, with Spike trailing behind.

* *

“Now that’s quite interesting, isn’t it?” And while he said that, Garble stood up, and walked to the edge of the basalt plateau of the high throne.

Every other dragon’s gaze was lost in the fireball. They had never seen something like that before. Not only the spectacle with the magma flow, but also the strange hallway their contestants had just discovered left them captivated.

And so was Garble.

He looked at the passage, at the markings, the pillars, the composition of the hallway. He had read some books about dragon culture (making sure that no other dragon would find out), for it had been necessary for him to know some things. What he saw now, he recognized.

Could it be…?

A gasp went through the public; even Garble himself gasped at what the fireball revealed next.

* *

In front of Dash and Spike’s eyes, a world of gold opened.

They stood on a bridge, which covered a flowing, bubbling magma stream, sprouting from somewhere up the roof in a golden waterfall and disappearing through an unseen gap. The glow from the stream illuminated an enormous pile of gold. Coins, chalices, idols, swords, spears, crowns, or just plain golden bars littered the other side of the bridge. The roof of the enormous treasure chamber was held by two gargantuan dragon statues clad in crystal-adorned armor, bearing the weight of the roof in their claws, while magma streamed through a few cracks and collected at their feet in a stone basin. Their stone tails formed a barrier, separating the glittering gold piles from the flowing magma river.

Spike and Rainbow Dash were breathless. Compared to the darkness of the cave, the golden glittering everywhere seemed to burn hotter on their eyes than the magma stream from which they had had to flee. They rubbed their eyes and looked again, but the treasure room was still there.

“Now it’s just like a Daring Do book,” Rainbow Dash whispered.

She walked slowly over the bridge, then flapped her wings and hovered in mid-air. The feeling of drifting in the air felt like a liberation after the confined spaces of the lava tube, and Rainbow Dash smiled as she hovered over the treasure.

It was a hoard worthy of a Dragon-Lord. Rainbow Dash silently wondered how many villages had been raided and plundered in order to collect such a pile. It wasn’t only gold, for there were many gemstones as well, shining their multi-colored light against the walls and the roof of the treasure chamber. Rainbow Dash picked one up; it was the purest, most translucent gem she’d ever seen.

Spike, meanwhile, had clambered over the stone tails, tumbled down, and rolled right into the pile. But of course, he didn’t mind. He began to chuckle, then to laugh, then to yell, “A treasure! We’re rich, Rainbow Dash!”

“Yeah,” Dash said, looking down at Spike, who buried himself in the gold pile as if he were playing like a filly in a new playground. “It seems we’re getting something out of this adventure after all.”

“You betcha,” Spike said, while he picked up a gemstone, inspected it for a second, and then threw it into his mouth. “Oh, that’s good!”

Rainbow Dash flapped her wings and flew up higher in the treasure chamber. She flew towards the roof, inspecting the walls and the hole where the magma-fall came from. “It’s just a shame it’s not what we’re looking for… ” She thought about Fluttershy. All the gold in the world wouldn’t help her to return to Equestria. After a few circles, Rainbow Dash let out a sigh, flew back to one of the dragon statues, and landed on its tail.

“There’s no way out, Spike. We gotta go back.” Dash said. “Perhaps we can go through that side passage we saw.”

“Go back?” came Spike’s muffled voice from somewhere in the gold pile. Then he burst through the pile like a mole, and sat down on top of it with a gem in his claw. “But we’ve just arrived.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Remember that one friend of ours we have to save from a world which grows more and more evil by the minute?”

“Eh… oops.” Dash’s sarcasm brought Spike back to the present. “You’re right, Rainbow Dash, I’m sorry. Let me just gather a few things and then we’ll go.”

“Gather a few things?” Dash said. Spike sounded as if he were going to gather some luggage for a trip, which was exactly what he was doing. After a few minutes of digging around, he jumped out of the pile and onto the bridge, clutching a sizable portion of multi-colored crystals.

Rainbow Dash just rolled her eyes and smiled. She took to the air and led the way over the bridge. “At least you’re not gonna starve to death.”

“Nope,” Spike said as he tossed a blue gem in the air, caught it on his tongue, and munched it with his eyes closed. “Soooooo good!”

The crunch of Spike’s teeth wasn’t the only sound which started to fill the treasure chamber. When Spike swallowed the gem, and picked up another one, Rainbow Dash laid a hoof on his claw. “Wait.”

It was a hum, or a growl, reverberating through the vast space of the treasure chamber. In her head, Rainbow Dash scolded herself for her carelessness. It was just as Daring Do had said, ‘There’s no treasure without a trap.’

Dash jerked her head around, and saw for herself what her carelessness had gotten Spike and her in.

From the overflowing bowls which caught the tips of the magma-falls, a blaze erupted. The temperature in the room swelled, and magma spattered out of the chalices across the room.

But Rainbow Dash wasn’t going to wait for the trap to close. She grabbed Spike, put him on her back, and dashed out of the room. “Hey, what are you—“ Spike tried to say, as he lost half of his gems. When he saw what came after them, he dropped the other half.

Two fiery figures erupted from the magma chalices. Fiery beasts with wings of living flame, and maws with teeth of iron. They rushed over the bridge, their tails swinging like flaring whips in the air, tipped with steel spikes.

Rainbow Dash pounded her wings up and down. She was able to fly much faster in this hallway than she had been in the lava tube, as there were no obstructions hanging on the wall. The tiles and runes flashed by on either side, and Dash’s mind raced just as fast, estimating where the side passage had been—and hoping it wouldn’t be a dead end.

Behind them, the two monsters ran side-by-side through the treasure chamber, leaving a trail of fire behind. Once they’d crossed the bridge, it collapsed into the magma with a loud sizzle. They flapped their wings, and took to the sky, the hallway being just high enough for them to navigate in.

A terrible roar cut through the air, coming from one of the creature’s hollow, fiery lungs. The roar ended in a lance of fire, which flashed through the hall.

Spike had just enough time to think, they are dragons, before the lance was within spitting distance. He didn’t think, he spit. Spike spit like he had never done before, and in front of his eyes, the hallway erupted in a screen of flames. Green fire mingled with red fire, and then the hall was dark again, as both flames dissolved.

“Whoa! What was that there?!” Dash said.

But Spike was totally out of breath, and panted too much to form words.

One of the beasts looked at the other in puzzlement. Then both of their eyes gleamed, and their teeth glittered in the shine. Both of them howled, flapped their massive wings, and rushed into a dive.

“Go right!” Spike yelled.

Dash never disobeyed an order. For a second, she felt as if she were doing a flying exercise, in another second, she veered to the right, but then almost fell out of the sky.

An infernal heat touched like a white-hot flatiron down on her belly. She looked, and gazed right into the eyes of one of the monsters. They were flying right next to each other in the narrow hallway, and if the beast would only roll to the side, Rainbow Dash would be sandwiched between the wall and its fiery body.

And that was exactly what it did.

Dash felt as if her coat caught fire, and fainted. Spike felt the cold ground before he saw it.

“NO!”

They rolled over each other, until they finally came to a halt in a cloud of dust and smoke.

Spike jumped to his feet, fell down, then stood up again. His gaze jumped to the sky, then to Rainbow Dash.

The beasts were a lot faster than them, and were already farther in the hallway. They met in the air and flew next to each other for a few seconds. The one who had brought down Rainbow Dash suddenly stopped, looked around, then back, where its eyes met Spike’s.

“Rainbow Dash! Get up! We have to fly!”

But Rainbow Dash couldn’t stand on her hooves, let alone fly. When Spike walked towards her head, he gasped. Rainbow Dash’s belly was blood-red. At some places her hide was charred, and the wound was rimmed with a black trail of ash. It looked horrible, but there was no time to wonder whether she was alive or not. Another roar resounded, and Spike estimated the distance in a flash of a second.

He grabbed Dash’s hooves, and started pulling her along, careful enough not to let her belly scrape over the floor.

The monsters were closing in.

Spike couldn’t believe his eyes. They had been so close!

Right in front of him, the side passage opened up. It was much narrower than the main hall, and Spike silently thanked every dragon which had made the structure for that. He gritted his teeth, and dragged Dash around the corner.

In the distance there were a few red crystals. Other than that, it was just a normal side passage.

Behind him, Spike heard a crash and he looked around. One of the monsters was shaking its head, while the other stepped over its comrade, and advanced on Spike without waiting for the other one to catch up.

Rainbow Dash was easily twice as heavy as Spike, but he didn’t give up. He gritted his teeth and pulled for all he was worth. In a flash, he imagined himself big and strong again, as he was when he nearly destroyed Ponyville in his greed-fueled growth spurt. He remembered the strength flowing through his limbs; he had tasted the power which a full-grown dragon possesses. Now, however, he was just little Spike the baby dragon, but that didn’t stop his will to live—and his will to save Rainbow Dash.

The fiery, iron-fanged monster let out another roar, together with its comrade. They weren’t flying anymore, but it looked as if they were just as fast while running. Running, pouncing, leaping. Spike didn’t want to, but he glanced behind him anyway. He realized he was not going to make it—not with Rainbow Dash, at least.

What Spike didn’t realize, was that he had reached the end of the side passage. When he turned his head around, he was greeted by cold, hard stone.

A dead end.

“No…”

There was nothing more he could do. With one last heave, he dropped Rainbow Dash right in front of the stone wall. Then he turned around, gazing right into the blazing eyes of the two fire monsters.

If they felt cruelty, their hollow, flame-encrusted eyes didn’t show it. No, they had the same emptiness of any predator’s eyes. Living only for the moment. Living only to kill and feed and survive.

They stood together now, filling the hallway with a pulsing, orange glow, as their flaming heads looked upon Spike. Perhaps they wanted to look their prey into the eye one last time, before they would finish them off. Perhaps they examined their prey as to remember how the intruders had looked before they would be digested in their infernal stomachs. Perhaps they had never seen a pony with wings, lying gravely wounded against the rocks; or perhaps they had never seen a dragon so small and powerless, bowing over his friend as if to protect her, even though he knew it would be futile.

But still Spike stood there. Arms stretched, eyes narrowed. He would not go down without a fight. He had blocked their fire breaths with his own, and although he knew he could do nothing against their massive, iron-bound claws or teeth, he would not leave Rainbow Dash alone.

If they would go, they would go together.

At last, the monsters had enough of their game. Spike saw them leaning back, like cats ready to jump. Their scorching muscles contracted and quivered. Their whole bodies were preparing for the kill. Their tails waved. They pounced.

There was nothing Spike could do. His last thought before darkness stuck out its claw and pulled him into the shadows was, Why in Equestria would dragons build a dead end?

* *

“And that is the end of Spike the rookie dragon and Rainbow Splash the rocking horse,” Garble said.

The fireball screen flickered once more, with the two fiery beasts in the picture, then it dissolved into sparkles, which scattered on the wind.

Cheers, roars, commotion, anger, delight, or sadness that the game was over so soon.

“The time is six o’clock,” Garble announced, “so we have ten winners. You can collect your prize at the bank of the Garble Gorge.” He pretended to be enthusiastic and clapped his claws. “Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations.”

Exactly ten dragons raised their claws into the air and belched victory shots. The others either ignored them or hurled insults at them. The crowd started to disperse and retreat in the direction of home, flying or walking, and the sky became crowded with all the flying dragons. Only Garble’s personal guard stayed behind, a cordon of two dozen dragons, and presented itself before the high throne.

With a smile on his face, Garble started to descend the basalt stairs, snaking around the big clump of rocks. It had been a good game, with a lot of action, just the way he liked it—just the way every dragon likes it. But still, even though the game was over, his mind was not at ease. He had seen the rune-engraved halls and the treasure room with his own two eyes, things he had read about in his books. Now he knew for certain that there was more to the Gauntlet of Fire than meets the eye.

“Out of all places…”

He would definitely send a scouting party to comb out the volcano and find that mysterious hallway together with the treasure room—although it wasn’t necessarily the treasure he was after. But first, he had an invasion to plan. Weapons had to be forged, armor had to be crafted, soldiers had to be trained. A few commands would do, then he would go into the Gauntlet with his guard. Or maybe tomorrow—he wasn’t in a hurry.

Maybe I’ll retrieve the corpses of that pony and Spike, he thought. Always nice to put some charred bones on display. Or perhaps I’ll put them on the mantelpiece…

Garble grinned. With the element of loyalty gone, Equestria would be weakened. Of course he had read about the elements of harmony, and how they protected Equestria. Know the enemy and know yourself, then victory will be inevitable.

Soldiers without loyalty… How would those fight?

Garble reached his squadron, which saluted him and stepped aside all at the same time; they were very well trained, as Garble had personally overseen the training drills. Only the toughest and most awesome dragons were allowed in his personal guard. He pretended they weren’t there, unfurled his wings, and led the way towards the Garble Gorge, all the while wondering how an army without loyalty would fight, and grinning at the thought.

What a wonderful day, today. S'�%[��=9

Chapter fourteen: prisoners of war

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With a jolt, Fluttershy opened her eyes and sat upright. She breathed heavily, and looked as if she had risen from the dead, illuminated by a ray of watery sunlight.

Instantly, she recalled the dream she had. There was magic, and an eye, and fire. Fluttershy blinked her eyes. The feeling of fear still occupied her mind like a dark cloud, and she shook her head, trying to whisk it away.

Fluttershy scooted over to the rim of Radagast’s bed, and stepped out onto the floor. But the wounds on her hooves threatened to make her fall to the floor. A glow of pain traveled through her legs, and Fluttershy dropped to the bed again. Raising one hoof, another shock occupied her body, as she realized what kind of wounds they were.

Burn marks.

She couldn’t recall her dream exactly and accurately, as is common with most dreams, but she knew there had been fire.

“Radagast?”

Even though Fluttershy’s voice was meek and soft, Radagast must surely hear her, for his cottage was but a small one.

Fluttershy hadn’t heard mumbling, the turning of pages, or the scribble of Radagast’s quill as he worked on the spell that would send her back home. And Fluttershy couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the kitchen, if Radagast would be preparing a cheerful breakfast.

“Radagast?”

Her second call was louder, and now it reached some ears.

Alexander the robin came flying down. He had been keeping watch all night, but had fallen asleep, and silently scolded himself for that, letting out a shrill chirp. A couple of other animals came hopping, slithering, crawling, or scuttling out of their hiding places and nests. They stopped and gathered themselves around the bed. Badgers tilted their striped heads, birds fluttered down onto the table and hopped restlessly from one foot to the other, mice stood on their hind legs. All of them were waiting for Fluttershy to say something.

“Oh, thank you all so much for your concern,” Fluttershy said, looking each creature in the eyes and smiling a soft smile. “I had the most awful of dream tonight. I dreamed about Radagast trying to get me back to Equestria, but then something went wrong and there was a lot of fire.”

With the word ‘fire,’ Fluttershy looked at her wounds. She hung her head down. “I’m confused…”

All of the animals saw that Fluttershy needed some support. A few mice jumped on the bed and rubbed their furry heads against her. Some chickadees landed on her shoulder, which tickled a bit. The squirrels wrapped their fuzzy tails around Fluttershy’s neck, like a boa. Even some snakes tried to hug her, wrapping around her legs and waist, although they knew that their cold blood would spread little warmth.

Fluttershy couldn’t help but smile. All the animals were so nice, and now the thought of that hostile dream drifted away on their kindness. “Thank you so much. I love all of you too.”

Then, the animals gave her some space, as Fluttershy did another attempt to stand up, more carefully now. She still felt sore, but she managed it, and gazed around Rhosgobel. Radagast’s cloak, staff, and hat were gone, and the cottage looked empty without his presence, despite the animals. When her gaze reached the table, Alexander sprang into view.

“Where is Radagast, little Alexander?”

“He’s gone.”

For a second, Fluttershy recoiled as the high-pitched voice of the robin reached her ears. Apart from the wolf, she hadn’t heard any animal speak before, and had forgotten that they could. She recomposed herself.

“What’s the matter?” Alexander said.

“Oh… eh… nothing.” Fluttershy said, feeling more than a bit silly. All this time she had spent with Alexander, and she hadn’t even asked him to speak. “I’m just surprise to hear you speak my language.”

“You gotta get used to that, Fluttershy,” Alexander said. “We can all speak that way, you know?”

And to proof the robin’s words, all the mice, birds, squirrels, ferrets, badgers, snakes, and other animals shouted some form of ‘yes,’ or, ‘of course,’ or, ‘naturally.’

When the cacophony of animal voices calmed down, Fluttershy turned to Alexander again, who puffed out his chest as he took up the task of representing all the animals in Rhosgobel.

“I’m sorry I forgot that for a second,” Fluttershy said. “I’ve had a very strange night.” She looked at her wounds again. “I think…”

“That’s alright, Fluttershy,” Alexander said. “We often feel confused in Radagast’s company as well. He is a confusing person sometimes.” The little robin let out a few rapid tweets, as a means of laughter.

“Alexander!” one of the owls said from the top of a bookcase. It flapped its wings and landed with a thud on the table next to the robin. “This is no time for jokes, for moon’s sake. Didn’t you hear the urgency in Radagast’s voice when he spoke? I thought you were supposed to be a master of intonation, being a songbird.”

Alexander let out a chirp in the direction of the owl. “Yes, Theodulfus, I have, in fact, heard the urgency in his voice. I was just getting at that message alright?”

“Very well,” Theodulfus said, folding up his wings as a person would fold its arms. ”Let us hear it, then.”

“Fluttershy,” Alexander said, his tone no longer a sing-song collection of sounds, but more monotonous and serious. “Radagast said we should take you to the Old Forest Road, where we must look for the elves. Radagast has gone on a dangerous mission, he said. And he might not return, he said. We must go now and find the Road and the elves while there’s still time.“

Fluttershy could never have guessed that such a cheerful songbird would be able to speak with such a grave voice. Suddenly, she felt herself stuttering. “W-w-what do you mean ‘while there’s still time?’”

Now Alexander looked uncomfortable as well. “Well… eh… I… I can’t remember.

Next to him, Theodulfus shook his head. “You really haven’t been listening, have you? Radagast said that he would be going on a dangerous mission. If he wouldn’t return soon we would have to fly.” His big, orange eyes looked down on the little robin. “And of course, don’t forget the warning he gave us: there will be evil upon the Greenwood, in the form of an eye, and—”

Fluttershy let out a loud gasp, and felt a shudder go through her whole body and mind. The eye she had dreamed of, and Radagast had seen it too? Had it been more than a dream?

“I saw it,” Fluttershy said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I saw the eye in my dreams.”

Suddenly, a black shape came into view, dashing from the stairs to the attic and into the living room. It accompanied its flight with a high squeaking sound, jumping in and out of the range which other animals could hear. It flapped around in a ball of black leather, and all the other animals followed its movements.

Fluttershy jumped at the sudden flash of darkness, but when she realized what it was, she calmed down. The bat flew up, until it curled its toes around a wooden beam, folded its wings, and looked at Fluttershy upside-down. “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, and I am also terribly sorry to have eavesdropped on you. But, you see, when you have ears like mine, it is difficult not hear everything when you don’t want to. But I am trailing off here. What I wanted to say to you, Miss Fluttershy, is that your dream wasn’t a dream.”

Fluttershy stared back at the bat, trying to find its tiny eyes. “What do you mean, Mister… eh…”

“Malfegor is the name,” the bat said. ”And it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fluttershy. I must say, I feel quite happy to know that I am not the only flying mammal in Middle Earth anymore. I have the feeling that we are quite connected, even though our species are vastly different, don’t you think?”

“Eh…” Fluttershy had no idea what to say, as she thought that Malfegor couldn’t be more right, although not exactly in the way he thought he was.

“Oops. Excuse me there, Miss Fluttershy,” Malfegor said, upon seeing the doubt in Fluttershy’s big blue eyes. “ I seem to be trailing off, again. I shall tell you what I have seen on the night that Radagast and you practiced magic underneath the silver moon, for I was hunting insects that evening, and happened to see what he was up to.”

The bat began to recount the tale, leaving no detail out. His voice was heavy and official, and he spoke with as many colorful metaphors as he could summon, as if he thought that those would make the story a bit lighter on Fluttershy’s heart.

And all the while Fluttershy listened, and the more Malfegor talked, the heavier her heart felt. For a moment, she considered herself lucky to have forgotten a lot about it, and wished that she could instead just call it a dream and continue her day together with Radagast.

“He tried to help you, that he did.” Malfegor said, ”but the eye interrupted his magic. Even though my eyes are but small and my sight is very ill, I could see the great tree lit up like a scarlet sunset, and hear its bark screaming with cracking voices. The fire was definitely not natural, as I have fled from a forest fire once, so I know how a normal forest fire looks. I am certainly not an expert on magic, but I can tell you here and now that evil forces were at work that night. And I believe what Radagast says is true, that the evil is encroaching on the whole forest.” Malfegor rasped his throat, which made a squeaky noise. “I wish my tale would have been brighter, but I told you instead the truth, and I am very sorry if I have upset you with it.”

“Don’t be,” Fluttershy said. “I would have heard it from Radagast anyway. But…” And then her voice faltered. “I still don’t know where he is. Oh!” Fluttershy suddenly winced and squeezed her eyes shut. “What could possibly be more dangerous than that terrible experience you’ve just described? It must have been something awful, when he thought he might… he might not…” Tears started pearling down the corners of her eyes; she couldn’t say the word.

Theodulfus spread his big wing and wrapped it around Fluttershy’s shoulder, pulling her head towards him until it was buried in his feathery belly. “It’s alright, Fluttershy. Perhaps he will return, just later.”

Alexander rubbed his head against Fluttershy’s, but still heard her crying. He turned to the other animals. “Let’s all leave her alone for a while, folks. Also, I gotta talk to you all in private.”

The animals agreed. Only Theodulfus and Malfegor stayed behind. Theodulfus because he would be more than capable of comforting Fluttershy with his wise words, and Malfegor because he had fallen asleep.

There was a mist outside, so the animals stayed together in a close circle to be able to read each other’s expressions. When they were all gathered, Alexander hopped in the middle of the circle, looked at each critter in turn, and took the word once more.

“Alright, let’s get serious now,” he said. “Don’t think I didn’t see your face there, Joel. You know where Radagast went to on his ‘mission.’” In two hops, Alexander was almost pecking the badger with his beak. “Fluttershy is not here now, so come on! Spit it out!”

Joel the badger took a step back at the fiery robin’s words. “Whoa, there, calm down Alex. I have been nothing but an honest animal, you know? I do, in fact, not know where Radagast has departed to. I only realized someone who perhaps might now.”

Alexander jumped up. “Really? Tell us!”

“Why, the rabbits, of course,” Joel said. “They were the ones who pulled Radagast’s sled, after all.”

“Of course!” Alexander made a hop with a flap of his wings. When he landed he twirled around and stood still. “Wait, where are the rabbits anyway? I haven’t seen them for a while, and I don’t recall them being together with us just a minute ago.”

One of the squirrels raised its tiny front paw, but when he saw that none of the animals took notice of him, he hopped closer to the middle of the circle. “Eh… I’m sorry to interrupt, Alexander, but… well… If you please, I often visit the rabbits and, eh… I might know why they haven’t been among us for a time…”

There was a small silence in which the squirrel fumbled with his tail.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Tell us,” Alexander said, trying to sound nice despite the haste he implied.

But the squirrel kept fiddling with his tail, and avoided the robin’s gaze. “H-h-how shall I tell you. Oh, it’s such a delicate matter, actually. Eh… well… The rabbits, they… They are not feeling very well—one of them, I mean. But… but I do believe that you should ask them yourselves. Oh, it’s such a delicate matter.”

Alexander suppressed a sigh, which resounded like an airy whistle. “Alright. Let’s go to the rabbit holes, everyone.”

And before anyone could protest or question the robin, he flew off towards the hill.

It was a small hill, made by Radagast himself, where the rabbits lived. Rabbits always preferred living underground, so Radagast had taken the time to give his most faithful friends everything they needed, including their very own home. Many holes were scattered in the hill, but in the end, all of the passages were connected to each other. Soon, Alexander and the squirrel stood in the central chamber, where they found one rabbit.

“Hallo Giselda,” said the squirrel, offering a hesitant handshake.

Giselda returned the handshake, but said nothing.

The squirrel looked at the ground, but then back at the rabbit. “How… how is Anna doing?”

“Not well,” the rabbit answered.

Alexander looked from one animal to the other. “What? Is she sick?”

“I’m afraid she is,” Giselda said. She folded her front paws together. “It’s so terrible. Since the ride to that terrible fortress, she hasn’t been the same. She doesn’t eat, she barely sleeps, and she is so afraid to go out.” Her whiskers twitched. “Well, not just afraid for herself, but afraid for Radagast as well. Oh! He should never have gone to that place. We should have turned around and go back to Rhosgobel while we had the chance. First that terrible forest fire, and now this! I certainly hope that he knows what he is doing, and I think poor Anna will not be the same until Radagast returns.”

Upon hearing this, Alexander bent his knees and lowered his head for a second. “I’m sorry to hear that, Giselda. You see, Fluttershy has just woken up from the... eh… forest fire, and we are all still figuring out what has happened these past few days. But we need your help. Can you tell us where Radagast has gone to? Do you know the place?”

“I do,” Gisela said. She rubbed her nose a dozen times with her front paws before she continued. And when she looked at the squirrel and the robin again, her eyes were big with fear. Her mouth formed words, but made no sound. She tried it a second time, and then the words, even though reluctant, filled the room. “Dol Guldur.”

The squirrel gave a yelp, and bolted off, making the dirt fly everywhere in his flight. Before Alexander or Gisela could blink, he was gone.

But Alexander was rooted in place. He opened his beak, and was unable to shut it for a good five seconds. Then he said, “Dol Guldur?!”

“Oh, please don’t speak that name aloud in here!” Giselda said, waving her paws in the air. “That is the last thing our poor Anna needs.”

Once more, Alexander made a bow. “I’m sorry, Giselda. Tell Anna to get well soon for me. I’m afraid I have something important to do.”

“Of course,” Giselda said.

Back outside, the animals still stood in the same circle around the hole, discussing possible places where Radagast might have gone. They had seen the squirrel, but he was long gone before anybody could speak to him. “And?” asked Joel the badger, when Alexander’s head popped up from the rabbit hole.

“Dol Guldur.”

A gasp went through the group, each expressed a different way. For the snakes it was a hiss, for the badgers a bark, and the birds chirped and the owls gave a high hoot and the mouse squeaked. Every animal knew that Dol Guldur was an unpleasant place, and that strange things tend to happen there. Often, some brave bats or crows would fly over it, but most other animals turned a wide circle when they wanted to go around the old hill fortress. They knew that even plants wouldn’t grow there, and that the mountains moaned under the weight of the crumbled castle. It was altogether an evil place.

After the shock of the mention had subsided, they all started hissing, talking, tweeting, squeaking and squawking amongst one another, telling the strange tales they had heard or the experiences of someone they claimed to know or have known. The circle was breaking apart, and the hubbub became so loud that Gisela asked them to move, which they did. They were standing right in the middle of the clearing, far away from the rabbit holes and out of hearing distance from Rhosgobel, and resumed their discussion and speculation.

Suddenly, a loud squawk resounded. Every animal looked at the sky, recognizing to what animal the cry belonged, but couldn’t see anyone. Then, with a thud, a big, black crow touched down upon the grass, startling the other animals for a second and making the mice fall down with the flap of its wings.

Alexander had jumped away just in time, and hopped towards the massive bird. “Hey there! Who are you and what is your business here! I think it’s pretty rude to scare us all like that. At least you could have walked here properly.”

“I don’t have time for walking,” the crow said, ignoring Alexander’s questions. “I bear an emergency message from the brown wizard, to be delivered to a horse named ‘Fluttershy.’ Is she here?”

“Indeed she is,” said Joel the badger.

The crow gave out a squawk. “Good. Take me to her as quickly as you can, for my news is urgent.”

Joel started to lead the way, with the crow behind, but Alexander flew up and landed between them. “Wait a second, there mister. We don’t know you, and your manners are far from good. Why not tell the message to us, so we can carry it to Fluttershy with our own beaks and mouths, instead of yours.”

The crow made a low, rattling noise. “Oh, dash it all!” He twirled around, knocking Alexander over with its tail feathers, and then flew up, almost decapitating Joel with the flap of his wings. The other birds, the ones swifter of mind and swifter of wing, tried to intervene, but these were but little chickadees, which the crow easily swept aside. Before they could stop him, he flew straight through the window, and left a rain of shattered glass and some black feathers behind.

“Is there a flying horse by the name of Fluttershy here?” The crow said, but he needn’t to, for he saw Fluttershy lying on the bed with an owl on her pillow, looking in shock at the crow’s loud entrée. The crow jumped and flew, landing on the table.

“Well hello there, sir,” Theodulfus the owl said. “May I ask you politely why you flew through the—“

“No time,” rasped the crow. “I bring ill news of your friend the brown wizard.”

Fluttershy bent forward to hear the crow better, although she felt afraid by his tone and his words. “What happened to him? Is Radagast ok?”

The crow shook its head. “No. He’s not. Radagast has been captured by the servants of Sauron and imprisoned in the dungeons of Dol Guldur. He asks for your help.”

Fluttershy felt her heart skip a beat. She felt all of her worries turning to reality, which shone like a black sun in her mind. First her hooves began to tremble, then her whole body. She retracted from the black crow, and folded her hooves around her head. This isn’t happening, she thought. “Radagast… please come back…”

“He’s not coming back,” the crow said. “We have to rescue him.”

The owl frowned with his big, bristly eyebrows. “I see,” he said calmly. “And where, may I ask, did you get that information?”

The crow jerked his head to the owl. “From the brown wizard himself, of course. He gave out a magical call, which I answered, and gave the message for me to bear. He trusted me, and I have not betrayed his trust, for here I am, delivering the call.”

“I see…” Theodulfus said again, but his gaze began to travel, and he turned his head around a couple of times. “Then it seems we have some very difficult choices to make…” His eyes settled on Fluttershy at last, and he stroked her mane with one of his wings.

“Yes,” squawked the crow. “We have to act quickly, for I don’t believe there is much time. The wizard is in very bad shape and very weak. I don’t think he will make it until the next day.”

Suddenly, all of the other animals came streaming into Rhosgobel in a wild stampede. Snakes slithered through cracks in the door, mice appeared from their holes, squirrels skittered inside, and the birds flew through the open window, chittering and tweeting in an off-key chorus. Alexander jumped up, and landed squarely on the back of the crow. But the crow bent its legs and bowed over, throwing the robin off balance and slamming him to the wood of the table.

“Stop! What in moon’s name are you doing?” cried Theodulfus, who flew towards the table and planted his big talons in the wood. “Stop that, you two! There’s no need for violence when our common friend is in need of us.”

Alexander backed off, but still gave the crow a nasty stare. When he saw that it made no attempt to attack him, he puffed out his chest and recomposed himself. “In need of us?” he asked Theodulfus—not the crow—, asking the question that lingered on every animal’s lips or beaks.

“Radagast is in danger, according to our unexpected guest here,” Theodulfus said, motioning with one talon to the crow, who stood high on his feet. “We have to see what we are going to do, for Radagast himself had said before that we should retreat to the elves. Trying to save Radagast, in my opinion, is a dangerous task.”

The crow flapped his wings twice. “Dangerous, maybe, but I have a plan. You see, I know exactly where the wizard is held, so when Fluttershy and I go together, we will be able to free him.”

“What?! That’s a terrible idea,” said Alexander. “Look at her!”

Indeed, Fluttershy was still curled up in a ball, covering herself with her wings. She wasn’t quite recovered from the shock yet, and in the silence, the animals could hear her sobbing as quietly as she could.

“She’s in no shape to go on such a dangerous mission, crow,” Alexander continued. “We have to figure out something else.”

“I agree with Mister Alexander here,” said Theodulfus. “Perhaps we can do both; we can go to the elves and ask them for help. I am certain that their king will be able to launch an attack on the fortress of Dol—“

“But the wizard asked for Fluttershy specifically!” the crow said.

“But Radagast said that she has to leave too, when things would go bad for him,” Alexander countered.

“Oh, dash it all,” the crow said under his breath. He made a jump. “Do you have any animal strong enough to buck open the wooden doors? Do you have any animal strong enough to bite the wizard’s bindings? I bet you don’t.”

Alexander also jumped. “Then why didn’t you peck Radagast’s bindings? If you have really spoken to him, I presume you have already gone past the doors.”

“No,” the crow hissed, sounding quite like a snake for a moment. “I have spoken with him through the iron bars of a high window. What? Did you think I burst open those doors all by myself?”

“Of course not,” Alexander said, who realized that this was going to be a long argument; one he would win. “Say, why don’t we let our nameless crow here fly to the elven king and let him rouse an army?”

“Because“ —The crow let a threatening pause slip in —“ I don’t think Radagast will live that long, as I said. Haven’t you been listening?”

“I wasn’t in the cottage yet when you spoke those words, I reckon,” Alexander countered.

To that the crow became silent, as he knew that the robin was right. “Touché,” he said, but soft enough so that nobody would hear him.

Theodulfus flew up, and landed on the knob that marked the head of the bed. “Fluttershy,” he whispered in her ear. “We need you now. Radagast needs you know. I know that making a decision is hard for you at the moment, but you have to stay strong. Will you at least listen to what we have to propose?”

Deeply buried beneath her wings and her pillow, Fluttershy nodded. Spurred on by the owl’s gentle words, she summoned enough strength to sit upright, and wiped her eyes off her wing. “Yes,” she said, although her voice was still cracked, “I will listen.”

All the animals gathered together, eager to hear what the future held in store for them: a difficult decision.

Theodulfus took his central position on the tabletop again, and took a moment to look at all the animals, and finally at Fluttershy. “Fluttershy,” he said in his deep voice, “we have to choose. According to this crow, Radagast’s messenger, we must go—“

“No, only Fluttershy and I must go,” the crow corrected.

Alexander, on the other side of the table, tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because this is a low-profile rescue mission, robin,” the crow said. “The easiest way to approach Radagast’s holding cell is on the wing, and we can’t have a whole cloud of chickadees and robins and owls and pigeons and who knows what more flying in the air. The enemy would certainly spot us that way, and besides, what good would it do? It is strength and stealth that we need on this mission.”

The arguments made sense, and Alexander had to give in.

“Very well,” Theodulfus said, resuming his summary. “So either the crow and Fluttershy are venturing towards Dol Guldur and save Radagast, or we go to the Old Forest Road and ask help from the elves, as Radagast instructed.”

“But we can’t do that!” The crow said, hopping from one leg to the other. “We don’t have the time!”

Theodulfus closed his eyes for a moment. “It is a hard choice, I know. I am certain that all of you would give your lives for our master—for our friend. But as the crow said, if we were to rescue Radagast, it would be useless to go all together; I believe so too. When we retreat to the elves, we leave Radagast behind, but then again, we will have a chance to inform the elves of the Greenwood’s dying state.” Theodulfus sighed. “Radagast lived for us; he lived for the forest. He would never want to see it corrupt and die as he said it would. Although it weighs heavy on my heart, I must say that saving the Greenwood is probably what Radagast would have wanted.”

To that, the crow let out a terrible screech. “But you cannot do that! The wizard is your friend, right? There is nothing more cowardly than to leave your comrades alone to save your own hides. Cowards!”

Theodulfus turned his eyes towards the crow. “I’m sorry Mister Crow, but I don’t like your tone there. Do not speak ill of all of us, for not only the life of Radagast, but also the life of the forest is at stake.”

Alexander looked about ready to peck the crow’s eyes out; his chest seemed redder than ever.

Theodulfus closed his eyes and sighed once more. Then a long, thoughtful silence followed. After a couple of minutes, other animals began to stir and wonder whether the nocturnal bird had fallen asleep. Alexander hopped towards him, but then the owl opened his eyes again. “I cannot decide,” he said, his voice pained with thought, “for I do not think it is my decision to make.” He looked at Fluttershy, and didn’t even need to say anything.

Of course Fluttershy was scared. Her imagination had no trouble summoning up a place which would contain even more evil than Radagast would be able to handle. Her imagination had no trouble summoning up an enemy more terrible and powerful than her wildest nightmares. The pictures and thoughts came back to her, especially the eye, which she could now clearly see and feel again. Her wounds seemed to sting at the memory, and a shiver traveled through her mind and body. She recoiled.

“Be strong, little horse,” the crow said. “We can do this together and free your wizard.”

Fluttershy realized that she actually had no choice. She would do anything for Radagast, her new friend. He had taken her under his wing, cared for her, and even tried to send her back to her own world. He tried to help me, Fluttershy thought, and now I must try to help him.

Fluttershy never really had been a hero, and the possibility of failure crossed her mind too. The possibility of death crossed her mind too. She thought back about Nightmare Moon. At the battle with Nightmare Moon, Twilight Sparkle had fought, and Fluttershy had been there too, representing the element of kindness. Back then, she knew that Twilight Sparkle might die, and had been terribly afraid of that. And she knew that she herself might have had to fight Nightmare Moon and die.

That same realization now encroached on her heart and mind. Fluttershy lowered her head and flattened her ears. A single tear dripped onto the mattress. Tears of the thought that she might not be able to live when Radagast would die.

The words came hesitant, but they came. And with those words, her fate was sealed.

“I will go.”

The crow jumped up, flapped its wings, and screeched. “A good choice, horse. Together we will fly to Dol Guldur!”

“I will go,” Fluttershy continued, “but all of you guys have to leave. If I fail and might not come back, then the elves must still be informed of the situation of the Greenwood. And besides…” Her voice quavered. “I don’t want you to be here when the dark magic comes for you next.”

The other animals started to object. Some wanted to wait for Fluttershy and Radagast’s return. Some wanted to never leave Rhosgobel, whatever the threat might be, for it was their home. Some were scared of the elves. And some were scared to become homeless and alone in the wild, being quite domesticated in Radagast’s presence, where predators and prey were equal. Some were still injured and couldn’t possibly make the journey to the Old Forest Road. Alexander thought about Anna the rabbit.

Suddenly, Theodulfus let out a few raspy screeches, and everyone fell silent immediately. When all was silent, Theodulfus cleared his throat. “Excuse me there, everyone. I just want to say that Fluttershy has made a wise decision, as far as I can see. This way we will have both a chance at getting Radagast back, and a chance at saving the Greenwood.” He turned his head to Fluttershy. “And Fluttershy?”

“Yes?”

“I have all the faith in my heart that you will succeed. Even though you might not see it for yourself, you have more resourcefulness and courage than meets the eye.”

Fluttershy’s purple mane fell across one eye as she blushed. “Thank you.”

“And furthermore,” Theodulfus said. “We will all still ask for the elves’ help to storm the fortress. So even if you don’t succeed immediately, try to give us time to rouse an army, and then we will come for you.”

Fluttershy brushed her mane back behind her ear. “Thank you so much for all your support and your kind words.” She looked at all the animals, knew that this would be their farewell, but still managed to give them all a warm smile. “You are all wonderful, and I know that you will all have a pleasant time with the elves. Good luck with your journey.”

“And good luck with yours,” Theodulfus said, soon accompanied by Alexander who said, “You can do it, Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy nodded, but doubts started to collect in her head and uttered a thought of their own. I hope so…

* *

The evening air was chilly and stung Fluttershy’s face. She never liked flying so high, but she knew that haste was necessary, and walking or flying through the forest would be too slow and clumsy. Fluttershy silently wondered whether the crow would feel the same. He hadn’t talked much, and the only words he had spoken to her were reluctant and quick, as if he didn’t like talking to her. Now he flew far ahead, leading the way.

The air was a very cloudy soup, and the moonlight shone through the cloudy mess in rays of cold light. Stars couldn’t be seen that night, and the forest didn’t look much more cheerful.

Instead of a beautiful red and golden multi-colored festival of leaves, a mist covered the trees. Sometimes the top of a particularly high tree would peep out of the grey mass, looking rather like the top of a red mushroom, but the rest of the forest was swallowed in the blanket of cloud.

Fluttershy couldn’t believe that a forest could look that dreary and dark. She wobbled as her wings shivered, and she wondered whether it was because of the cold or because of the joyless sight of the Greenwood, which was far from green now. A wondering thought came to her, as she was thinking about the Everfree Forest, and if it would perhaps look as spooky and mysterious as the Greenwood when it would be preparing itself for winter on a misty day. When another shiver made her close her eyes, Fluttershy decided that she didn’t want to know.

With a few flaps of her wings, Fluttershy flew next to the bird. She tried to find its eyes, which were as black as its feathers, and didn’t shine in the grey moonlight. “Mister Crow?”

The crow let out a screech, which Fluttershy took as a ‘yes.’

“Are we… are we almost there?”

“Yes,” the crow said, without looking at her. “Soon the mist will retreat, and the fortress shall be revealed.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Fluttershy wished that the crow would try to comfort her, to give her some courage for the task ahead, but the bird appeared to be as cold as the wind which it rode.

No, Fluttershy had to do this all by herself. She had to muster the courage in her heart to save Radagast. For a few seconds, Fluttershy closed her eyes and recalled all the happy moments she had shared with Radagast. Working together while repairing Rhosgobel, playing with his animal friends, talking about each other’s worlds, sharing delicious meals together, drinking tea and laughing. Despite the cold, she felt her heart warm. The positive memories were what she needed to find courage and prepare her spirit. And besides that, Fluttershy realized that she just had to do what she did a lot: hiding and sneaking. Hiding from danger, watching out for strange animals in the Everfree forest, fleeing awkward situations, making herself invisible in crowds; all things Fluttershy had done a million times. And for the first time, she thanked her natural timidity and shyness.

Suddenly, Fluttershy spotted a hole in the carpet. It looked like a hole in the world, where the mist retreated as if it didn’t dare to cover that area. A few minutes later, they were flying over a new part of the forest. Fluttershy almost tumbled down the skies at the sight below her.

It looked as if the forest was clad into an eternal shadow. Trees were black, earth was black, bushes were black. But they weren’t blackened by a forest fire, for then they would be snapped and crumbled, and there would be stumps littering the ash-covered soil. Instead, the trees were all still intact, waving their blackened leaves in an unseen breeze.

Fluttershy could see and feel that the forest was corrupted. It was as if she’d just plunged from a hot bath into a cold one, and the air felt empty of scents and sensations. With a few hesitant flaps she steadied herself, and looked at the crow. The beast still flew as straight as before, and didn’t look troubled by the sudden corruption that lingered in the air—or if he did, he didn’t show it; Fluttershy knew that crows were proud birds.

The black ink stain went on as far as Fluttershy could see, traveling like an enormous, bottomless abyss to the healthy part of the forest, where the trees were golden underneath their grey blanket. Or, that was what Fluttershy thought. She silently wondered how far the black forest had already grown, as she couldn’t see any trees through the mist below. In a stream of thought and hope, Fluttershy realized that this was the future of the Greenwood, if no one would do anything. That realization swept away her last doubts about the decision that she had made, and she frowned in grim determination. The elves must know about this.

Then, like a black needle against a grey night, Fluttershy saw the fortress, and all her determination tumbled down the sky and upon the rotten earth below.

“Behold, Dol Guldur,” the crow said, and his voice echoed in the hollow air.

A few moments later, Fluttershy saw the needle grow into a spearhead, then into rooftops and spires and watchtowers which greeted her with grim shadows. The same feeling of dread which had awakened in Radagast now feasted upon a new victim. A victim meeker and softer, with a kindness which it could devour—much like the changelings.

“W-w-where do we go now?” Fluttershy said, having trouble to speak.

The crow let out a screech. “I will show you. From now on, no talking!”

Fluttershy wanted to say yes, but instead she nodded, which felt easier anyway above the corrupted woods.

The fortress of Dol Guldur reminded Fluttershy of the Castle of the Two Sisters, which had been abandoned at the edge of the Everfree Forest in Equestria. It too, had spires and crumbling walls. The only difference—a difference that Fluttershy had noticed the first time she set hoof in the halls of the castle—was that nature had reclaimed the Castle of the Two Sisters, while Dol Guldur was just stone, iron, and shadows. Where vines, ivy, shrubs, weeds, and even small trees had taken over the Castle of the Two Sisters, providing a funny splash of color on the white-grey walls, in Dol Guldur grew nothing. The place looked devoid of life, which both comforted and unsettled Fluttershy at the same time. It was comforting to know that their presence had apparently gone unnoticed, but unsettling because it only added to the strange atmosphere hanging in the air.

Fluttershy saw that the crow veered down, and she did the same. The closer she got to the fortress, the more her senses primed. Her aerial position not only gave her an image of the place, but she also looked down and scanned for movement. There was nothing.

The crow flew through a big hole in a half-crumbled roof, and Fluttershy followed. Immediately, they became covered in shadows.

Fluttershy expected some shock or blast when she touched down on the floor. Instead, it was just stone. Ordinary, cold stone.

Nudging with its head, the crow walked forwards. Fluttershy held her breath, and followed.

Her eyes started to adjust to the darkness slightly, and with a little help from more cracks in the roof and the walls and the moonlight slithering through them, she began to see where she had plunged herself in. It was a hallway, with rotten tapestries hanging on crooked railings. A few windows, without glass and bound in iron bars, offered a view of a cliff, and in the distance the corrupted forest. There were even some paintings, although the faces on them were distorted, and the landscapes burned and blackened.

In the distance, the crow came to a big, wooden door, armed with iron spikes and countless splinters. There the crow stopped.

Fluttershy looked at him, and the crow scratched the door with one of his talons. It wasn’t locked, and although it was big and heavy, Fluttershy managed to push it open without making a sound. They walked inside.

Despite the crow’s warning, Fluttershy couldn’t suppress a small, “Wow.”

She was standing in a hall, a hall of which she couldn’t see the roof. Moonlight streamed through stained-glass windows, some broken; others miraculously clean and intact. A big red carpet, half-rotten away, muffled Fluttershy’s steps, as she walked further. She could see stone benches and an altar. More details came into view as she followed the crow, appearing out of the shadows which covered the other corners and parts of the hall. Then, she stopped, while a gasp escaped her mouth.

Before her stood a figure, clad in robes, standing completely erect with a sword clutched in its hands, half covered by the sleeves of the robe, so that the sword looked as if it had sprouted from the cloth. It had hung its head, and looked down on Fluttershy.

A second passed.

Then another one.

Fluttershy’s heart rattled like a hummingbird’s. She didn’t dare to move.

But the figure stood still, doing nothing but casting shadows on the ground.

It’s… it’s just a statue.

Fluttershy sighed and began to move away. She wanted to go, for the place gave her the creeps, but she knew she couldn’t. Fluttershy just hoped that Radagast’s prison wouldn’t be far. She turned her head in every direction, searching for her crow. What she saw instead, were more figures, much like the first.

Would Radagast be here? her frightened mind thought. Would the crow’s mission be over? Is he scared of the statues?

Then, all her questions were answered in a single voice, traveling through the stale, dusty air like a spear.

“You have come at last, flying horse.”

It wasn’t Radagast’s voice. This voice promised cruelty and torture with its tones. Fluttershy jerked her head around; the voice seemed to come from all directions, from all shadows. She felt fear take hold of her body. Even if she wanted to flee, she felt she couldn’t. The fear, carried on that awful voice, rooted her into place.

Suddenly, there was a squawk and a flap of wings. The crow came sailing through the air, and landed on the shoulder of the Witch-King, who stepped into the light of the moon, which looked as if it flickered for a second.

Even though her whole being felt numb and paralyzed, Fluttershy understood what had happened, and she couldn’t believe it.

Now the crow’s eyes glittered. The Witch-King held out a fist, which opened in a steel-rimmed claw, and the crow hopped over his arm into the claw, his nails scratching the metal. It looked as if the bird gave Fluttershy one last sneer, before the Witch-King closed his fist, and the crow disappeared into a cloud of shadows and feathers.

A shock went through Fluttershy’s heart. She couldn’t help it, but wondered if the crow was dead. It was her kind nature, which was of no use here.

“How does betrayal feel?” the Witch-King said. He spoke slowly, letting every word have its terrible effect on Fluttershy’s ears.

No answer came from Fluttershy; she looked at the falling feathers, which dissolved into dust once they touched the floor.

The Witch-King moved his head; his cloak stirred. “He has outlived his usefulness. Just like Radagast the Brown.”

Even the name of the wizard sounded cruel on the Witch-King’s unseen tongue. Fluttershy’s voice was just a whisper. “Radagast…”

With a wave of his cloak, the Witch-King moved his arm and hissed. Then, one of the statues, the one standing next to him, sheathed its sword and disappeared into the darkness.

Nameless seconds passed, before he rematerialized with Radagast, kneeling on the ground before him. His head hung low, his beard almost touching the stone floor, and Fluttershy couldn’t find his eyes. He didn’t look bloodied or bruised, but he was shaking and quivering. He just lay on the ground, moaning in the darkness.

Fluttershy wanted to take Radagast, help him get better, flee this horrible place. But she couldn’t move a muscle.

“His spirit is broken,” the Witch-King said. “He is no longer a threat to our master.”

The Witch-King raised his hand, and touched Radagast’s grey locks. The wizard began quivering over his whole body, and then raised up as if he were attached to a rope around his neck. He let out a gurgle. Then his eyes met Fluttershy’s, and she recoiled. Where before the wizard’s eyes had been blue and sparkling with the love of life, now they were grey and dull, looking into the shadows. But then he noticed Fluttershy, and his eyebrows shot up. “Fluttershy!”

“Radagast!”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Radagast said, but then a heavy cough interrupted his speech. His head slumped down for a second, but he forced his gaze back into Fluttershy’s eyes. He couldn’t say anything.

The Witch-King closed his fist and drew his sword. The clinking sound echoed through the hall.

“I have spared his life, for it isn’t his life our master wants to see ended. We have broken his spirit, so he may leave. If—“ he pointed his sword straight ahead at Fluttershy—“we have you.”

Radagast let out another violent cough. “Do not… why…”

“It is a decision the horse must make,” the Witch-King said, waving his sword so that Radagast’s chin rested on the blade. “My master has an interest in the horse’s flying prowess. He has laid his eye upon the creature ever since it entered this realm. Our spies have seen everything. We will breed mighty steeds from her essence; steeds that will carry us to victory during my master’s conquest.”

Fluttershy looked at Radagast, but the wizard was back on his knees, and had turned his gaze upward. “No…”

The Witch-King hissed, the blade disappeared, and Radagast’s head slumped down. “A life for a life, or death upon the wizard.”

A silence followed, long and dreadful. Behind Fluttershy, the other ‘statues,’ stirred, and marched upon her until they surrounded her on either side like copies of each other. The Ringwraiths stood still, and their undead breaths stroked her hide and gave her goosebumps.

Fluttershy had no idea what to do. She couldn’t flee, couldn’t fight. The Witch-King’s blade glimmered like a cold star in the watery moonlight, and it looked sharper than a razor. The sword looked as if it could cut the shadows, and it began to travel towards Radagast’s head once more.

Then the wizard jerked up his head, and with the last bit of strength he could find in his mind, he looked Fluttershy straight in the eyes. “Don’t… don’t do it, Fluttershy. I cannot live when you surrender yourself to the shadow. Don’t—“ but then a wheeze in his throat stopped his words.

But Fluttershy knew she had to do it. She knew that Radagast would die otherwise. Once, she had thought that one of her friends died, the pet phoenix of Princess Celestia, which she had cared for and had tried to help. The bird had looked miserable, and had dissolved into flames right in front of Fluttershy’s eyes. That day, Fluttershy had encountered a new feeling; the most terrible feeling she had ever experienced. The feeling of losing someone you cared for, someone you loved. It was a feeling of a black torrent, snatching away your loved one and giving back nothing. Like a black arrow through your heart, it left a gap irreparable by the most skilled healers, both of the body and of the mind. Fluttershy knew that she would never smile again when she would see Radagast getting impaled by that awful sword.

She nodded before she spoke, as if the words were unnecessary; a waste of her breath. Still, she spoke.

“I will go with you. Let Radagast go.”

A ripple went through the great hall. Around her, the Ringwraiths hissed and screeched their approval. They came even closer now, examining their newest tool. Radagast seemed to have fainted. He felt the desperation and guilt swallow him whole, and he cried. The Witch-King raised his hand towards Fluttershy, his claw outstretched as if he were luring an animal. “Come.”

Whether Fluttershy wanted it or not, she moved forwards. Then a coldness like a soulless river spread from her head to her hooves, as the Witch King stroked her head.

“Welcome to the shadows.”

Chapter fifteen: stories in the dark

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When Spike opened his eyes, he thought they were closed. Darkness was everywhere, but that didn’t make sense.

For a moment, Spike thought he was dead; that the black void meant the end of his life. But he couldn’t remember fire, or a searing pain of iron fangs ripping his scales apart. He couldn’t remember his head looking down into a fiery abyss which was the monster’s throat, ready to swallow him whole.

That was because he wasn’t dead.

“Rainbow Dash? Rainbow Dash, where are you?”

Spike looked around, but couldn’t see a claw before his eyes. It felt strange to look in the darkness, for the last thing he remembered seeing was the belly of the beasts, bright like hellfire.

Then, a light erupted right next to him.

With a cry Spike jumped aside, tripped over Rainbow Dash, and tumbled to the ground.

But the flame which danced before him was a far cry from the wild, hellish flames the beasts had worn. This flame was cold and regular, burning steadily and without flickering in an outstretched claw.

The flame illuminated a face, as blue as the flame the wielder carried. The eyes were brilliant and sly, marking a face sleek and beautiful. Thin, sharp spines crowned the dragon’s head, and two graceful horns curved downwards and outwards, made for fashion, rather than fights.

“Ember!”

It was indeed Ember, former Dragon-Lady, standing in front of them. She breathed in, and created another steady blue flame, which she held between her thumb and her claw. Then, she put each of them on the tip of her horns, where they kept shining without flickering.

Spike scrambled up as quickly as his bruised legs allowed. “Ember! I thought you were dead! I thought Garble had murdered you.“ He hurried past Rainbow Dash and embraced Ember without shame, although he barely reached her shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down.” Ember pushed Spike away from her, but when she saw his startled face, she knew that wasn’t right towards him. With a softer voice she said, “I mean… Glad to see you too, Spike.”

A million questions bounced through Spike’s head. “What just happened back there? I thought those monsters ate us? How did you get here?” Suddenly, he stopped talking and let out a gasp. “Are we in the beast’s stomach?”

“No we’re not. Don’t be ridiculous,” Ember said. Her red eyes flashed to the ground, to Rainbow Dash, then they flashed back to Spike. “We’ll have time to talk later. Your friend is in bad shape, but I think I have something to help her. Let’s go to my hideout.”

Spike wanted to continue his barrage of questions, but then he realized Ember was right, and haste was necessary. He turned towards her. “She’s badly burned, Ember. One of those beasts almost touched her.”

“Let’s see.” Ember crouched down, and Rainbow Dash’s stained coat glowed in the blue light. When Ember saw Dash’s belly, she let out a gasp. “Oh my! That must have hurt!” She felt Dash’s forehead. Then she shook her head and turned to Spike.

“Is she…” Spike began.

“No she’s not, but we have to hurry,” Ember said, her voice firm as a general’s. “She must come back as soon as possible, or the fire will burn her soul away.”

“What?! Can fire do that?” Spike said with a yell.

Ember picked Rainbow Dash up as if she weighed nothing, careful not to touch the awful mark. “The Guardians’ fire can. Now let’s go!”

Spike could only guess at those words, and follow the blue light.

Together they walked for a long time. Ember’s gait was quick, and often Spike had to run to keep up with her, and not lose the only source of light he had. When Ember slowed down a bit he tried something. Spike blew a small green flame, caught it in his claw, and tried to balance it on the tip of his biggest spine. To his own astonishment, the fire didn’t die and kept lying on his head like a miner’s work light. He managed a small smile, and continued.

Their footsteps echoed in the space, and Spike saw why. Once again he was walking in a constructed hallway, with pillars at regular intervals and runes scribbled on the walls. The only difference was that this hallway was absolutely pitch-black. There was not a single red crystal shining, neither raw ones nor shaped ones. As they progressed, Spike noticed another thing which was off, something he couldn’t miss even if he would try to.

It looked as if the builders of the Gauntlet had become sloppy. Walls were half finished, crumbled, or just absent. The pillars became simpler and cruder. The hallway looked unfinished, and Spike wondered whether this would be a very ‘new’ part of the Gauntlet’s strange inner labyrinth. Half-cavern-half-hallway, it snaked on and on through the Gauntlet, the floor becoming increasingly irregular and painful to walk on.

Suddenly, Spike came to a halt, as the blue light of Ember vanished.

Very carefully he continued, not knowing what to expect. Did Ember go around a corner? So far there hadn’t been any in this hallway.

He sidled closer and closer. It had looked as if the ground had swallowed Ember whole.

“Ember, Where are y—“

Spike tripped, stumbled, and rolled down a slope. Rocks bounced against his back, and he felt as if he were tumbling down a set of stairs. He stopped right at the bottom, in a cloud of dust and stones, when a boulder broke his fall. He thought he saw stars lighting up, but then realized they were oil lamps and candles, scattered throughout the cave.

It was an enormous cave, with a central plateau in the middle. Stalactites hung off the wall, and Spike heard the sounds of water. Not just the sound of droplets dripping down the stalactites, but actual moving water, like a stream. There were a couple of stone crates and boxes, piled on top of each other in various corners. The whole cave really did look like a hideout, a primitive hideout of a bandit, fleeing from the law—or a fugitive. A fire burned in a pool of oil.

Rubbing his sore back, Spike got up, and climbed a small hill of loose rocks—almost forming a flight of stairs—to reach the plateau, where Ember stood. She had laid Rainbow Dash down on a massive stalagmite, of which only the base remained. The cut looked so clean that Spike wondered whether Ember had made it herself.

“Spike,” Ember said, when she heard the dragon’s feet on the stone, “get some water and some of those purple mushrooms over at the stream.”

Spike frowned. “Mushrooms? How did you get mushrooms down here?”

But Ember wasn’t about to explain. “Go get them. There’s a pile of jars near the water. Just follow the gurgling sound.”

Spike did so, and found, much to his surprise, an underground stream bubbling between the rocks. The water flowed through a low crack, and disappeared down in another, a few feet away. The water looked fresh and clean. But how was Spike going to carry it? He followed the stream , and then found what he was looking for.

Right ahead, illuminated in the flickering orange light of the oil lamps, was a pile of earthenware jars. Spike wondered whether Ember had made them herself, but then realized that she couldn’t get clay or fire or a turntable down here, so he dispelled the odd thought. Next to the jars were a couple of cups, made of stone as well. Spike reached in the jar, grabbed a couple of dried mushrooms, and filled one of the cups with water. As he walked back to Ember, his head became heavy with yet more questions.

Ember grabbed a few oil lamps and placed them close to Rainbow Dash, so she could see what she was doing. As the wound became illuminated, Spike let out a small gasp when he saw how badly Rainbow Dash had suffered.

“A third degree burn,” Ember muttered under a sigh.

The wound looked like a bloodstain on Rainbow’s blue coat. The skin on the mark was leathery, rimmed by a mixture of black ash and burned hairs. A few blisters sprouted like bubbles on the burn. Spike could almost feel the pain Rainbow Dash had experienced just by looking at it.

Ember once more touched the forehead of Rainbow Dash. “I don’t think it’s infected,” she said. “Spike, hand me the water. ”

Spike did so, biting his lips as he forced his gaze away from Dash’s grievous wound.

Holding the bowl between two talons, Ember blew a blue flame in the palm of her other claw, held the cup above it for a few seconds, and then splashed some of the water on Dash’s belly. “No cold water; a little warmer is better,” Ember said, more to herself than to Spike.

Immediately, the black rims became washed away, but the red color looked more intense than before. Ember stuck out a claw. “The mushrooms.”

Spike handed Ember the purple mushrooms. “Does she need to eat them?”

“Rather not,” Ember said. “But she may have to. They do have healing properties, but they might have an abrupt and strange effect on the mind.”

Spike didn’t like the sound of that, but said nothing.

Ember grinded the mushrooms and threw the powder into the bowl of water. A strong scent started to fill the cave, and Spike felt strange. He felt stronger and revitalized, and the pain in his feet felt vague and far away. For a moment, all the running, flying, fleeing, breathing fire, looking in the maws of death, and staying alive slipped off his shoulders. Sleep? What’s sleep? he thought with a smile. But at the same time, he had the feeling that the room spun in front of his eyes. Reaching out, he grabbed a rock to keep himself standing. “Strange stuff.”

Once more Ember splashed water over the wound, looking carefully what happened. At first there was nothing, but after a couple of minutes Ember saw that the red became fainter and shinier, thanks to the mixture she had made. “Good,” she said. “That will make a fancy war wound, pony. Nothing will make you look tougher in front of the stallions than that.”

Spike felt that he could ask her at least one question now, as Ember’s serious mood seemed to have lightened up. “Ember? How do you know all this healing stuff?”

“Well, I’m a dragon,” Ember said, without turning towards Spike. She grabbed the cup. “I feel it is my duty to know how to treat burns. As Dragon-Lady, I must know how to heal a wound, before I can go and heal a dragon nation; and to be honest, I think every dragon should know how to treat burns. What if you would accidentally hit someone during your combat training?”

“Makes sense,” Spike said, although the words swirled in his head.

“Can you get me some more water, Spike?” Ember said, handing him the bowl. “Oh, and as you do, stick your head in the stream for a couple of seconds; it will clear your mind.”

Spike saluted like a soldier, and then hobbled off towards the stream. He did as Ember asked, and although the water was icy cold and Spike quickly withdrew his head with a sudden gasp, he did feel the drowsiness of the mushrooms wave away. He trotted back as quickly as he could.

“Thanks,” said Ember. Then once again she performed the trick with the flame to heat up the water, but now she didn’t stop until it was bubbling and boiling. Once again she grinded mushrooms between her slender claws and tossed the powder in the water. Holding the cup close to Dash’s muzzle, she covered her mouth so the pegasus started breathing in the fumes through her nose.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

“It’s not working…” Ember said, and put the bowl down.

As soon as the bowl touched the table, Rainbow Dash shot upright, screaming.

Ember fell down, but quickly flapped her wings to dive off the plateau. Spike, once again, tumbled backwards off the rocks.

With a jump and a twist, Rainbow Dash was back on her hooves. Her eyes looked as if she was running for her life, bound in veins and with their rose color shining. She was breathing wildly, and her chest heaved up and down like a triathlon flier’s. She looked from the left to the right, and up, but couldn’t see the sky. Then, with a shock, she remembered where she was. The sanity broke through her confused mind, her eyes regained their normal shape and size, and she sat down upon the broken stalagmite table. It was then that the pain struck her.

“AH! It hurts!” Dash yelled, cursing under her breath. She wanted to clutch her stomach, but that hurt even more. Her belly felt as if she’d done a million sit-ups, then a million more because she had been slow.

“Is that normal?” Spike said, but Ember was already flying towards Rainbow Dash.

“Here, sniff this,” she said, and shoved the bowl underneath Dash’s nose.

Rainbow Dash didn’t need to be told twice, and inhaled deeply. Immediately, she felt the vapors drift to her head and through her stomach, where they stayed as a healing mist until she breathed out again. A few more times Dash breathed in the fumes, then she pushed the bowl away. “Thanks.” But then, her eyes went wild once more. “A DRAGON! Spike! Get behind me!”

“No, Rainbow Dash, wait! It is Ember!” Spike yelled, having recovered from his fall quickly.

Dash was already in bucking position. A second later and she would have dealt a blow. Now, however, it was just a blow of awkwardness that struck her. She turned around and faced the dragon. “Oh… eh… sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ember said with a smile. “I would have blocked your kick anyway.”

To that, Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Ember chuckled again. “So your name is Rainbow Dash? Pleasure to meet you. My name is Ember, which you’ve already guessed, of course.”

Rainbow Dash returned the handshake with her hoof. “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks,” Ember said. It was as if Dash was coming for a housewarming, and Ember thought it must be the vapors playing Dash’s mind like a piano. “I understand you have many questions, but let’s discuss those around the fire. You can drink at the stream, but I’m afraid I have not much left to eat.”

“That’s alright,” Rainbow Dash said, and tried to walk towards the sound of the water, a bit unsteady on her legs, and taking care to walk smoothly so her belly wouldn’t sting so much.

Spike already went to the campfire, together with Ember. Spike said down on a stone, but Ember disappeared into the shadows. She came back at the same time as Rainbow Dash, dragging two boulders along. Those boulders were each as big as her head, and Rainbow Dash would never had thought Ember’s thin arms would be able to carry such a big load, nor her graceful claws being able to have such a firm grip. Dash nodded in her direction as Ember put them down, and whispered, “Nice.”

Then they both took a seat, as if the rocks were bar stools, and looked a moment in the oil-fueled flames. The only sound was the dripping of stalactites.

“Why oil?” Rainbow Dash said at last; apparently the mushroom cloud hadn’t worn off yet.

“Wood has mostly rotten away in the temple,” Ember said, throwing some rocks in the blue-orange flames. “but there’s plenty of oil lamps if you know where to look.”

Spike veered up. “So it’s a temple then—the Gauntlet of Fire is actually a temple.”

“No,” Ember said. “The Gauntlet is on top of the temple, or rather, the temple is built underneath the Gauntlet of Fire.”

“Well, you seem to know our way around pretty well,” Rainbow Dash said, scooting closer to the dragon. “It was you who saved us, I guess.”

Ember nodded. “I saw you in the hallways, and I must say I’m surprised. I’ve had… a lot of time to explore the hallways, hidden doors, traps, stockrooms, archives and what more, but I have never seen the actual treasure chamber before.”

“Wait… you saw us?” Rainbow Dash said with a frown. “How?”

Reaching behind the biggest spine on her head, Ember pulled out a tiny red stone, quite like the crystals Rainbow Dash and Spike had seen. Only this one wasn’t transparent or gave off light. It looked the darkest shade of red, almost black, and glimmered in the firelight as if it hungered for it.

Then, Ember stood up, and without much ceremony she threw the stone into the fire. The thing started to sizzle, and then a haze of flame erupted from the stone, hovering a few feet above the fire. The haze took the form of a flame-rimmed mirror, and it showed a hallway like the one Rainbow Dash and Spike had trodden in, with pillars and shining red crystals.

“Wow!” Rainbow Dash and Spike said simultaneously.

Ember nodded. “I found it in one of the archives, together with loads of stone tablets explaining its properties. I can look with it through the Bloodstones you have seen in the hallways, and it can track things that live in the caverns. The tablets say it is a magically-infused Bloodstone shard, much like the stone in the Bloodstone Scepter.” She snatched the stone out the fire; the mirror dissolved into hot smoke. “This little stone here saved my hide more times than I could count, As I watched for Guardians or looked ahead for traps. Sometimes I would spend whole days looking at the different Bloodstones in all the hallways, trying to find the Tablet. I’ve made a good many maps thanks to my little friend here, but the temple is a real labyrinth. I can show you.”

And before Dash or Spike could ask more questions, Ember stood up, and flew to one side of the cavern. Piled up against the walls were many flat pieces of stone, covered in runes and scribblings. It was a place with particularly smooth walls and floors, and there, lit by the oil lamps all around, where several dozens of maps, carved in the stone. Rainbow Dash and Spike looked at them in wonder.

“I tried to make each map cover one floor,” Ember said with a sigh, “but it’s so confusing.”

When Dash and Spike looked closer, they could see little squares with crosses through them.

“The chamber’s I’ve explored,” Ember said, as she saw them staring. “Stockrooms, archives, shrines, everything you can think of.”

There were crosses everywhere. Rainbow Dash wondered what in Equestria Ember had found in all those chambers, while Spike’s mind boggled with the realization that Ember had been inside the Gauntlet of Fire for a long time, according to these maps.

“How long have you been here?” Spike said, still gazing at the maps.

Ember shrugged. “No idea. It’s hard to keep track of time when you can’t see the sun or the moon.”

But Spike made a rough guess, and reckoned it must have been months. “How did you stay alive? What did you eat? What did you drink?”

“Well… there’s loads of crystals,” Ember said. “And the stockrooms I’ve explored gave me an army’s worth of honey, rice, salt, sugar, beans, and even vanilla.”

Rainbow Dash looked at Ember with a strange expression. “Wait, you didn’t actually eat that stuff, right?”

“Of course I did,” Ember said, folding her arms. “Such foods will stay good forever, you know—when properly stored, I mean. You don’t want to know how many storerooms I’ve plundered with jars and jars of the stuff. But I’m afraid my supply is growing thin.”

“Do you have some gemstones?” Spike suddenly said, feeling a nasty knot in his stomach now that they were talking about food.

Ember looked at him, but her mind was elsewhere. “Yes, I do,” she said at last. “Wait a sec.” Ember jumped up and flew into the shadows. Rainbow Dash and Spike could hear her going through some stuff while they were observing the rest of the wall. Then Ember came flying back with a stone box in her hand; it had golden hinges and a golden lock. “Alright,” she said, her tone suddenly serious. “There’s Bloodstones inside. Once I open it, grab a few and put them in your mouth as fast as you can, ok?”

“Uh-huh,” Spike said, although Ember’s words left him in puzzlement.

She opened the box, Spike swallowed some Bloodstones with a content grin (he grabbed almost all of them), and then the box slammed shut. “Good,” Ember said.

“Why all the mystery over a snack?” Rainbow Dash said.

Ember secured the lock on the box, and made sure that it stood behind a boulder before she turned to Rainbow Dash. She spoke in a hushed voice, as if the stones had ears. “I think we’re being watched.”

“Huh? How? By whom?”

The name came like a guttural sound out of Ember’s throat. “Garble. Ever since he threw me into the Gauntlet, bad luck seemed to follow me. Lava streams started to rise, volcanic gasses started to form, roofs began to collapse. It was only once I accidentally stepped on a trapdoor and tumbled down into a part of the Gauntlet which had been shaped as a section of the temple—a part which was pitch-black—that my luck seemed to have turned. I think he can see us through the stones, and manipulate the Gauntlet somehow.”

Rainbow Dash stepped closer. “That would explain the sudden lava streams we had to fly from. Do you think those fiery monsters were controlled by him to?”

Ember let out a sniff. “The Guardians? Hah! In his dreams. No, the Guardians are protecting the Obsidian Tablet.”

“The what?” Spike and Rainbow Dash said together.

After a glance at both creatures’ confused faces, Ember sighed. “Let’s go back to the fire. It’s a long story.”

Without another word, they all walked back to the fire; Rainbow Dash flew, for it hurt her belly less. They sat down; Ember sighed once more, cleared her throat, and spoke up.

“The Obsidian Tablet has to do with the origin of the dragon race. It’s a really long story, but I’ll try to summarize it as best as I can.” Ember let out a chuckle. “We don’t want to die of starvation, now, do we?”

But the dark joke missed Dash’s and Spike’s ears. Ember sat straighter, and began her tale.

“Long ago, when the creation of Equestria was still cooling down, the dragon race was born. The dragon lands were nothing more than a few volcanoes, spilling its hot loads into the sea to form the surface of the Dragon Lands. One day, a volcano, mightier, bigger, and hotter than all the others erupted in a cloud of shadow, the Gauntlet of Fire. Its lava flowed like a golden river from its flanks, but encountered the Celestial Sea, which at that time didn’t bear that name yet. When the lava cooled down as quickly as this”—Ember snapped her claws, and a blue spark sizzled away—“it turned into obsidian. But then something extraordinary happened. The water and the lava mingled with the shadows and the dust, and it stirred something, some primeval force unable to describe. As the elements cooled down, an egg remained—a new life.”

Rainbow Dash and Spike sat at the edge of their seat, captivated by the story of Ember, which she told so vividly. Spike thought for a moment that Ember would make quite a good Ogres and Oubliettes game master.

“It was a dragon—the first dragon. First of its kind. No dragon knows his name, because no dragon had yet been named at that time. But we call him Meteor, the Firstborn. From whom—”

“Hey,” Spike cried out as he jumped up. “I’ve heard one of Garble’s dragons mention that name.”

Ember threw an angry stare at Spike. She didn’t even need to say something, as Spike got the message, slumped down on his rock, and shut his mouth.

“So,” Ember said after clearing her throat. “Meteor the Firstborn, made of the very essence of the volcano. He had bones of obsidian, wings of ash and dust, and a maw which could swallow the sun. But that was not what he did. For apart from his ferocity, he was wise as well. He knew that this world already had goddesses, who had sprouted from existence much sooner than he had: Celestia and Luna. So he made a pact with them. He would leave Celestia and Luna alone, if he could have all the land he could create in one single day. To this they agreed, and I guess it was out of fear as well, because Meteor was big, and could become a god if he wanted to, I’m sure of that. But he didn’t, and instead, he spent the whole day awakening volcanoes and spitting lava all over the Celestial Sea, thus creating the lands we know today as the Dragon lands.

“But he wasn’t done yet. After the day was over he had created the Dragon Lands, but he was still the only dragon, and felt that he needed a people to rule over, because he had the spark of godhood inside of him, which was hard to extinguish. So at the end of the day, Meteor took a break of all the land shaping, and created dragons out of the obsidian which had formed his egg; there was still some essence of life inside of it.

“That’s when things began to look bad. When Celestia and Luna flew towards the lands he created, they saw the dragons Meteor had given life. Each of them was at least half as big as he, filled with the same power and desire to become gods. The pony princesses got very angry because of that, and argued that they hadn’t agreed on such a thing. They wanted Meteor to destroy his creations, but of course, he refused.

“A long and terrible battle was fought, which blackened the skies with ash and made beams of magic like lightning flash through the skies. In the end, after thirteen days and thirteen nights, the sisters conquered Meteor.”

Ember let out another sigh, a sigh which hid something. Spike noticed it, and wondered whether Ember would have wanted something else to happen. A question for another time, Spike thought. In private.

Meanwhile, Ember continued her tale. “After the princesses destroyed Meteor, they couldn’t find it in their hearts to simply erase a whole civilization—for that was what the dragons started to build. Instead, they made them smaller, and regulated their power, until they were shaped like the dragons are today. From then on, the hate for all ponies has been passed down through generations of dragons, as you probably saw in Garble and his followers.”

Both Spike and Rainbow Dash nodded, but said nothing.

“The remaining, weakened dragons took Meteor’s bones and hid them somewhere, for fear that his deeds may be forgotten or his remains defiled by ponies. No dragon has ever found the bones of the Firstborn, and no dragon has heard so much as rumors regarding its location—false promises of power and dominion by fools. But the ancient dragons weren’t fools at all. They knew that the place where they honored their old god would in the end become forgotten by future generations. That’s why, as soon as they developed an alphabet, they wrote down the exact location on an obsidian tablet, which they hid somewhere as well.”

“And you think the Tablet’s here,” Spike said, who really could not contain his voice any longer.

Ember nodded. “Yes. And I think Garble is after it as well. Surely he must have been searching for a long time, and as he saw your progress through the halls, I’m sure he thinks the same as I do.”

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash jumped up with a flap of her wings, and hovered above the rocks. “Wow! That would make an awesome Daring Do book! But how do you know all this stuff? I thought dragons didn’t read books?”

To the name ‘Daring Do,’ Ember looked puzzled for a moment, but she could answer Dash’s second question. “I got some books from your friend, Twilight Sparkle, about ancient dragon culture. That way I learned some of the old language, even though the information had many gaps. But I managed to fill those up with all of the temples’ libraries. Lots and lots of libraries. It seemed that once they found out how to write things down, they really got the hang of it.”

They all managed a small chuckle, although the darkness was heavy. After that there was silence, and some of the oil lamps started to flicker and their flames died.

After a while, Spike spoke up. His voice sounded weak in the fading light. “So… What are we gonna do?”

To that, Ember sprang up, and snatched an oil lamp from the wall. “Well, Garble must not find the Tablet—”she filled it with new oil, relit it, and tossed it to Rainbow Dash, who caught the thing with her mouth; then she looked back—“so we’re gonna find it first.”

* *

How many hallways they passed, Spike couldn’t tell. They were walking much slower now, taking care not to fall in the cracks or sudden holes that appeared in the half-finished temple. After some time the floor started to increase in quality, and the walls became smoother again. Also, the Bloodstone chandeliers returned.

Ember halted, and looked at her company. “As you can see, before us begin the Bloodstones again. I managed to break them all in the previous chambers.”

“You think Garble can see us?” Spike said, the trembling of his voice amplified in the dark echoes.

Ember shook her head. “I think he reckons us dead. The last time you guys were around Bloodstones was at the end of the trapdoor hallway, with those Guardians on your tails.”

“Well, what’s there to worry about then?” Dash said with a snort.

Ember looked down into the hallway, then back at Rainbow Dash. When she spoke, her tone was vague. “I don’t know… It’s just that I never like the idea that someone can spy on me. Let’s just… let’s just be careful and mind our steps, okay?”

“Sure,” Dash said. Spike just nodded, his anxiety higher than ever.

They continued into the now more comfortable-looking and brighter hallways. Darkness became mingled with light, gloom with shine, shadow with sparkle. Spike looked at the Bloodstones, now knowing what they did, and felt as if Garble’s false eyes were always watching him. He looked back at Rainbow Dash, and although she did her best to hide it, Spike saw that her eyes darted across the hallway as well, although there was nothing to see.

Sometimes, when a side passage revealed itself out of the darkness, Ember stopped, pulled out the magical Bloodstone, and blew a small flame into it. After a couple of pensive seconds, she then smothered the living flame and went on again, certain that they would go the right way—and that there wouldn’t be any hidden traps.

It was at one of those moments that Spike realized he had no idea where they were going.

“Back to that treasure chamber,” Ember said, when Spike asked her about it. “The Guardians have probably retreated, and I would like to investigate that place a little more.”

Spike nodded, although he didn’t like the ‘probably’ at all.

Then, Ember’s eyes met Spike’s. “That reminds me, why did you come back to the Dragon Lands, Spike? And why in Equestria did you take a pony along? I haven’t even asked you about it.”

“Pegasus,” Dash corrected.

Spike met Ember’s gaze. “Well, we didn’t know that the Dragon Lands were messed up as they are now—no offense.”

“None taken,” Ember said. “It was better before Garble got the Scepter. You know, it was really going to look like a nice, peaceful trading venture of dragons and ponies, until—“

“Yeah, How did that happen anyway?” Rainbow Dash said, hovering closer to Ember. “I mean, Garble told us about it, but he made a big show about it, and I reckon he blew that story up.”

Ember let out a snort; a cloud of hot smoke escaped through her nostrils. For a moment she looked as if she was going to punch a rock right in two, but calmed herself down, although her voice trembled with rage. “The rat stole it from me. He snuck into my bedroom and grabbed the thing from its case. After that he ordered…” Ember paused. “He ordered my father to fly around the world forever, no doubt one of his sick jokes.”

Spike and Dash looked at her; if Ember cried, she didn’t show it, or her tears would dissolve into smoke anyway. “And then he threw you into the Gauntlet,” Rainbow Dash after an uncomfortable silence.

“Yes.” Ember let out another snort, but no smoke appeared through her nostrils this time. She had to stay strong for them, Ember knew that. Quickly, she decided to change the subject. “So why did you come here? I guess it wasn’t for a friendly neighborhood visit.”

“One of our friends is in danger,” Rainbow Dash said.

“What? Twilight’s in danger?” Ember’s voice was laden with sorrow.

“No, not Twilight,” Dash said. “Fluttershy.”

But Ember had never met Fluttershy before, so Rainbow Dash and Spike started to tell Ember all about her, leaving no detail untold. They felt better speaking about their friend, as if the mention of her name made the dark walls and oppressing air seem lighter and more innocent. Their minds went back to their mission, as they saw the scared face of their friend before them, right at that moment, when she’d bolted off and into the teleportation device to disappear from the world.

At first Ember couldn’t believe it, as they told her all the things that had happened on that strange evening. But nevertheless she closed her eyes and nodded. “We’ll find a way out of here, with or without the tablet. We’ll find a way out of here and get in touch with the resistance, because I’m sure there will be one. Perhaps they will be able to lend us their forges to craft your parts, although they themselves probably need them badly. I’ll see what I can arrange. You guys go and save your friend, and when all is well, we will start a rebellion together, and regain my right to the throne.”

Powerful words, and a powerful promise. The voice of Ember filled Rainbow Dash and Spike with ferocity, as if a dragon’s spirit flowed on Ember’s tones. She really does sound like a general, Rainbow Dash thought, and reckoned that she would be more than capable of starting a rebellion—or a war.

Onwards they walked, taking turns, sloping down or climbing up, descending stairs and crossing rooms. All the while they were silent now, preparing for the coming events. All of the halls and corridors looked the same, so Dash and Spike didn’t realize that the turn they now took was the one with the treasure room at the end, before the golden halls opened before them.

Even though they had already been in there, they still let out a cry. But then they flashed their eyes around, looking for the beasts that had hunted them right into Ember’s claws. Of them they saw no sign.

The room looked unchanged. Still the silent sentinels stood with the roof in their claws, and the magma flowed beneath the bridge. The only things that were different were some extra cracks in the bridge, and heavy black stains on the floor where the monsters had begun their hunt.

“Unbelievable,” Ember whispered. But when Dash and Spike followed her gaze, they saw that the former Dragon Lady wasn’t looking at the gold at all. With a flap of her wings, she jumped up and into the sky, flying towards one of the stone dragon statues. She motioned for Rainbow Dash to follow, which she did. Once they were at the same height, Rainbow Dash said, “Have you read about these?”

“I have,” Ember wasn’t looking in Dash’s eyes; she was looking in the dragon’s.

The eyes looked too detailed to be made of stone, and stared right back at her, cast in an everlasting frown beneath scaly stone eyebrows. Ember reached out and grabbed the slit pupils of the eyes, which stuck out like handles. “You get the other one,” Ember said to Rainbow Dash, and nudged with her head to the opposing statue.

When Dash took hold of the pupils, she discovered that they were handles. She looked at Ember, nodded, and then they turned the handles at the same time.

Immediately, a heavy crunching sound filled the whole room. Rainbow Dash flew back and landed next to Spike, who stood trembling on his legs. Whether it was because of fear or because of the shaking earth, Rainbow Dash could easily guess. For a moment, Rainbow Dash thought that a new monster would spring down on them from somewhere, as she could swear she saw some movement.

And she was right.

The two stone dragons began lowering their claws. Slowly at first, but then their movements became faster and smoother, as if the hidden mechanism had to warm up. They turned to face each other as if they were alive, as if they were discussing what to do next. Ember landed next to them too, looking in awe at the scene before her eyes. Dust and pieces of rock rained down from the statues’ joints and limbs, as they grabbed each other’s claws.

“The first king and queen,” Ember whispered, and then found that she was kneeling to the ground.

The statues turned their heads towards the wall, opened their enormous maws, and roared as loudly as if they were alive. The roar was immediately followed by an enormous crash, accompanied by the sound of cracking stone, as the statues smashed the wall in between them open, using their claws as hammers.

Ember had closed her ears, but Rainbow Dash and Spike were deafened by the sound. It took a good long while before they could hear again, and when they could, they heard each other’s cry of amazement.

Behind the two statues, whose fists lay broken on the ground together with their mighty arms, an enormous breach in the wall opened to yet another hallway, from which a blue light shone.

Ember wasted no time. “Come on!” she said, leading the way and jumping over the statues into the next room, but not before bowing once more to the two stone dragons.

Dash and Spike were too baffled to disobey; Dash had to scoop Spike up and carry him on her back.

In a flash of hope, Rainbow Dash thought that the blue light meant sky and light and freedom, but instead they were crystals, shining brighter even than the Bloodstones, and doing their best to illuminate the enormous chamber they occupied. Still, the center was clad in shadow, but they could see what lay before them: a set of black stairs. Rune-covered stairs led up and up and up, where at the top a blue light illuminated some kind of altar, nestled between two pillars of blue crystal.

Ember stopped at the bottom of the stairs, together with Dash and Spike. They stared up in the distance, then at each other. Even though they couldn’t see it yet, they knew they had found it. They knew they had found the right chamber. This is where it had to be. This is where the Obsidian Tablet would have to be.

They started to ascend the stairs in silence, looking almost reverently up ahead. As they climbed higher and higher on the irregular steps, Rainbow Dash noticed that they became flanked by huge, black pillars, as smooth as steel spear tips, arching over their heads. Rainbow Dash wondered how high the chamber must be, for the roof was clad in shadows.

As they moved, the ground suddenly disappeared into a black hole. The stairs seemed to loom over a large cliff, of which neither Ember nor Spike, nor Rainbow Dash could see the bottom. Spike swallowed, and focused instead on the top.

Step by step, the altar came into view. It was rimmed by sharp rocks, standing like spikes upright around the stones in a wide arc. The altar was filled with holes, as if it were also haphazardly finished by its builders.

They stopped.

Ember, Spike, and Rainbow Dash now stood so close that they could see something up ahead. Something big; a dark shape on the altar.They looked at each other, and felt suddenly afraid to speak. Their gazes were a mix of awe, fear, and eagerness. Their gazes spoke just one name, ‘The Obsidian Tablet.’

They knew they had found what they had been looking for, until the shape turned around, and looked at them with a single eye underneath a deep hood.

“There you are at last,” Chain Link said.

Spike jumped in fright, nearly falling off the stairs. Rainbow Dash flapped her wings and took off in the air, waving her shock away and making place for the wits she would need in a fight. Only Ember stood unmoved, albeit with eyes glittering in surprise.

“I’ve always had a funny feeling when I was around you, Chain Link,” she said to the figure in the dark.

“Then your instincts have not betrayed you, Dragon-Lady,” Chain link said, his voice as cold as the light in which he stepped. As he did, his chains rattled around him, almost as if they were alive and withdrawing from the light.

“Wait, you know this guy?” Dash said, not taking her eyes off her potential enemy.

“Yes. He was my first adversary,” Ember said. Then she turned her red eyes to the hooded dragon again. “Why are you here, Chain Link?”

The old dragon started to sway, almost unnoticeably, on his feet. “I am here because it is fated. You are here because it is fated. Spike the dragon and Rainbow Dash the pegasus are here because it is fated. It is meant to be.”

Dash was just about to ask Chain Link to stop speaking in riddles, when he continued. “I have come here to make a stand, as are you. I am still your first adversary, for I have never followed Garble and his false dragon code.” He paused, and cleared his throat; it sounded like grating stones. “Awesomeness… I don’t remember Meteor saying that word when he gave us the dragon code.”

“Yeah, it does sound kind of weird, when you put it that way,” Ember said.

Chain Link nodded; his chains clinked. “The dragon code has always been about fury and strength, taking only what we need from inferior races; a chaotic relationship. Forging alliances, conquering other peoples; all things that were not promised by Meteor the Firstborn. The ideals of the dragon code have always been given from father to son, transferred orally, for the sake of memory. This new ‘dragon code,’ Garble invented himself.”

A silence followed. Spike accidentally nudged a stone off the stairs—he couldn’t hear it hit a bottom. In the silence, Rainbow Dash’s battle-ready mind took a second to ask itself how old Chain Link had to be, when he claimed to have heard the dragon code from Meteor the Firstborn himself.

Chain link let out a gurgle, and spit on the ground. The floor became stained with red, and the stone sizzled where the drop had fallen.

“I don’t have much time,” Chain Link said. He paused once more, lowering his head as if he were thinking what to say. With a jerk, his pale, white eye pieced into Ember. “But I have doubts about your code as well, Dragon-Lady Ember. You opt for peace instead of conquest, which is better… I think. Trading with other races and lands instead of raiding…” He fell into silence again. “I am not sure it is what the Firstborn wants.”

Ember frowned. Wants… present tense?

Suddenly, Chain Link’s claws were revealed, as he took out what he had hidden from sight. It was the Obsidian Tablet. A piece of the blackest stone, polished to an infinite gleam. It was so clear that Rainbow Dash, Spike, and Ember could all see the runes scribbled on it, glowing blue with the crystals which shone upon the Tablet.

“This,” Chain Link said, holding the tablet right in front of him, “is the destiny of the dragon race. It contains the Firstborn’s will, his memory, his thoughts… his soul. It is destined to be handed down from Dragon-Lord to Dragon-Lord, who shapes it into his own dragon code.” He lowered the Tablet and let out a sigh like a silent stream. “But I have broken my oath by not giving it to Garble. For that, I should die, but it is not my time yet.”

He did a step back, back into the shadows, where he left the Tablet on the altar. They couldn’t see him anymore, but his voice still sounded.

“According to the voice of Meteor, which I have heard often the past millennia, the Obsidian Tablet will go to a dragon worthy of wielding it. And I am not sure who that will be.”

Rainbow Dash could feel the air growing cold. Everyone felt it, felt the tension in the air; the threat that lingered like a cold mist.

“And now I shall make my stand.”

Chain Link reappeared in the light. He had thrown off his robes, revealing sharp grey spines upon a greyer body full of sinewy muscles, covered by a layer of mail. His hands were long, and three fingers bore curved, jagged claws. But he didn’t use those.

With a flick of his wrist, a chain shot into his palm, snaked around his arm and shoulder, and then launched itself towards Rainbow Dash like a spring.

But Dash knew something was about to happen, and she dodged the chain with a somersault. She heard it rattle against the wall behind her.

“Come on, Spike!” Ember yelled, and did a step back. As soon as she had positioned herself, she breathed in, and let out a swirling torrent of blue flames, soon followed by Spike’s thin lance.

The air became filled with smoke and fire, and the altar was plunged into a tsunami of flames. After a second which felt like an hour, Ember and Spike stopped their attack, and waited for the figure of Chain Link to reappear through the smoke. Of course they knew that their attack couldn’t hurt him, for he was a dragon as well. But the blinding wave had given Rainbow Dash the opportunity to hide beneath the stairs.

She got the hint. Dash was there, hovering below the stone of the stairs as silently as she could, ready to pop up and buck the old dragon into the abyss, for she had seen that he had no wings.

Chain Link appeared through the smoke, holding a set of chains in his claw, made of mean steal with spikes and barbs, much like the stem of a rose.

“A futile attempt,” he said, as he raised his claw. “Not worthy of a Dragon-Lord.”

That was Dash’s cue. She heard the roaring flames go silent, and primed her wings for a burst.

But then things happened too quickly for her.

A hole burned through the stairwell above, an invisible hand squeezed Dash’s barrel tightly. Her belly erupted in flames.

“NO!” Spike shouted.

Chain Link stood on the stairwell, the barbed chain in his hands. It went through the stairwell, and he laughed. “The eyes of Meteor guide me.”

It took Rainbow Dash several second of agony to realize that she was snagged by a chain. The steel cut into her wound, and the pain started to control her body. Like a million, white-hot needles it traveled through her stomach, and Dash couldn’t quite find out if the chain was white-hot or whether her belly would burst open. She screamed, she screamed like she had never screamed before. She could feel how her strength got sapped away through the chain.

“Good,” Chain Link said, and he seemed to grow in size.

But then, just as in the lava tube, Rainbow Dash gave one last fight.

She didn’t know where she got the strength from. Adrenaline? Rage? Desperation? A near-death experience? She felt a spurt of energy go through her body. Dash started to shake, gritted her teeth, placed her legs against the stone of the stairwell above her. Then, she took off.

Luckily the chain wasn’t wrapped around her wings, so Rainbow Dash flapped them harder than the fiercest dragon. She went down, down, down, until the chain pulled taut, and another waterfall of pain shot through her body—but she tried to rush on. Dash heard a crack, and wasn’t sure if it was her bones making that sound or the altar above. It proved to be the latter. With a scream that cut through the darkness like the light of a lantern, Chain Link fell down.

Spike and Ember let out a cry, as they saw Dash and Chain Link tumble down into the darkness. They were long out of sight ere Ember had grabbed Spike, and was diving down after them. As they shot through the darkness, they passed up and under strange vertical columns, and dived through random holes in walls and plateaus, illuminated by occasional patches of blue light. But they didn’t pay any attention to that, for they realized with a shock that they hadn’t heard any sounds in the darkness.

No thump, no scream, no crash.

Nothing.

Then it appeared that they had reached the bottom of the abyss, as a large, uneven floor appeared below them, black and smooth and covered with crystals.

“There!” Spike yelled, stabbing a claw at the floor.

There she lay, but she didn’t move. Rainbow Dash was lying on the ground, motionless, covered by black splinters and shards of blue crystal in a big crater. A few feet away, still grasping the cruel chain, was Chain Link.

He stood upon his feet; the chain rattled in his claw. He walked to and fro, up and down, searching for his enemies. A shard of blue crystal protruded from his eye, and the milky white light it had borne was extinguished.

But then he stood still, as the flap of Ember’s big blue wings reached his ears. He turned them in the right direction, breathed in, and let out a gout of black flames.

She saw it coming, but Ember took no notice of it, for she was a dragon.

A big mistake.

As soon as the flames wrapped their tendrils around her, Ember felt that the fire was different. It was no ordinary dragon fire. She felt it burning, but no wounds appeared on her skin. It burned right through her soul, reaching her heart and her mind and scorching them with white-hot claws. Spike felt the same. Even though Ember tried to protect him, the flames seemed to go right through her body, reaching Spike’s. Like unseen X-rays they lit his muscles on fire, and he thought he might faint.

Ember felt her wings burn from the inside. With a scream, she fell down, and crashed to the floor.

“Meteor’s breath knows no mercy,” Chain Link said. His voice was no longer cold and sharp, but broken, and blood streamed between his teeth as he spoke. He had heard where the two dragons had crashed, and he started walking towards them, slowly but steadily, limping with one leg but using his tail to support himself. All of his chains had fallen off him, except the one he held, and the only rattle he made came from his claws upon the floor and his cruel weapon.

Ember had gotten the worst of Chain Link’s attack, but Spike was still conscious. He felt as if all his bones were liquefied, but he managed to crawl over to Ember’s face. “Ember! Wake up!” The weakness of his voice startled him for a moment. “Ember! Wake up!” he yelled again.

“It is of no use,” Chain Link said, who now knew exactly where they were thanks to Spike’s outcries. “Meteor’s breath consumes all.”

Spike forced himself not to look at the advancing dragon, and instead tried something else. He slapped Ember in the face, once, twice. She didn’t wake up.

“Ember! Please!”

“My doubts are justified, so it seems,” the blood-soaked voice of Chain Link said, dangerously close now. Still Spike didn’t look.

It can’t end like this.

A shadow fell upon them.

Not like this.

Then a thought struck him as fast as lightning: Ember’s healing skills. What healing skills did he know? Fluttershy had once taught him some.

Spike forced open Ember’s mouth, breathed in, and breathed out a small green flame. It danced upon the Dragon Lady’s tongue, and shot in her throat.

Spike could hear the rattle of chains. He could smell the rust.

With a gasp and a cough, Ember shot upright. She looked up, saw Chain Link’s raised fist, and rolled aside.

The dragon’s chain-covered fist slammed into the ground, leaving a big dent in the stone. He grumbled, spit a gobbet of blood onto the floor, and turned his head in the right direction. “You will not escape your destiny!”

Ember felt her head wobble. The flame of Spike was still burning bright in her lungs, transferring energy in a green haze. She looked upon her enemy, who now came rushing towards her. She didn’t know who of the three it was, and realized it too late. Chain Link slammed her to the ground, and Spike rolled away from her, his head bouncing on the floor. Just in time did Ember manage to grab Chain Link’s claws, which dug into her flesh. She let out a yell.

Blood flowed from Chain Link’s eyes and between his teeth, staining Ember’s diamond-blue wings. He looked like a dragon from hell, and his voice gurgled as he spoke. “You cannot scream away your destiny!”

Indeed, Ember saw black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She felt her head become light, and she wondered whether it had already flown away.

“EMBER!”

To the voice of Spike, Ember turned her head. Between the black spots before her eyes, she saw one of them closing in. She snatched it from the sky, and realized what it was.

But she had let go of her enemy’s claw, as she caught the blackness, and Chain Link seized that advantage. His curved claw burrowed itself in Ember’s shoulder; dragon blood painted the ground.

With her last remaining sliver of consciousness, Ember sprang into action. She curled her legs, pushed Chain Link off her, and gave out a yell as his claw ripped free off her shoulder.

Chain Link staggered back, but didn’t fall. Immediately, he flew into a charge in the right direction, because Ember was still sprawled onto the floor.

Waiting…

The eyeless face of Chain Link came into view.

Now!

She gave a vigorous flap with her wings. Chain Link’s mail vest flew up and over his head, and before he knew what happened, a shard of black obsidian stuck out of his heart, driven there by the momentum of his own charge.

Blood marked the black shard, and Chain Link fell to his knees. Even though his eyes were gone, he still looked down to the piece of obsidian, ripping apart his ancient heart. His lips curled up into a bloody smile.

“Killed by the Firstborn himself…”

Then he slumped down, and Chain Link, last of the ancient dragon race, returned to his ancestors.

Chapter sixteen: pieces of the puzzle

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Rarity had gone to the Crystal Empire, Applejack and Pinkie Pie had summoned Discord, Rainbow Dash and Spike had gone to the Dragon Lands, and Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer had stayed in Ponyville. While all of the other ponies had adventures of their own, Starlight and Twilight stayed in their home town, and in their home, the Castle of Friendship. But that didn’t mean they had been idle—far from that.

For days, the two ponies had been working on the teleportation machine. They had gathered what was left and what was broken; they had salvaged what they could and thrown away what couldn’t be used anymore. They had taken inventory, leaving not a single bolt that wasn’t bent or broken out, and came up with quite a list of things that were still usable.

Although the arc was completely melted down, many of the cables and wires that had snapped off were still good to use. They had taken some days to solder them all together again; a painstaking task, but they had a big coil of electrical wire now, so it had been definitely worth it. The pedestal was also okay, so they had brushed it up and marked the foundation where the arc should come, when Rainbow Dash and Spike would return with it. All of the lights were burst, so Starlight and Twilight had made sure to screw them back together, with box loads of light bulbs.

For days they had been clearing, welding, and building as much as they could, so that when everypony else would return it would just be a matter of clicking the last pieces of the puzzle into place.

A life-saving puzzle.

Twilight Sparkle had been quite silent those working days. She had said little, and when she did say something it was always something practical. An instruction, a request, an order; nothing more than that. Often Starlight Glimmer tried to cheer her tutor up with some joke, but Twilight would never laugh, and would just ignore her and continue her work. She chose the most boring and repetitive tasks, so as to numb her mind and to stop it from torturing her.

With every part she made, every screw she fastened, every plate she welded, Twilight saw Fluttershy’s innocent, sensitive face. She was never off her mind, and Twilight felt guilt eat away her mind, slowly devouring it until she was nothing but a mindless workhorse. The only emotion left in her was determination to get Fluttershy back with the machine. Determination, but no faith. She knew she could finish the machine and get it up and running again, but she wondered whether it would be too late. Besides Sauron, there would be many other dangers in that enormous forest, and they flashed by before her mind’s eye.

At the council she had held with her friends, Twilight had tried to sound as hopeful as possible, telling them that Fluttershy would probably be alright, as the Greenwood would be a normal forest. She had done that for the sake of her friends’ spirits, and during that time, she had also clung onto the hope of Radagast the Brown somehow finding Fluttershy. But she knew that was an awful slim chance, and a foolish thought, as Twilight also knew that the Greenwood was an enormous place; the maps of Middle Earth which came with the book were proof of that.

No, a thousand dangers forced their way into Twilight’s head. Fluttershy might have gotten lost in the labyrinth of trees, she might have been eaten by wargs, she might have been captured by goblins and butchered for meat—or worse—been made a slave. Fluttershy might have eaten poisonous mushrooms, as Twilight reckoned that the plants in the Greenwood would be vastly different than the Equestrian flora. The positive thoughts didn’t enter Twilight’s mind, being outnumbered by the dreadful ones. Fluttershy might be found by Radagast, or she might have made some animal friends. Those beautiful, hopeful thoughts eluded her.

Twilight could only guess at the state of the Greenwood now, and whether Sauron would already have spread its dark influence over the forest, because she didn’t know how time worked between two dimensions. Maybe one day in Equestria would be two in Middle Earth; maybe the times would run parallel to each other; Twilight didn’t dare to guess, she just worked. She worked and worked and worked, often until late in the night, allowing little rest for her mind; and when she did rest, she was sleeping on top of the part she was currently working on, only to wake up early in the morning and continue with whatever she had been doing.

Starlight Glimmer had tried to help Twilight. She had made sure her tutor ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner; had made sure she would sleep in her bed and on time (but Twilight would get up anyway, and sneak back to work); or had taken some of the tasks off her hooves—it had helped little.

And now, Twilight Sparkle looked almost as wrecked as the last component of the teleportation machine: the computer.

The thing had overloaded, and had practically exploded. It lay on the ground in a heap of glass, metal, wires, loose keys from keyboards, circuit boards, and many other components found in computers. It was the only part that would be totally irreparable, sensitive as the electronics were. But it was also the only part which they could replace and rebuild in Ponyville—in the castle itself, in fact. Not that Twilight Sparkle had a whole stash of spare computers stored somewhere. No, they had to get help for that, and so they went off to the workshop of Ponyville’s best (and only) scientist and inventor: Doctor Whooves.

His workshop stood at the edge of Ponyville, both for practical reasons like field tests as for safety, so a sudden explosion or fire would not damage other buildings in town. Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer were walking through Ponyville together, with Twilight blinking hard against the sun—it had been a while since she had seen that big, round orb.

They walked in silence through the empty streets of Ponyville. Starlight Glimmer looked up in the sky at the beautiful sun, and then at the cheerful little houses of Ponyville, illuminated by the rays of light together with their flowery gardens. The whole town had a certain idyllic look, as if it would be summer all year long, and Starlight usually enjoyed every minute of that. Now, however, she would trade it all to see Twilight Sparkle laugh—just once.

“It’s a… a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Starlight couldn’t think of a lamer way to begin conversation, but she was quite out of ideas.

Twilight nodded, but said nothing. Her eyes were turned to the ground.

Starlight didn’t give up. “The sun is shining, the flowers growing, the birds are singing…”

“Uh-huh.”

And that was the end of Starlight’s futile attempts. She paused to think about something else.

The houses and stores they passed looked awfully deserted. Doors were locked, ‘open’ signs were turned to ‘closed,’ and nopony was on the streets—nopony at all. The silence felt strange, as if Ponyville had been turned into a ghost town.

Starlight turned her ears around, trying to catch some sound. Then, an applause, faint in the distance, reached her ears. An applause followed by a voice in a microphone, the words it spoke indistinguishable. She turned her head towards the sound, and saw some balloons rising in the air. “Hey look, Twilight!” she said, nudging her friend and pointing at the sky.

Twilight did her best to turn her eyes up.

“There must be some party going on somewhere,” Starlight Glimmer said. “Is it a Ponyville holiday or something?”

Twilight shrugged; her head drooped down again.

Now Starlight was really concerned. Twilight loved facts and giving answers to questions and spreading knowledge. Starlight’s voice became earnest. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Twilight. We will get Fluttershy back.”

“That’s not it,” Twilight said, her voice meek and croaked. “I’m scared she might be… might be… and all because of… me!”

Starlight walked closer to Twilight so she could hear her voice. “You shouldn’t place all the guilt on yourself, Twilight, it was an acc—“

“Don’t you feel guilty?” Twilight suddenly said.

Now Starlight’s ears drooped down as well. “I do, Twilight, I really do. But I also know that we have to keep our wits. We have to keep it together, or else we will make mistakes. When Fluttershy comes back, we can all say how sorry we are, but for that, we’ll have to get her back first. We cannot make mistakes.”

The words reached Twilight’s ears, and she realized that Starlight was right. They shouldn’t make mistakes. She had to keep her head clear. Suddenly, Twilight Sparkle felt like the student, who had just received a wise lesson from her mentor to clear her silly mind. “Will you help me?”

Starlight Glimmer swung a hoof over Twilight’s shoulders. “Of course, Twilight.”

And as they continued, Twilight Sparkle walked with her head raised.

After a few more country roads, lining beautiful green fields, the two ponies came around one last bend, and stopped in front of Doctor Whooves’s laboratory. It was shaped like a tower, topped by a big telescope for one of the many sciences the Doctor practiced: astronomy. There were many windows for optimal lighting during the day, and through them, curious ponies would often peek inside and guess what the Doctor was working on, which they often couldn’t.

Twilight and Starlight stopped before the door, and knocked thrice. For a moment there was silence, and Starlight Glimmer hoped that Doctor Whooves wouldn’t be out enjoying whatever party was apparently going on at the moment. But when she heard somepony stumble and say, “I’m coming! I’m coming!” she knew that her fears were ungrounded. With a smile she reasoned that if Doctor Whooves would be anything like Twilight Sparkle—a scientist—then of course he would be working on some invention instead of wasting time in the frivolities.

Starlight Glimmer was right, because the door opened, revealing the Doctor.

“Well, good morning,” he said, doing his best to straighten his green bowtie, which hung haphazardly to the right. “How can I help you?”

Ponies often came to him with broken machinery or requests, and the Doctor reckoned that Twilight Sparkle would undoubtedly need some kind of tool. Of course, he couldn’t be farther from the truth.

But Twilight Sparkle suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She looked at Starlight, who also didn’t know what to say. Then she looked at the ground, or at the sky, or over the Doctor’s shoulder; anywhere but his eyes. “Eh… Doctor,” she began. “Do you remember that computer you lent me…”

“Oh no…” Doctor Whooves slapped his head with his hoof, as he instantly guessed what had happened. Then he turned around, and marched into his workshop. His voice echoed in the big room. “Oh my, oh my! That would be the second computer I’ve lost… In a week!”

Twilight and Starlight didn’t really know what to do, so they followed him inside. Soon, they became surrounded with machines, contraptions, vehicles, electronics, wood, steel, nuts, and bolts. But they didn’t pay any attention to that, they just looked at Doctor Whooves, cantering about like a headless chicken. “The second computer! For goodness sake!”

At last he slumped down on a chair next to a desk with a welding station and a dozen small devices. He buried his head in his hooves, and for a moment, Starlight and Twilight thought he was crying.

“First a DJ computer for that wild rascal Vinyl Scratch, and now my fellow scientist friend has betrayed me too!” he sobbed. “Whoever can I trust nowadays! Whoever still upholds the values of being careful with sensitive electronics!”

Starlight wanted to lay a hoof on his shoulder, to try to calm him down and comfort him as best as she could, but the Doctor continued his rant.

“But never mind, no!” he said, waving his hooves around. “’Bring it to the Doctor, he will fix it! He will get a shiny, brand new replacement so we have something new to molest.’” His voice was high as he imitated some other voice. Suddenly, he looked turned around and looked from Twilight to Starlight and back. “Well, I guess that is just my fate. The fate of a scientist.” His shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. “Alright, Twilight. I will make an exception because you are my most loyal customer. What do you need, and what do you need it for?”

Twilight Sparkle wasn’t sure whether it would be polite to immediately ask what she wanted from him—but he had asked her, after all. “We need a computer, just like the one you made me before. Do you remember?”

“Eh…” the Doctor scratched his chin. “I’m afraid I don’t, excuse me there. My memory has been quite a collection of rusty cogs lately. What did you need it for again?”

When Twilight had asked for it, she had made sure to keep her exact intentions a secret, but now she saw that she had to tell the Doctor everything, whether she wanted to or not.

Twilight swallowed. “Well, it’s for… for, eh…” She found that she couldn’t say it, and felt the image of Fluttershy dominate her mind. She sniffed. “For… eh…”

Starlight Glimmer wanted to help her tutor, so she stepped closer and said, “It’s for a tele—“

In a flash, Twilight changed her mind; her head jerked up. “Wait!”

“A telewait?” Doctor Whooves said. “What an odd name for an invention.”

“No not a telewait,” Twilight said, her eyes looking at Starlight, who became startled at the panic they showed. “It’s a tele… eh… phone! A telephone!”

“Now that sounds better,” Doctor Whooves said. He bent forward, as he felt genuinely interested now. “What does it do?”

“It, eh… It eh…” Twilight’s eyes shot at Starlight Glimmer, and they screamed, ‘help me, please!’

Starlight searched in her mind; she ended her search at the science fiction books she used to read—and still did. “It allows your voice to be at two places at the same time,” she said, trying her best to sound smart, as if she knew exactly what she was talking about. “So you can communicate over long distances without actually being there.”

“Yes,” Twilight said, and forced a smile. “Very soon, writing letters will belong to the past, and we will all use a telepone.”

“Telephone,” Starlight whispered. She too, managed the most innocent smile she could.

Suddenly, Doctor Whooves stood up and let out a loud burst of laughter. Twilight and Starlight joined in, not knowing whether the Doctor bought the lie or not.

“That’s brilliant!” Doctor Whooves said, flashing his eyes from Starlight to Twilight. Then he jumped up, and started cantering from corner to corner as he talked. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that would look like, or what great things such an invention would give us.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Oh! There are so many ways of using such a thing. We can give it to all the rulers of Equestria, so they are always connected! Or-or perhaps we can put them in cabins and spread them across the land, so everypony can speak with everyone everywhere! And perhaps we can call those… call boxes! Amazing!”

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer threw a glance at each other; they both expressed the same puzzlement.

Doctor Whooves stopped walking and turned to them with an enormous smile on his face. “Of course I will help you. I do have a spare computer lying around somewhere.” He looked around, but when he couldn’t find it immediately, he turned to the ponies again. “You know, with such a revolutionary invention, I feel it is my duty as a scientist to help you. Two brains know more than one, you know? Yes! I will help you program the thing. That should definitely speed up the process, and bring the wonder of the ‘telephone’ upon Equestria in no time!”

No sooner said than done. After they found the computer somewhere hidden behind numerous other half-finished, abandoned, or failed inventions, they loaded it into a cart and rode straight back to the Castle of Friendship. All the way to the castle, the Doctor didn’t stop blabbering about the wonders of Twilight’s imaginary invention, and she and Starlight just nodded and smiled.

When at last the thing stood inside the study room, the ponies set to work. Twilight and Starlight connected the wires and cables to the computer, while Doctor Whooves couldn’t stop staring at the half-built teleportation device, and asked dozens and dozens of questions and kept guessing and guessing about the ‘telephone’s’ inner workings. Only when Twilight fired up the computer and the screens flashed to life did the Doctor fall silent, as Twilight Sparkle started to give him instructions on how she wanted the computer to be programmed.

All the while the Doctor nodded and absorbed the information, although his mind kept working on making connections between Twilight’s instructions and a possible way the ‘telephone’ might work, and found that her instructions and his thoughts didn’t match at all. Strange as he found this, he saw that Twilight and Starlight didn’t want to reveal much about their project. With a small sigh of disappointment, he realized that they wanted it to stay a secret, and set to work.

Soon, the only sound filling the study hall was the sound of hooves pressing keys and clicking buttons. The three ponies stood around the computer, each working on separate screens. Numbers and codes flashed by, which the ponies incorporated in the computer to create the software necessary to start the teleportation process.

As Twilight didn’t need to smile all the time before the Doctor, and could hide behind her screen, her ears drooped down, and her thoughts once again went to Fluttershy. She tried her best to focus on the task, but she just couldn’t. Often her gaze strayed to Starlight’s screen, and then she recalled her words and forced herself to concentrate and hammer the keyboard once again. But she struggled. Keep it together, Twilight…

They worked and worked for hours on end in total silence, until the clock struck twelve.

“Ah, wonderful!” the Doctor called, stepping away from his screen and darting towards the door. “It’s teatime! Would you all care for a cup?”

“Sure,” Starlight said.

Twilight nodded.

“Splendid!” Doctor Whooves clopped his hooves together. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, he disappeared through the door.

The two remaining ponies were left in silence. Starlight sat down, allowing her eyes a brief rest from all the digits and codes.

Twilight slumped back into a chair, and looked at the ground. All the hours of silence had weighed heavily on her mind, as many thoughts had accompanied her. She wanted to speak them out, found that she couldn’t, but then tried it anyway.

“That’s the second time I’ve lied to my friends…”

Starlight looked at her tutor. “What do you mean? The telephone?”

Twilight nodded.

“But that doesn’t matter much,” Starlight said, her voice gentle and soothing. “Just a little white lie. Besides, I found it kind of funny. I mean, we both know that such a thing will never become reality, right?” She managed a small chuckle.

But Twilight Sparkle didn’t laugh along, and then Starlight realized what Twilight meant. I wasn’t the lie itself, it was the fact that she had lied. Starlight thought she knew why. “It’s alright, Twilight. Not everypony has to know about the accident.”

Suddenly, Twilight burst out in tears. “I feel so ashamed, Starlight.”

Starlight Glimmer stood up and walked towards her tutor. “Don’t be. It was an accident. Nothing more than that. A stupid, silly accident.”

“It’s not only that,” twilight said between sobs. “I’ve lied to all of you. I’ve lied to all of my friends.”

“What? How?”

Twilight forced her voice to calm down. She waved away some tears. “I… I haven’t borrowed any magic from Discord. I’ve borrowed magic from… from…”

“You can tell me anything, Twilight.”

Gathering her strength, she finally said the names. “From princess Celestia and princess Luna.”

“Oh my!” Starlight said. Now she understood everything. Twilight had been too ashamed to ask the princesses, who had trusted her with a fraction of their god-like magical powers, to give her more magic after the accident. In Twilight’s eyes, she had abused the power, and had instead sent Applejack and Pinkie Pie to their former enemy, Discord, to get the magic from him. She’d saddled her friends up with such a difficult task, only because she was too ashamed to ask the princesses.

And that’s why I couldn’t send that letter…

Starlight Glimmer took Twilight’s chin in her hoof and raised her head. “It’s alright,” she said, and nuzzled her tutor. “I’m sure they will get it done. Hay, if there’s one pony crazy enough to be able to reason with Discord, it’s Pinkie Pie.” Starlight looked Twilight in the eyes. “And sending Applejack with her was a wise decision of you. She will keep her in check, and make sure everything goes well and nothing strange happens. You did a good job, Twilight. And if they fail, we can always ask the princesses anyway.”

Twilight Sparkle turned around, leaving Starlight’s hoof hanging. “No we can’t.” She went back to her screen and started to push some buttons. Her screen flickered to life again.

It pained Starlight’s heart to see her friend that way, and she was just about to try and comfort her once more, when the door opened.

“A delightful day to you all,” Rarity said, stepping inside with some flair. “I have returned from my task.”

Both Twilight and Starlight turned their heads towards the door. Twilight quickly swiped away some tears.

Starlight Glimmer let out a gasp when she saw the stones. “Wow! Those look amazing!”

“Indeed they do,” Rarity said, and laid down the two shiny rocks on a table which wasn’t covered with parts. Immediately, Starlight and Twilight gathered around.

“Strange colors,” Starlight said.

Rarity looked at her reflection in the stones. “Don’t they look absolutely fabulous? I’ve named them Flutterite.”

“Good name,” Starlight said, but the name of the rocks pained Twilight’s ears.

Rarity looked at Starlight with glittering eyes. “Thank you. I had to go through a nasty and dusty mine for them, but in the end we actually had a very good time. It had been a good trip.”

“We?” Starlight noted.

A blush stained Rarity’s alabaster cheeks. “Eh… never mind. I-I-I will tell you all about my adventures later.” She quickly changed subject. “So… what are you doing? Is everything going according to plan?”

“It is,” Starlight said. “We’ve gained the help of Doctor Whooves, and at this rate I think we will finish programming the computers by the end of the afternoon. It’s all going so fast.”

“How wonderful.” Rarity brushed a lock of her mane from her eyes. “I hope the others return quickly as well, so we can put the puzzle together, don’t you think?”

Starlight Glimmer touched her chin with her hoof. “Yes. I wonder what they’re—“

But once again Starlight got interrupted by the door. It slammed open with an enormous bang; the crystal windows rattled in their frames. “Make way, make way,” Discord’s voice called through the space. “Your savior has arrived!” He was still wearing his armor.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie were walking next to him. Pinkie Pie was skipping and jumping as cheerfully as she always did, while Applejack looked pained—and that wasn’t just because of the sudden sound.

“Discord, welcome,” Starlight Glimmer said, doing her best to sound polite. “We’re glad you’re here. Now we can get to work on the crystals, as Rarity has just brought them to us.”

“Splendid,” Discord said, and dispelled his armor so he could walk better. Then, he threw a big glance at Applejack, who didn’t look back, and then at Twilight and Starlight, because he knew they were the leaders in the project. “Let’s fulfill my end of the promise, so you all can fulfill yours.”

“Promise?” Starlight said; Twilight raised her eyebrow as well.

Discord snapped his fingers, and in a flash, he teleported right in front of Twilight’s and Starlight’s muzzles, as if he wanted to amplify his words that way. “Well, of course. You see, your friends Applejack and Pinkie Pie made a wonderful promise to me. A promise which will launch me into the world of famous heroes. Oh! I simply can’t wait.”

Meanwhile Applejack and Pinkie Pie had neared, and they received many questioning glares.

“Shall I tell them, or do you want to tell them?” Discord said, his words aimed at Applejack. Of course Discord knew that she had only grudgingly accepted the offer, and he took every opportunity to rub it in her face.

But Pinkie Pie started bouncing up and down in excitement. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Pick me! Pick me!”

Discord let out a small sigh. “Oh, yes. Why not, I suppose.”

Pinkie Pie jumped forward, and onto the table with the Flutterite. Like a medieval announcer, she said, “Hear ye, hear ye. For Discord shall lend his super-duper-amazing-tele-tastic teleportation magic to activate the machine. Then he shall enter the realm of Middle Earth and save Fluttershy from the evil grasp of the Dark Lord Sauron. Oh, and it will be awesome. Hear ye, hear ye!”

Discord let out an applause, which he amplified with his magic so that it sounded like a crowd full of listeners. “Bravo! Bravo! I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“WHAT?!” came the baffled outcry from Twilight, Starlight, and Rarity.

“Yes, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Discord said, completely (or deliberately) missing the meaning of the yell.

Starlight was the first to recover from the news. “Discord, can we have a little private moment? A private pony moment?”

“Well…” Discord looked at his watch, which he had conjured up a second ago. “Oh, look! It’s quite past teatime. How about I go and make some tea for you all and leave you to your ‘private moment.’”

“How wonderful,” Rarity said. “Chamomile tea for me, if you please.”

“Of course.” Discord turned around, snapped his fingers, and teleported away to the other side of the door, once again making a point about his teleportation magic.

Immediately, all gazes fell on Applejack and Pinkie Pie.

“How in Equestria could you have made such a promise?” Rarity said, more to Applejack than to Pinkie Pie, for she knew that Pinkie did strange things—but Applejack? “How could you be so careless?”

Applejack frowned. “I wasn’t careless; it was the only option we had. Only when Discord would be the one going through that machine, did he want to give us some of his magic. We had no choice.”

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie stopped bouncing, as she saw what she had done. She hadn’t realized that it would be such a big problem; it had been an impulsive decision, as were all her decisions. She hung her head down, when she felt some guilt bubbling up. “I’m sorry everypony.”

“Don’t be, Pinkie Pie,” Starlight said. “I understand the situation, and I’m sure Twilight does too.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t speak any more words, because her mind was already racing with options. She was the one who had placed her friends before such a hard task, convincing Discord. And now she felt the responsibility weigh down on her shoulders, together with all the guilt and shame her mind had gathered the past days. It almost became too much for her.

“What are we going to do?” Rarity asked, looking at everypony in turn, and ending her gaze at Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight looked up. “I… I don’t know,” she said, her voice soft as thoughts lingered in her head. “We can’t possibly let him go through that portal. Goodness knows what will happen.”

Applejack took off her hat and nodded. “That’s what I thought too.”

“Then do you want to… betray him?” Rarity said.

That was the most obvious thing to do, but Twilight shook her head. “I’m not sure. Discord is our friend… kind of. But I know that making him angry is a bad idea, especially with his ‘reformation’ process.” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut as if the doubt pained her. “Oh! I wish Fluttershy were here. She knows Discord through and through, and she would definitely know how he would react if we would break our promise.”

“So you are going to break it?” Applejack asked.

Pinkie looked pensive. “Well… he didn’t Pinkie promise, so…”

Rarity thought it quite an unladylike thing to do, but she didn’t speak.

Thinking along with her tutor, Starlight couldn’t come to a solution herself, and left it up to Twilight Sparkle to decide.

There was silence. A pensive silence, like the one at the council of ponies. Everypony thought, but everypony’s mind reached a dead end. The decision lingered in the air; it was simply too difficult.

Then, Twilight veered up, as an out-of-the-box idea struck her. “I… I think I’ve got something, everypony. I don’t know if it will work, and I’m sure it’s not a very good solution, but I don’t think we have a choice. With the parts that are left, I can—“

Suddenly, the door once again opened with a slam, and in marched Discord.

“Here we are again!” Discord yelled, as he led the way. “I hope you enjoyed your private moment!”

Doctor Whooves was walking behind him, pushing a tray with steaming teacups. “Hello, everyone,” he said, and put the tray down on the table. “I’m terribly sorry it took so long, but I got a bit lost in this enormous castle; I have never been here before, after all, but I only realized that after I saw all of those winding hallways. Luckily I found this nice gentle… eh…”

“Draconequus,” Discord said.

“Draconequus,” Doctor Whooves continued, “and he showed me the way. What a nice friend he is, isn’t he?”

To that, everypony looked each other in the eyes, but nodded their heads after a second, hoping that Discord wouldn’t see the hesitation.

Chapter seventeen: the Dragon-Lord’s command

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Once again Rainbow Dash walked the delicate tightrope between life and death. Spike could see her chest barely moving beneath the cloak of chain wrapped around her barrel. He grabbed it in his claws and tried to pull it off her, careful enough not to let the nasty barbs cut into her skin.

Ember sat on the ground, clutching her shoulder. Her claws were covered in blood both hers and Chain Link’s. She glanced one more time at the dead dragon, but couldn’t find him. He had stepped into the shadows with his last stagger, and no trace remained of him.

But Ember didn’t really care. She got up and walked towards Spike and the bloodied pegasus he tried to help, staggering but using her tail to steady herself, as she had seen Chain Link doing. Ember saw Spike struggling with the chain, and the little dragon withdrew his claw as he cut himself on the rusty links.

“Let me, Spike.”

Spike scooted aside, and Ember knelt down beside Rainbow Dash. She began to unwrap the chain very gently, rolling Rainbow Dash slowly over the ground and lifting her over the rusted metal. As the chain was completely removed, Ember tossed the thing far away, where it rattled and fell into another bottomless abyss.

“Oh my!”

Rainbow Dash looked as if she’d been whipped a dozen times. Red stripes traced all around her barrel, dripping her lifeblood upon the floor. Immediately, Ember placed a claw on her neck to feel for a pulse. It was very weak. Then she carefully grabbed the pegasus, and laid her down next to a cluster of blue crystals, so she could see her better. In the light of the crystals, Dash looked very pale. Ember let out a sigh and shook her head. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Spike had never felt more scared, even though the battle was already over. The thought of losing his friend had never occurred to him, not even on their most dangerous adventures. Spike liked to read the Daring Do books as well, and he always silently compared Dash and Do together. They were so similar: awesome, tough, unstoppable. Spike knew that Daring Do would overcome every challenge, every enemy, every trap—and so would Rainbow Dash.

But now Dash lay before him, bloodied and badly hurt. Fear and sorrow washed over Spike, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He wanted to do something. He wanted to help her, but didn’t know how. At last he raised his head and looked at Ember. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Ember looked from side to side. “I… I…” Had she been in her cave, she could at least have cleaned the wounds with water, or give Dash some pain-killing herbs or mushrooms. Ember could have scouted out a few storage rooms in the temple and get something to eat, and all the while Rainbow Dash could sleep to regain her strength. But she wasn’t in her hideout now, and she knew that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t make the trip back; she didn’t even dare to pick her up again.

Suddenly, she felt rage bubble up inside of her. With a violent flame burning in her gut, she jumped up, and began to pace around despite the dizziness in her head. “Damn it!” she called into the darkness. “Damn it all!” But then she knew how to name her rage. “Damn you, Garble!”

Ever since the red dragon had taken her throne, nothing but bad luck had befallen Ember, and now one of her allies—one of her friends—was going to die because of that sneaky beast. She felt so powerless, because there was absolutely nothing she could do for Rainbow Dash, and powerlessness was a feeling every dragon hated. Ember let out a yell, which echoed in the darkness. A gout of blue flame, wild and shocking, escaped her mouth and tortured the air. She kept walking in no particular direction, and ended her stamping in front of a blue crystal.

“Curse you, Garble!” she cried out, as she withdrew her claw and brought it down with a crash against the shiny blue stone. The top shattered and erupted into a thousand razor-sharp splinters, but Ember couldn’t care less. She had punched with her gouged shoulder, and knew that the wound would burst open and bleed again, but Ember couldn’t care less.

Luckily for Ember, the splinters missed her scales and her shoulder, and then something strange happened. Ember didn’t feel anything at all.

For a moment, the pain was gone and away. She moved her shoulder; it felt fine. When she looked, she saw that the bleeding had stopped, and a thick scar ran down her shoulder to her armpit, as if the wound had been bandaged for weeks, and had been allowed much time to heal.

“Ember? What are you doing?” Spike called, as he heard the loud crash.

“I… I don’t know…” As Ember looked again, she saw that thin blue wisps of smoke curled away from her wound. She followed them with her eyes, and ended her gaze at the shattered crystal.

The crystals!

Unbeknown to Ember, she had discovered the finest treatment in ancient dragon traditional medicine: healing crystals. The thought hadn’t occurred to her once that while the red Bloodstones had magical properties, the blue crystals might have some too.

Ember flapped her wings, feeling that they were less sore as well, and flew over to Rainbow Dash. She scooped her up and laid her down next to the shattered crystal.

Spike trotted behind. “What are you doing?”

“The crystals!” Ember said without looking up. “They can help, I think.”

Spike raised his eyebrows, but then saw the closed wound on Ember’s shoulder. Even the blood was gone.

With a jump, Ember landed behind the shattered crystal, and began flapping her wings, creating a soft breeze aimed at Rainbow Dash. The vapors, still rising from the molested crystal, touched down on Rainbow Dash, but nothing happened.

“It’s not working!” Spike yelled; his voice was hoarse.

Ember flapped her wings harder now, only sending the vapors past or over the pegasus on the ground. In a flash, Ember thought she knew why it didn’t work, for perhaps the crystals only healed dragons.

“No damn it! Live! LIVE!”

Spike inspected Dash’s belly, to see if the marks or the burn would heal. Instead, he saw that her belly went up and down slower and slower; her breathing weakened. With desperation clawing at his heart, a single panicky idea struck him. “Smash another one!”

Ember didn’t even have time to think; she acted. She jumped to another crystal. For a second, Ember saw Garble’s face reflected in it. Then she gritted her teeth, and with renewed strength in her shoulder she punched the top of the crystal to smithereens.

A cloud of blue erupted from the thing, as this one was even fresher than the one Ember had destroyed before. Immediately, Ember flapped her wings, and soon Rainbow Dash became engulfed in a blue mist.

Spike tried to help too, and waved his arms as to steer the vapors to his friend. To his surprise, he discovered that the blue wisps stuck to his claw. He gathered some in a ball, and gently placed it upon Rainbow Dash’s belly.

After a few seconds, the mist was already gone, and the crystal depleted. Ember crouched down next to Rainbow Dash, her heart burning with hope, and watched her wounds.

She searched and searched, but couldn’t find them.

Not a single scar covered Dash’s body. Ember could have concluded therefore that the blue crystal she had used on Rainbow Dash was ripened more than the other one, but she didn’t. Instead, the hope flared up into a smile. “Yes,” she said. “YES!” Once again she felt for a pulse; it felt like the heart of a horse should feel: strong, loyal, brave.

Then, almost as if she awakened from a very pleasant dream, Rainbow Dash opened her eyes. “Ugh... What happened?”

“Rainbow Dash! You’re alive!” An explosion of cheer erupted in Spike, and he wanted to hug his friend like he’d never hugged her before. But then he thought twice, because he didn’t know whether Dash’s wounds were completely healed.

They were. Rainbow Dash looked around, saw Ember, Spike, the darkness, the strange structure and black floor, the crystals; and she remembered what happened. “Did we beat him?”

“We did,” Ember said. “As he knew we would.” She let out a sigh of relief at hearing the pegasus talking again. She would make a good dragon, Ember thought. Strong, spirited, loyal…

Rainbow Dash didn’t want to think about that cryptic answer. She stood up, and had a strange sensation flowing through her body. It felt as if all her bones and muscles had been taken out and replaced with new ones. She felt as if she needed to get used to these new limbs as someone would have to get used to a new bicycle. I hope my wings are still the same, Rainbow Dash thought, as she waved them around. “Yep. All good.” With a chuckle she figured that she should try her ‘new limbs’ out on something. With a few cantering steps she stood opposite of a crystal, turned around, and bucked like a wild rodeo horse.

The crystal broke with a loud clink. Spike and Ember laughed at the sight. Rainbow Dash was as good as new. Ember picked up Spike, and held him above the smoking crystal. The gash on his head mended, and his feet felt as if he had just gotten a new pair of them. He briefly wondered if that was what new horseshoes on a pony would feel like.

When the vapors dissolved and Rainbow Dash had enough of kicking things into smithereens, they gathered together.

“There’s just one more problem,” Rainbow Dash said. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

Ember looked around her for a second, then turned to Rainbow Dash. “I don’t know… This whole room is so strange. It looks so chaotic, not like the smooth and comfortable hallways and rooms we’ve come across. I guess we should investigate this room a little more.”

Suddenly Rainbow Dash took off and hovered in mid-air. “Yeah! And let’s start with that Obsidian Tablet, shall we?”

Ember gave Spike a wink. Then she scooped him up and flew in the air, while Rainbow Dash led the way. Again they passed strange, random columns and holes in the roof. It looked as if there had been a cave-in, and all the black stones were scattered in the abyss. But that didn’t make sense, because if that would be so, then all of the pillars and supports and rocks should be piled up at the bottom of it.

The stairway came into view, but they didn’t bother climbing it again. With a few more flaps of their wings, Rainbow Dash and Ember were standing on the altar, with Spike behind them. Shining and glittering, the Obsidian Tablet welcomed them. Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure whether they should grab it, but then reckoned that the trap had already sprung, and besides, Chain Link had held the thing in his claws as well. Nevertheless, Rainbow Dash stepped back together with Spike, as they both felt that Ember should be the one to claim the ancient dragon artifact.

Ember stepped forward almost reverently, looked at her reflection in the shiny obsidian for a second, and then grabbed it.

The moment Ember’s claw touched the stone, she changed. She felt different, older, more complete. A wave of knowledge washed over her mind, and she felt it opening up. The will of the Firstborn crashed into her mind like a battering ram, but soon accommodated to her sharp wits. It shaped itself to fit right into her being. For a moment, there was no Dragon-Lady Ember anymore, but an ancient Dragon-Lord, gazing at a tablet with its own memories.

Dash and Spike did more steps back, as the tablet began to glow brighter and brighter. They saw that Ember was shuddering, as if she were reading a horror novel. For a moment, Dash felt like intervening and grabbing the tablet from Ember, but Spike stopped her. Somehow he knew that breaking this spell would do more harm than good.

A thud resounded as Ember fell to her knees, holding the tablet high above her head, as if she were worshipping it. “I can see…” She muttered in a voice that was not her own. “The new Dragon-Lord has appeared.”

To the sound of that strange, deep dark voice, Spike trembled. He knew that this couldn’t be good. He did a step forward, shielding his eyes against the black light.

“The new…” Ember did a step forward.

Spike thought she was going to jump off the altar; she was so close to the edge.

“And the old…” the voice spoke.

Rainbow Dash started to follow as well; she couldn’t let Spike down.

“Shall be…” Ember flapped her wings, and landed on the roof of the altar, flanked by two enormous pillars. She walked to the middle.

Rainbow Dash and Spike landed next to her. Spike reached out towards the tablet, but it was too high for him.

“REUNITED!” the voice roared. Ember knelt down, and smashed the Obsidian Tablet to the ground, where it erupted into a blinding flash.

Then, Rainbow Dash and Spike saw something that they would never forget.

The letters on the tablet glowed brighter and brighter, until they dissolved into sizzling bolts of electricity. Like white-hot snakes they slithered around the altar, around the stairwell, around the strange cave and pillars and platforms in the unseen depths. Dash and Spike watched them descend into the abyss.

The air roared with electricity; the cave wall shuddered as if it were afraid. The whole cave started to move. Suddenly, one of the great black pillars raised up before their eyes, and grabbed the side of the cave with gigantic talons. In the dim light, Dash and Spike saw that the claws were each as big as Ponyville’s town hall, and dug into the rocks like a million drills. An enormous rumble went through the altar. Rainbow Dash flew up, while Spike clung to the gigantic curved pillars that stuck out of the roof.

Suddenly, an enormous fire, hotter than a thousand bonfires, lit up beneath them; one at each side of the structure. The Firstborn opened his eyes.

He moved slowly like an unstoppable force. Another claw reached out and grabbed the other side of the cavern, as Meteor steadied his bones. The stairs began to move and to sway, as Meteor shook his head, waking up out of his millennium-long dream.

Spike and Dash looked at each other. Both of them simultaneously understood what was going on and asked the desperate question of what was about to happen next.

The floor on which they stood changed. It transformed from a cold, hard, obsidian surface to a leathery skin, wrapping around the horns and forming angry eyebrows over the fiery eyes. The altar cracked in two, as the Firstborn opened his mouth to take his first breaths after an eternity spent in the abyss.

Rainbow Dash and Spike looked down, as they saw the skin creep down into the cave, carried on sparks of electricity. When it passed over the clusters of blue crystals, they shattered and spread their gasses, only speeding up the rejuvenation process. Suddenly, an enormous airstream nearly knocked Dash, Spike, and Ember off Meteor’s head. When they looked down, their view became obscured by an enormous, leathery screen, rimmed by flames. The Firstborn was ready for takeoff.

A roar like a sonic rainboom thundered through the cave, and for a moment Rainbow Dash and Spike thought their ears might explode. With a roar of appreciation, the Firstborn basked in his new life.

The wings disappeared, revealing the rest of his body for a few seconds. Although the blue crystals were all destroyed, the joints of Meteor the Firstborn had been renewed with living flame, and roared with renewed youth.

A few seconds, then he took flight.

Meteor flapped his mighty wings, and shot up and up and up on that single beat. Rainbow Dash and Spike were afraid that he would soon meet the wall of the cave, and flatten them all on top of his head.

But no roof appeared; just more blackness. Meteor flapped his wings for a second time; the cave below collapsed. Higher and higher they soared, carried by the Firstborn himself towards the end, whatever that might be.

Still no roof. Rainbow Dash, Spike, and Ember looked up, and could see faint sparkles appear above their heads. Small, silvery specks which seemed to dance before their eyes. Water? Stalactites? Gemstones? They were small, but didn’t seem to come closer. Then a cold wind greeted them, as Meteor the Firstborn dived into the night sky, free at last from his cavernous grave.

The crazed ascension ended, and Meteor hung still into the air above the Dragon Lands, crushing rocks underneath the airstream of his wings.

Rainbow Dash was the first to get her bearings. She looked around for her friends. Ember sat down on top of the Obsidian Tablet, looking around with eyes full of disbelief, and yet she understood everything that had just happened. Suddenly, when Meteor raised his wings for another mighty beat, and the rushing winds were silent, Rainbow Dash heard a faint cry. Recognizing the voice of Spike, and hearing immediately where it came from, Rainbow Dash jumped up over Meteor’s head, and launched into a dive.

Far below, like a purple speck against the grey soil, Spike tumbled down the sky. When Meteor had sailed out of the cavern, Spike had lost his footing, and now he was about halfway down the giant’s scale armor belly.

Long before he would smash into the ground, Rainbow Dash had reached the little dragon. She scooped him up and flapped her wings. Next to her, in stark contrast, Meteor’s wing had reached its apex, and thundered down into a mighty beat. The air punched the earth below, bounced up, surged upwards into a torrent, and took Rainbow Dash and Spike along. They shot up, spinning and tumbling out of control, and reached the head of the Firstborn in no time, where Ember stood and watched them go.

“Whoa there,” she said, as she saw their startled faces. “Don’t have too much fun with my new friend.”

Dash recovered, flew straight again, and swooped down with Spike to meet Ember with a frown.

They stood like that for a moment. Rainbow Dash frowning, Ember smiling, Spike lying down so he wouldn’t get knocked off Meteor’s head once again. They felt the cool night air streaming against their faces, heard the crackling fire of the Firstborn’s eyes softly below them. For a moment, even Meteor was silent.

Then, right on top of the dragon god’s head, they laughed. Ember first, joined a second later by Rainbow Dash. Spike stood baffled; he didn’t know what to think of this. All the struggles, fights, near-death experiences, dark corners, secrets, ancient temples, fears, worries, and injuries came out in a strange burst of laughter. Ember and Dash fell down as their legs gave way. The tension got swept out of the sky, riding on their laughter, off into the night. They knew that it was over. They knew they were free.

At last Rainbow Dash got up, and wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Your friend.” She let out a chuckle. “You friend… You’re friends with a god, Ember!”

“Well… I guess you’re right.” With an agile jump, Ember got up as well. “I am friends with a god. And he is friends with me.”

Ember walked to the edge of Meteor’s head, grabbed one of his horns, which were each as high as the highest tower of Twilight’s castle, and peered down.

Meteor the Firstborn was enormous. He still hovered stationary in the air, awaiting a command. His wings flapped up and down; wings so big they could easily overshadow all of Ponyville, making everyone think that a massive cloud would be in the way. Ember looked down, and could hardly see Meteor’s hind legs, let alone his tail. Meteor’s whole body, from the tip of his horns to the tip of his tail, would be as long as Ponyville’s main street, but Ember took a different method of measurement; she reckoned Meteor was as big as a small volcano—although much more deadly.

When a cloud of smoke waved by, Ember could see the beginning of the Firstborn’s mighty tail, which was as thick as the base of a hill. With a small frown Ember reckoned that they must have been fighting on the enormous flat space of his pelvis. Then her mind wandered to the mysterious disappearance of Chain Link’s body. He has become one with his master, she thought.

She felt it before she heard it; a call in her mind. The Firstborn was getting restless. His head, easily as big as Twilight Sparkle’s throne hall, slowly shook, which felt like a small earthquake. Ember felt a voice, terrible and ancient, as dark and cold as an underground lake, reverberating in her mind. Dragon Lady!

“Ember!” Spike called, balancing on his legs, “we gotta do something!”

Ember looked back at her friends, and reached them with a few flaps of her wings. “Yes. I just… I just don’t know what.”

“Well, you’re Dragon Lady,” Rainbow Dash said. “Just order him to go somewhere.”

Ember looked down at the Firstborn’s skull, where the Obsidian Tablet was still embedded in his forehead. An idea struck her; she had to try something. With unsure steps she walked towards the Tablet, and sat down in front of it. As soon as she crossed her legs, a swirl of energy captured her. Ember felt her mind connect to the Firstborn’s. She felt his mighty wings, his blazing eyes, and his obsidian bones. They were together, and yet still separate. Ember tried to concentrate, and after a second, she could feel the voice of Meteor rumbling through her mind.

Very well, Meteor said. I shall take you to your rightful throne.

“Hold on, everyone!” Ember shouted, as she felt the enormous body stir.

Meteor came into action.

With one flap of the Firstborn’s wings, Ember could see the spires of the Castle of the Dragon-Lords in the distance, like knives against the moon, stained red by the Dragon Lands’ atmosphere. The moon smiled upon her, and stood like a neutral party in the skies, watching the coming events with great interest.

With the second flap of the Firstborn’s wings, the Garble Gorge, which would soon be called Ember Falls once more, came into view. The houses became obscured by the Firstborn’s wings, and many dragons opened their doors, stepped outside, and gazed at the skies. Some fled back inside; some fell to the ground and bowed; some just stood there with their mouths agape, unable to move; some, although they were very few in number, had such keen eyes that they could see Ember perched on the dragon god’s head, and cheered. Ember looked down, and wondered how many dragons were actually loyal to Garble, and how many would be scared of him.

With the third flap of Meteor’s wings, the castle came into view, looking like a toy castle compared to the godly dragon’s size. The Castle’s guards fled inside, but some could be seen scurrying on the walls, loading catapults and ballistas. A few of them were actually brave enough to fire them, but the arrows were like blades of grass to Meteor, and the rocks were like breadcrumbs. Soon they realized their attempt was utterly insane, and they were gone again in the blink of an eye.

With the fourth flap of Meteor’s wings, he hung still in front of the castle, and Ember could see the lonely figure of Garble standing on the highest balcony, gazing at the dragon god. From that far off, Ember couldn’t read his expression, but she hoped that he was afraid, very afraid. But in the back of her head she knew that he wasn’t, otherwise he would be inside the castle, cowering in the throne room—her throne room.

Suddenly Rainbow Dash jumped up with a cry. “There you are, you slithering murderer!” She flapped her wings and primed herself for an aerial tackle. But Spike grabbed her rainbow tail, skidded a few feet along, and then Dash turned her head. “What are you doing?!”

“Easy, Rainbow Dash,” Spike said. “That’s just what he wants.” Even though Spike felt like he wanted to clip Garble’s wings and toss him into the Gauntlet, he knew that this would be a battle of politics, which Ember had to fight—but not without help.

Ember too, felt a fire and a primeval desire for revenge flare up inside of her. Nevertheless, she forced herself to remain calm; if she would be fighting this battle, she would do it with her wits, and not with raw force or strength—that was Garble’s style.

With a small mental command, Meteor the Firstborn came close to the castle. He used his enormous claws to keep himself steady, planting them into the rocks of the crater’s rim. Then he lowered his head, until Ember was level with the balcony of the castle. The whole crater was clad in shadows, as Meteor’s body blocked out the sun.

Garble stood with his claws behind his back, and with a smile upon his face. He had donned his showman’s mask once more, which hid his bafflement and shock at seeing the creature he had tried so long and so hard to unearth, with the animals on it which he tried so hard to murder. He looked down at the Firstborn’s flaming eyes first, before he met Ember’s sparkling red ones; sparkling with hate. “Well, it looks like he was in the Gauntlet after all. I had my suspicions…”

Ember said nothing. Garble talked to her as if they were having a friendly conversation, and she disgusted his tone of voice.

Garble cleared his throat and continued. “Thank you so much for digging him up, saves me a lot of trouble. Now please dismount your god and surrender yourself to my soldiers, or I will not show you much mercy this time.”

“Mercy?!” Rainbow Dash cried out. She flew up once more, and Spike jerked her tail even harder now to be able to stop her. “You wanted to kill us!”

“No, no, no, you got it all wrong, pony.” Garble sounded as if he were speaking to a little dragon whelp. “I gave you a fair chance at surviving, and you should feel honored to have been a part of the Dragon Games, our most beloved tradition which I invented myself. It’s just a shame you didn’t give us the full show…”

Garble smiled a razor-sharp smile. “Because you forgot to DIE!”

And with those words, he revealed his claws, which clutched the Bloodstone Scepter like a sword. Garble’s eyes flared up together with the crystal, and he pointed the thing at Meteor.

That was something Spike and Rainbow Dash had forgotten about; the Bloodstone Scepter which marks the reigning Dragon-Lord. Garble could use it very well. They looked at Ember, who still stood before Garble unmoved, with her arms crossed.

“Meteor the Firstborn,” Garble’s voice thundered, amplified to a roar by the Scepter’s powers, “I order you to surrender yourself to me, and destroy the ones who ride you now like a pathetic circus horse. Destroy them, and then we will keep to the dragon code and go to war together.”

Dash and Spike looked at each other. Rainbow Dash was already in the air, ready to fly away from danger with Spike on her back. For a moment, their whole ordeal looked useless, as they had delivered the dragon god right into the claws of Garble. Ember still stood on the Firstborn’s forehead, between his horns, and they wondered what she was going to do. Was she going down with her ship? Ember looked pensive, as if she thought really hard about something.

Suddenly, an enormous shock went through the Firstborn’s head, as he smashed his horns like a bull into the Castle of the Dragon-Lords. Stone crumbled, metal screeched, dust filled the air. Garble wobbled on his legs, and decided to take to the skies. A massive crack made the balcony split in two as soon as his feet left it, as if it was all a calculated burst of destruction, like a demolition.

“Only the will of the Firstborn rules here,” Ember said with a strange voice. Meteor’s eyes flared up.

A gout of flame licked Garble’s feet, and he withdrew them with a yell. On Ember’s voice drifted fear and darkness, and it wrapped around Garble’s cold heart. For a moment he felt like flying away as fast as he could, but then he shrugged it off as the hate burned through it. Taking out the Bloodstone Scepter again, he looked at it with eyes that spit fire. His only tool of power, and it proved to be useless against his enemy. With a burst of rage he threw the thing away, and it shattered on Meteor’s dark skin.

Ember looked at her enemy, a smile curling on her lips. She felt the might of the Firstborn coursing through her veins, and she knew that she had Garble right where she wanted him to have.

“RAAAAGH!” Garble roared, and accompanied his cry with a pillar of flame. He knew he was defeated. He knew he couldn’t fight a god. His mind was completely shut down; only rage and anger remained to swirl in a torrent through his mind. But suddenly, from that torrent came an idea, and it was so strong that it was able to bite and wriggle its way like a snake to the front of his mind. With a voice still shaking of rage, Garble said, “Fine, you win! Congratulations! You’re now officially a tyrant, just like me. And you have gained the throne through brute force, just like me. And now you can execute the opposition, just like me.” He calmed down, if only just a bit, and forced a wry smile. “Do you really want to be just like me, Ember?”

Meteor the Firstborn withdrew his head. Ember looked Garble in the eyes, and suddenly, her expression returned. She felt the presence of the Firstborn withdraw from her mind, as if a friend walked out of the room and closed the door. With a shock, Ember realized that Meteor couldn’t help her with this one.

Garble saw the sparkle disappear from Ember’s eyes, and his flared up in response. He felt his position strengthening; the words started to come back one by one. “Yes. So what are you gonna do with your new friend, Ember? You know there’s a lot of dragons loyal to me? Are you going to execute them? Banish them? Exile them?”

Then, a roar, created by many dragon voices, reached Ember’s ears. Even though they all stood far below, Ember could still see them in the bright, flaring sun. All the way down, the inhabitants of the capital city had gathered. Ember took a moment to look down at them all. She saw the many colors, scales, claws, and eyes aimed at the skies. But when she looked closer, she noticed that they were not one single mob at all; they were divided.

One group stood with its fists in the air, and yelled up to support their Dragon-Lord, their Dragon-Lord which would lead them to glory in his upcoming war to conquer all of Equestria. But Ember’s attention wasn’t drawn to the noisy, roaring, waving crowd of dragons; it was drawn to the other group. These were dragons that just stood there, looking at the giant with fearful eyes, not knowing what would happen next, not knowing what the future held in store for them. Ember looked at each one of them, using her keen sight. She saw workers, crafters, families, sometimes even traders; dragons which wanted nothing more than a stable and safe community to live their lives in.

But what about the others? The group which had cheered for Garble was much, much bigger. Wouldn’t it be best to let Garble reign, as the bigger part of the dragon population seemed to support him? The thought was immediately swept away by what Ember saw next. The Garble-supporters were brutes. Enormous dragons with big fists and mean eyes. Dragons too lazy to work. Dragons which would rather destroy than make. Dragons that did not love, but only hated. Dragons eager for battle and war and raiding.

Ember had been that way too, once, she realized that. She had been eager to prove herself in dangerous trials and sometimes even battles, to gain renown and favor from dragons twice her size—and that had made her feel good.

But then she had realized that there was something more to fight for: a nation. She was the daughter of former Dragon-Lord Torch, and had seen how to forge a nation and rule it; how to make dragons live together and work together and fight together. Looking down, she couldn’t see that same dedication in any dragon’s eyes. They just wanted to pillage and plunder, to make themselves better and gain wealth and not care about anything else. They were no army which fought for their country and were proud to defend it. They weren’t even an army looking to conquer land for their Dragon-Lord to increase the size and power of their nation. They were just ordinary raiders and thieves, and would never make the Dragon Lands—or Equestria—a better place.

Ember had no idea what to do with them, but she knew she wanted to continue her politics of peace and trade, and perhaps reform the society and the dragon people.

Garble looked down, and noticed the mob as well. “Look here, look here!” he yelled, pointing at the doubting Ember. “Here is your new tyrant, who uses a god to oppress you all and force her politics on you. You guys better run, because she will rip the dragon code apart.”

There was a small silence, which got quickly filled up by the roar of hundreds of dragon voices below.

A moment of thought, then Ember spoke up. “No Garble,” she said. “You tore the dragon code apart. You only look after yourself and after power, while forgetting all about the safety of your people. You only look out for one group: the warriors.” Then, Ember turned herself to the crowd below, and spoke once again in Meteor’s voice, trying her best to make it sound a little less intimidating. Instantly, the voice accommodated to her will, and became filled with a hopeful promise. “Dragons of the Dragon Lands, hear my voice! During my reign, I will make sure to look after everyone, no matter how big or small, and make sure that every dragon finds its place in the world.”

To her sweet words, the dragon crowd reacted, and now the roles were reversed. Now the honest working folk put their claws in the air, and shouted words of approval, while the warriors shook their heads and roared insults at her and the others. Suddenly, a riot emerged somewhere in the center of the group, as warriors launched an attack on the other dragons. Ember saw the gleam of swords and heard cries of fear. The crowd dispersed and dragons flew into the air, where they were being chased by the armed and dangerous warrior dragons.

Garble looked down upon the chaos and grinned. “My, oh my! Look at what you’ve done, Ember. You’re Dragon-Lady for five minutes and there’s already civil disobedience. You’re so good at this!”

But Ember ignored Garble’s sneer, and instead turned to her own mind. She gathered her wits and her strength, combining it with the Firstborn’s undying will, to let out a terrible roar. It sounded like an erupting volcano; the houses and buildings of the capital city shook in fear. With the roar traveled a sliver of Meteor’s obsidian heart, and then something strange happened.

For a moment, all the dragons not only saw the giant for what he was, but felt him too in their hearts, as a dragon god. Meteor spoke to all of them in their hearts, and to each of them he said something that resonated with the dragons. No matter how big or how small, they were all dragons, and they all lived in the same land, which they had built themselves from the ground up. Meteor’s roar took them back to ancient times, when the dragons lived according to the true and original dragon code, united under a single creed. Suddenly they realized that with the return of the Firstborn, the dragon code would be more original and authentic than ever. A feeling of sweet nostalgia swept through the crowd. They realized that they might live now as they used to live, and that the old and the new would be united under a single, new dragon code. Ember’s progressive ideas would be mixed with Meteor’s ancient knowledge, and would sprout a new era in dragon history. Suddenly, they all became surprised, as a feeling of homecoming overwhelmed them, even though they hadn’t traveled at all. The hostilities were long gone, and some of the warriors stuck out their claws and shook them together with the commoners, as they all realized that they were dragons, and that they were all the same. The dragon code was good for all of them.

But only if the Dragon-Lord would listen to Meteor’s will, and not uphold his own laws and customs and traditions. All things that Garble had done. And although the promise of conquest was alluring, even the most fierce of dragons saw that the will of the Firstborn would be what’s best for them, and that Garble would most likely not listen to the Firstborn at all.

When the roar ended in a grumbling like a small earthquake, the Dragon’s collective voices spoke the name of their new Dragon-Lord—or rather, Dragon-Lady. “EMBER! METEOR! EMBER! METEOR!” And so it went on and on for quite a while, while neither Spike, nor Rainbow Dash, nor Ember, nor Garble spoke. Now all dragons raised their fists in the air and belched colorful flames, to celebrate their collective decision. Ember was the new Dragon-Lord.

Even Spike felt the presence of Meteor in his heart, and the voice spoke wonders. For a brief moment, Spike wanted to live here in the capital city of the Dragon Lands, under Ember’s wise reign which heralded beautiful times. But he quickly dispelled the thought, wonderful as it was, because he saw the faces of his friends in Ponyville flash by before his eyes. Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer, and… Fluttershy.

When he turned his head around to look at Ember, he saw that she was looking at him as well. “I know, Spike,” Ember said, her voice once again normal, but not quite. It sounded more powerful and whole, as if she had gained a new set of vocal cords. “I shall give the order immediately. The schematics will probably be stored in the archives. Together with the smiths, we will make your parts in the blink of an eye, and then you can save your friend. And if there is anything more I can do for you, you just have to ask.”

Spike wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but Rainbow Dash gave out a sudden yelp. “Look!”

They hadn’t paid any attention to him at all, and now only a red speck in the distance was all that remained of Garble.

Rainbow Dash primed herself for a chase, but Ember stopped her. “Let him go,” she said. “He will come back anyway, because he has no friends to turn to. And besides”—she gave her a wink—“Fluttershy deserves our attention much more than he does, doesn’t she?”

To that, Dash and Spike both nodded. “She does,” Dash said.

“Well then…” Ember flashed a smile and spoke both to her friends and to her dragon people. “Let’s get to work!”

And once more, a cheer erupted in the crowd.

Chapter eighteen: it’s not the journey; it’s the destination

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A great commotion went through all of Ponyville, when dark figures came from the East and shot through the air. At first there were gasps, then there were shouts, and then there was panic. Doors were closed, ponies hurried inside and looked through their curtains at the sky. Before long, Ponyville became a ghost town, inhabited only by curious eyes through windows. Only the flower ponies remained on the streets, having fainted before they could reach a door.

The source of the panic came in the form of a band of big, armored dragon warriors. About three dozen were there, each flying in formation with military precision, casting great shadows upon the lands below as they flew through the morning sky. But they weren’t planning any raids on Ponyville, taking what could be taken from frightened hooves. Nor were they planning on destroying the town with their mighty fire, making a statement against Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and cutting off Canterlot’s supply of food and other resources.

No, the ponies had nothing to fear, for these dragons were here to make a delivery.

Each of them was carrying a curious object, made of shiny metal. They looked like pieces of a giant puzzle, brand new and ready to be gathered and put together. Each piece was as big as a cart, or sometimes even bigger, and often loaded on the dragons’ backs, although some preferred to keep them in their claws.

From the Northeast came suddenly another group of flyers, having heard the distress call from Ponyville of an aerial assault. The Wonderbolts, soaring through the sky in a tight arrow formation, came closer and closer, until they finally saw what they were dealing with.

The dragons threw suspicious glances towards the pegasi squad, but Rainbow Dash flew out to meet her colleagues, and assured them of the friendly mission of the dragons. Upon seeing their newest cadet, hearing her story, and with the promise of a detailed status report from this unexpected breach of Equestrian airspace, the Wonderbolts retreated, although their minds were left in puzzlement.

The dragon squadron veered off towards the center of town, making all of the thatched roofs sway with the flap of their powerful wings. There, they turned to the right, aiming for the crystal pinnacle of Twilight Sparkle’s Castle of Friendship.

Down below, hearing no war cries fill the air, and seeing no flickering light of dragon fire, some ponies were brave enough to open their doors and witness the spectacle. The thought crossed some minds that there would perhaps be another dragon migration, even though it was hardly the time of year. Guessing and thinking all they could, the flock of dragons kept them in puzzlement, and would keep them in puzzlement for a long time.

As the dragons reached the Castle of Friendship, they made one last swoop through the air, and then landed one by one on the grassy fields in front of Twilight’s castle. Rainbow Dash was in front of them all, carrying Spike on her back, who really felt like he had participated in the great dragon migration, but ending at the best destination he could imagine: home.

With a surge of purple magic the castle’s doors swung open, and Rainbow Dash was rewarded with the sight of all of her friends (and Discord). Had they known through which adventures and ordeals Rainbow Dash had been, they had probably done a group hug and cried. But instead, they just stopped right before the army of dragons, commanded by Dash and Spike, and looked at them all with confused eyes and many questions in their minds.

“Twilight! Everyone!” Spike jumped off Dash’s back and tried to do a group hug of his own, which he couldn’t do, for all of the ponies stood too far apart. Instead, he locked Twilight Sparkle in a tight embrace. Tears were in his eyes. He was back with his friends, alive and well, a thought which had seemed quite impossible during his adventure.

Now the ponies were even more confused, but Twilight returned the hug anyway. “I’m glad to see you too, Spike. You and Rainbow Dash have been away for such a long time…” When the dragon finally let her go, she looked at Rainbow Dash.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Dash said. “It’s quite a story. But anyway”—she stepped aside and waved a hoof towards the dragon army—“here are your parts, delivered by the dragon express itself.”

Twilight let her gaze wander over all the enormous dragons, standing in full armor and unstrapping the loads they were carrying. Then Twilight scolded herself for being so surprised and stupid. She realized that she hadn’t even thought about a way of transporting the parts from the Dragon Lands to Equestria, as the arc was quite big and heavy. But apparently, Dragon-Lady Ember had been so generous as to lend Dash and Spike some of her finest warriors, which was more than logical, Twilight thought, because everything had been quiet since Ember had become Dragon-Lady so long ago, and she probably wouldn’t even need an army anymore. After Dash and Spike’s tale, however, Twilight would be sure to write quite more often to the Dragon Lands.

After a quick order from Rainbow Dash, the dragons marched into the castle. Their thundering feet made the chandeliers and paintings and windows rattle, and it was a good thing the hallways were so high. Twilight directed them to the study, where they neatly piled up all of the parts and then reassembled themselves onto the grass outside. Meanwhile, a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered near Twilight’s castle, and looked in awe at the mighty dragon soldiers. A gasp went through them when the dragons departed in a cloud of teeth and claws and spines. The citizens of Ponyville would remember that day for a long time, and of course, Twilight Sparkle had some explaining to do.

But not now and then. After all the parts were inside, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Spike said a few quick words to the crowd—with which the bystanders weren’t at all satisfied—and then retreated inside as well. After an hour or two the crowd realized that no explanation would come that day, and returned home, slightly disappointed but very intrigued.

Even Twilight had trouble keeping her curiosity in check, and tried to sneak a few questions through the conversation she and Dash and Spike had when they walked through the crystal hallways.

“I’m sorry Twilight, but the story is really too big to tell right now,” Rainbow Dash said.

“But can’t you summarize it a little bit?” Twilight Sparkle said with hopeful eyes.

Spike shook his head together with Rainbow Dash. “Even then it would take the whole afternoon telling you guys what happened in the Dragon Lands.”

“And what is still happening,” Rainbow Dash added.

But those words of foreshadowing only increased Twilight’s curiosity, and she tried to ask one more time before they reached the study room.

But Rainbow Dash was resolute. “No Twilight. First we save Fluttershy, then we have enough things to talk about for a whole week.”

With the picture of Fluttershy once more in her mind, Twilight’s guilt took over the curiosity, and she cursed herself for being distracted so easily from such a grave and important task. She had to prepare her mind for what was about to come: the construction of the last piece of the puzzle and the experiment which might save a pony life.

The doors of the study were already open, and everyone was gathered around the machine and looking at the doorpost. They were all awaiting Twilight’s instructions, ready to start the last phase of their mission.

As Rainbow Dash stepped inside, however, she cast a sideways glance at Discord, floating over the Flutterite with a pear in his claws. Now she had the urge to ask some questions herself, which she couldn’t contain. “What is he doing here?”

“And I’m very glad to see you too, lovely Rainbow Dash,” Discord said with a frown, as he tossed the remains of his pear into his mouth.

Dash turned to Twilight Sparkle. “I thought you guys only needed his magic, not himself.”

Discord flapped down and landed on the ground, throwing a stare at Rainbow Dash. “Well, you see, Rainbow Dash, they need me very much, for I am the one who will rescue Fluttershy from the dreadful world of Middle Dirt.”

“What?! That’s insane!” Dash said, doing nothing to hide her astonishment.

“He doesn’t even know the name of the land,” Spike added. “It’s Middle Earth.”

Discord waved his claw dismissively. “Earth, dirt, close enough.”

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer stepped between them. They glanced at each other for a split second. Glances which said, ‘Are you going to say it, or shall I say it?’

Starlight thought she would be the better liar of them, although she found the words hard to say. “We… eh… need Discord for our mission, Rainbow Dash. He seemed to be the best candidate to go through the machine.”

“What? But—“

“But we will go along as well, of course,” Starlight added. “That’s what we’ve agreed to.”

Discord crossed his uneven arms. “Yes, yes, yes, fine! As long as I get to be the hero, and you will be the background ponies for once.”

“Of course,” Starlight said together with Twilight. Both ponies forced a smile at Discord’s expectant stare, but the rest of them didn’t even bother.

With a jump, Discord was in the air again. “Alright! Let’s get on with it, then. Let’s make legends happen!”

And so the ponies got to work. Twilight gave the schematics that came with the building kit of the teleportation arc one short glance, before knowing what had to be done. She began giving everypony a small task, and they worked together to build the arc. At first Twilight Sparkle wanted to do it all by herself, together with Starlight Glimmer, but Starlight had urged her to involve her friends as well, as she knew that it would be good for her to feel the bonds of their friendship through cooperation.

Discord, however enthusiastic he sounded at first, was left out of the project altogether, as neither Twilight nor Starlight Glimmer trusted him with delicate tasks. Not that they were afraid of sabotage, because Discord knew very well that the life of his closest pegasus friend was at stake; it was just that he was often sloppy and untidy, and they were afraid of losing parts. But that was fine by Discord, as he didn’t like working with his hands anyway, unless he would be making something chaotic or funny (to him). After a few minutes of questioning the ponies quite annoyingly with, “Oh! What is that?” or “And what does that do?” or “Are you mares done yet?” he decided to watch the working ponies out of a leisurely chair with some more fruit—it was grapes this time.

Twilight and her friends first made the foundation in order, placing the parts on top of each other where they clicked into place. Much to Twilight’s astonishment, they didn’t even need nuts and bolts or screws or nails or welds to keep the parts together. Apparently, the dragons had made some improvements on the schematics Twilight had given them so long ago, inventive as the dragon smiths were. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie did most of the heavy lifting, while Rarity and Spike made sure that the pieces clicked snugly together, and plugged in the cables and tubes. All the while, Twilight oversaw the operation and gave directions, with Starlight behind the computer screens, who made sure that the arc stayed connected and synchronized to the main terminal.

By the end of the afternoon, the foundation was already standing, and they faced a problem, because they couldn’t reach the arc anymore. Applejack came with the idea to make some scaffolding out of books, stacking them on top of each other to create a makeshift stairs. At first Twilight was strongly against that, but agreed anyway; Fluttershy was much more important than a few books. She appointed certain bookcases with less valuable or older books, or books which she had finished reading anyway, and shoved them inside.

Pieces were clicked into place, software was programmed, bolts were fastened, cables were connected, lights were turned on, and soon the ponies were almost done. When the light of the moon filtered through the high windows above, making the shiny new parts glitter and gleam against the crystal of the walls, everypony and Discord was looking at a piece of art, rather than a machine.

Discord conjured up a big pair of sunglasses and placed them on his nose. “Very nice. I knew we could do it!”

He received a strange glare from everypony but turned to Twilight Sparkle anyway. “Say, Twilight, once you are done with it, could I have the arc placed in my front yard? It would make an amazing sundial.”

But Twilight Sparkle (very wisely) decided to ignore Discord’s comment, and instead threw a sidelong glance outside. The stars were gleaming just as brightly as the moon in a stark, deep-black night sky, and Twilight let out a small sigh, before turning to Starlight Glimmer. “Everything online?”

“Yes,” Starlight said from behind her screen, “everything is online.”

Then Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer made three more checks just to make sure everything was connected and assembled in the right way, but they couldn’t spot a single mistake. There was no doubt about it; the teleportation device was almost ready. The only thing missing was the magically-charged Flutterite. “Alright, Discord, your turn now,” Applejack said to him.

Discord dispelled his comfortable chair and his fruit, and floated down towards the table with the colorful crystals. “Very well.” He rubbed his uneven claws together, cracked them, and started observing the rocks as if he were a sculptor about to make a wonderful piece of art. He turned his head around. “Stand back, everypony!”

Twilight Sparkle and her friends did as they were told, until they stood behind the teleportation device and huddled behind the computers. In a flash of thought Twilight Sparkle realized that charging the crystals in the same room as their irreplaceable teleportation machine might not be such a good idea, but before she could stop Discord, he had already begun.

Discord closed his eyes. He could teleport everything he wanted from everywhere with a mere snap of his fingers, for he had done that a million times and it was second nature to him. A transferring spell like this one, however, was something entirely new, and he had to concentrate. He forced the chaotic whirlwind which was his mind to calm down, and focused his energy on gathering his magic. Taking inventory of all the power he possessed, he felt his full might gather inside of him, swirling through his whole body like an electrically-charged river. Sparks erupted from his one deer antler and one gazelle one, as he focused his magical energy into them. For a moment, his antlers looked like sparkly fireworks, and it was a good thing that Discord was facing the other way around, and nothing came flying towards the machine. Then he held the two pieces of Flutterite—one pink; the other yellow—in his claws. Slowly, he brought his antlers down. Down, down, down, until he tapped them gently against the crystals, and immediately retreated, as not to overload the crystals with magic.

A glow shone in the middle of the Flutterite, where Discord had tapped them, and started spreading like paint in a glass of water through the whole crystals. The ponies looked in awe at the crystals in Discord’s claws, as they now emitted a light brighter than the brightest lantern. With a sigh, Discord put them down again. He never liked giving things away, especially something as valuable as power. But he had done it anyway, for Fluttershy, and for honor and glory. “There, it’s done,” he said quite harshly, and walked towards a comfortable chair to sit down. The truth was that he felt quite sapped, but he didn’t want to show that; he should be a valiant hero soon, after all.

Twilight came nearer and caught the Flutterite in a magical haze. Floating them to the top of the machine, she crowned the structure with the glowing crystals, only adding to its radiance. It truly looked like a piece of art now.

“Personally, I would have chosen bright blue gems,” Rarity said. “But these will do as well, of course.”

Applejack stepped forward and turned to Twilight. “That’s it? We’re done now?”

“Yes.” Twilight Sparkle took a moment to look at all of her friends. “The machine is finished. It’s time to get Fluttershy back.”

But this would perhaps be the hardest part of the whole mission: waiting. Of course, Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer would go into the machine, as they knew the Lord of the Rings books best. The rest of them would have to stay behind, sit down, and hope for the safe return of them all. Twilight Sparkle took Spike and Applejack apart for a few moments, broadly explaining how the machine worked and how they should operate it. Applejack was the most practical of them all, and could follow instructions to the letter, while Spike already knew some things about the inner workings of the machine, as Twilight Sparkle had told him so many things about it when they were together—often to Spike’s annoyance. They entered the same coordinates as the ones which had popped up during the accident, and agreed on a time at which they would pull the lever and teleport themselves back. As long as they would be standing at the right spot at the right time, the machine would teleport them right back to Equestria.

“But Twilight, what if you won’t make it in time?” Applejack said.

Twilight Sparkle threw a sidelong glance at Starlight. They both knew that the machine had just two charges; one for each element of Flutterite. They didn’t know whether the crystals could be recharged or would explode from the strain of the magical energy. They both knew they might have just one chance. “Then… eh…” Twilight bit her lip. “We’ll make it. Don’t worry.”

Deep inside, Twilight felt bad for taking Starlight Glimmer with her. Now she would yet plunge another friend into danger on her accord, and she knew she could never forgive herself if something would happen to her. Nevertheless, Twilight knew that she would perhaps need Starlight’s help, and that it would be unjust to let her wait in sorrow as well, for she cared just as much for Fluttershy as Twilight herself did.

Suddenly, breaking the silence like a thin glass window, Pinkie bounced up and down. “Of course you’ll make it, Twilight. You can do anything!”

Upon seeing Pinkie’s cheerful face, Twilight Sparkle actually smiled.

“I have not the faintest doubt that you will succeed, darling,” Rarity said. “In the meantime, we will make sure that Fluttershy will receive a warm welcome back into her own world.”

Applejack placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “We’ll all stick to the plan, Twi. And it’s a good plan at that, if I say so myself.”

“Hey, if I can survive the Gauntlet of Fire, then you can survive Middle Earth, easy peasy,” Rainbow Dash said, swooping in the air. But when Twilight threw a baffled glance towards her, she realized that she had run her mouth off. “Hehe, oops!”

Before Twilight could ask her questions anyway, Discord stepped between them. “Of course we will succeed—we have me.”

“Now that’s really reassuring,” Spike whispered.

Then there was silence again. Everypony knew that the time had finally come. All the construction had been done, all the preparations had been made. There was no reason to delay the teleportation any longer. Each of them thought of the dangers, and their minds were filled with worry—except Pinkie Pie’s, for she hadn’t run out of optimism yet, however gloomy this goodbye felt to all of them. They all looked at Twilight and Starlight, and Twilight and Starlight looked back. “Goodbye, everypony,” Twilight said. “I hope to see you again.”

“Of course you will, Twilight,” Pinkie said back. She then jumped up, stretched her arms, and locked both Starlight, Twilight, and Discord in a tight embrace. Soon the others joined as well. They became huddled together in a hug that spoke more words of ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ than there were languages in Equestria to say them.

At last, Discord wriggled himself free from the cluster of ponies. With an agile jump and a flap of his wings, he landed on the pedestal beneath the arc. “Beam me up, Twilight,” he said, raising his arms in the air.

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer took one more glance at their friends, before they disappeared behind the computer screens.

There was silence once more, as the rest of the ponies stepped back. They didn’t dare to breathe, as if that would interrupt the teleportation. With eyes filled with hope and fear and concern, they watched Twilight and Starlight fire up the machine.

Once again, a rumble started filling the room, swelling in volume as the machine fired up. Soon the sound of clicking buttons got overwhelmed by the roar of the machine.

Once again, lights started to flash on and off, making the arc shine. With one last pull of a big lever, the teleportation process got initiated, and Twilight and Starlight jumped upon the pedestal next to Discord.

Once again, sparks of colored lightning erupted from the top, and raced up and down the arc in sizzling bolts, blinding everyone careless enough to look at it. Everypony shielded their eyes and flattened their ears against the thundering roar and the crackling lights.

This time, it seemed to go even faster than during the accident. With a tremendous bang as if lightning struck right in their midst, the teleportation was completed. The rumbling decreased until it was nothing more than the sound of a distant thunderclap, muffled by clouds. The lights flashed on and off, until they finally died. The electricity sparked up and disappeared.

Slowly, everypony opened their eyes, and looked at the machine.

There, still standing under the arc, was Discord, who met their gazes with the most baffled one of his own.

For a split second, their hearts sank, as they thought that the teleportation had failed somehow. But then Discord looked to his left, then to his right. With a voice trembling with disbelief and surprise, he said, “Where are Starlight and Twilight? And what am I doing here?”

Naturally, only Discord’s second question remained unanswered.

Chapter nineteen: through the darkness

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Gone.

Fluttershy was gone. She had disappeared into the shadows, together with the Ringwraiths and their terrible king. Fluttershy had called out to Radagast once more, but her voice had been swallowed by the darkness.

Now, Radagast was alone.

He lay on the floor of Dol Guldur’s main hall, shivering, coughing, yelling towards the shadows. No thoughts inhabited his broken mind, only slivers and scraps of memories or realizations swirled like a wild whirlwind in his head. Radagast looked around him but didn’t see anything. He listened but didn’t hear anything. Alone in the darkness he lay, until the sun, watery, grey, soulless, casted its light through the windows above.

Radagast withdrew from the light, as it hurt his eyes. He scuttled to a corner where he lost his consciousness.

His dream was chaotic, lost in a swirl of biting shadow like loose shots of a horror movie. All the while he shivered and his head jerked from side to side. His breath was sputtering out of his mouth as he struggled to stay alive and somehow regain some sanity. A broken mind can hardly dream.

When he woke up Fluttershy was still gone, and Radagast was still alone. He needed to leave Dol Guldur, or stay and fight to reclaim his friend. Both of these tasks seemed like climbing the skies to reach the moon; impossible. He felt as if nothing but sharp nails rattled around in his head, and he was unable to think. But his body seemed to help him. Slowly, inch by inch, Radagast the Brown crawled over the floor, towards the moonlight. The light of the new night stung his eyes and his skin as he reached the end of the chamber, and he had to pause for a long time.

After catching his ragged breath, Radagast reached up, caught hold of a loose rock, and forced himself back to his feet, half stumbling, and leaning heavily on the wall. His head still hurt, and he saw the room in a grey haze before his eyes, amplified by the shadows cast by the moon through the holes in the roof. His body moved. Step by step, tripping, falling, crawling, stumbling, shuffling, he reached the end of the hallway. Of course he had no idea where to go, so he just kept following the light of the moon.

That way, he ended his journey in the courtyard, where the ruins of Dol Guldur surrounded him on all sides. For a second, Radagast thought he saw the Ringwraiths surrounding him once again, with Fluttershy in their midst; their newest recruit. Radagast reached the bridge, caught himself at the handrail, and stumbled along. He almost fell into the abyss as the iron handrail became bent and splintered at one point. Quickly he grasped the new metal, his hands cut and bloodied of the jagged splinters, although he wasn’t at all scared at falling to his death. In his mind, Radagast was already dead.

Through the corrupted Greenwood he stumbled, holding himself upright by the black trees, grabbing withered vines and almost choking on their putrid smell. For many miles he fought himself a way through the dead foliage. He saw no animals, heard no birds, felt nothing grow or rejuvenate; there was only death, and death surrounded him on all sides. The forest was as desolate as Radagast’s spirit.

For days he roamed the plagued forest. Radagast had no idea where he was going, he just went on and on wherever the going was easiest. Hunger tortured his stomach, but there was nothing to eat. No berries, fruits, or mushrooms remained in the dead Greenwood. One day, on a dreary afternoon, Radagast encountered a small ditch of water, from which he drank. The water was black, and tasted bitter on Radagast’s tongue. Still he drank, for the will to survive houses in every creature, and the wizard was not yet dead. His nights were dark and desolate, his dreams short and evil, and Radagast slept as little as he could to prevent his mind from plunging into darkness.

At last, on a dreary and cold morning, when Radagast thought that he would fall down and surrender himself to the carrion crows, he entered the Greenwood—the real Greenwood. He lay on a clearing of dead grass, which regained its green color only yards further where the healthy tree line began once more, red and golden in fresh autumn colors.

Through the haze of his watery eyes, Radagast could see his forest, but he felt too weak almost to just look at it from where he lay. He closed his eyes and slumped against a tree, where he stumbled on the edge of the conscious world. His last thoughts contained distorted pictures of Fluttershy. The little pegasus stood in front of him, her face unreadable. There was no way of knowing whether she was scared, angry, or already consumed by the darkness. Radagast reached out for her. “Please… help me…”

The sight of his forest and of his animal friend would have been the last time he ever saw both of them, were it not for an extraordinary creature.

An elk, strong and sturdy, entered the clearing from the good part of the forest. It was a large stag, looking for a nice place to spend the winter months. Just the day before it had shed its antlers, for it was that time of the year, and it roamed the wilds freely. Maybe it had heard Radagast’s last call, as if some sliver of conscious magic had carried it through the clearing to the elk’s ears. Or maybe the elk just wanted to witness the borders of the Greenwood, which were ever shrinking to the corruption. If the latter was true, he got quite a shock. For a moment he stood still and watched the black trees and the dead shrubs in front of him. He wondered how long it would take for the whole Greenwood to fall under the shadow.

And so, as he watched the corrupted tree line ahead, he spotted Radagast against one of the trees. Instantly, the elk jumped over some shrubs and trotted towards the motionless figure of the wizard. Good memories came back to him, as the elk recognized the man who had healed his eye after a particularly nasty fight with another stag, which had cost him a beautiful hind and also almost his eye.

The elk’s nose came close to Radagast’s mouth, as the animal doubted whether or not the wizard was alive. When he felt a slow and weak airstream against his snout, he knew enough. Without hesitation or shame, he licked the face of Radagast, until he opened his eyes.

“Jonathan?”

The weak voice of Radagast barely reached the elk’s ears, but he heard it nonetheless, and felt quite honored that Radagast had remembered his name, although it had been years ago since they had seen each other. Jonathan bent down and made a few low humming sounds, encouraging the wizard to save himself.

With his last strength, Radagast rolled to the side, threw his leg over the beast’s barrel, and grabbed the elk’s neck, focusing all his fading strength on his arms to keep him steady.

All day long the elk ran through the forest. He knew time was of the essence, for the wizard’s breath had been weak, and sometimes the animal could feel Radagast going limp and his grasp weaken. Jonathan did his best to go as fast as he could, but tried to absorb the shocks with his agile legs to make the wild ride as comfortable for the wizard as possible. He bent his knees and kept his jumps low. Although he wasn’t at all a riding animal, Jonathan reckoned he managed quite well, for Radagast didn’t fall off his back once.

Hoping that his memory did not fail him, Jonathan galloped on and on, dodging branches, jumping over shrubs, occasionally looking back to see if the wizard was still there. When the sun started to set in an orange haze and the grey of the night heralded its coming, Jonathan finally reached a part of the forest he recognized. Big oaks began to flank him on either side, and the plants seems younger and more alive than they had done in other parts of the Greenwood. Jonathan knew he was nearing Rhosgobel.

There it was. After a small cluster of shrubs, the little cabin revealed itself through the trees. With a few jumps, Jonathan crossed the clearing, and stood in front of Radagast’s door. Turning around, he bucked it open, and stormed inside. The elk was quite big, and he knocked over chests and barrels and tables and chairs, but that didn’t matter. He crouched down and let Radagast roll off his back and into the bed. Once again Jonathan checked his breath, and laid an ear on the wizard’s chest. His heart sounded pained.

The elk trotted back outside. He knew he had to get help. Standing in the middle of the clearing, Jonathan drew in a deep breath, and then let out a mighty bellow.

Not even birds could be seen flying up in alarm. Rhosgobel was desolate.

Never before had Jonathan seen the forest so lonely and devoid of creatures. He was an animal of action. Then I will get help myself, he thought. Waiting for the wizard to come to his senses was not an option in his mind, for there was nothing he could do for him anyway. Perhaps he could lure some lonely hunter towards the cabin, who might be able to help Radagast. With that mission in his mind, the elk glanced around once, and then jumped through the foliage further into the forest.

Rest did not come to Radagast. He saw many things in the delusions that clouded his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was to wake up, but the distorted pictures and ragged fragments left him no choice. With quivering arms he sat up, and looked around his cabin.

Once again he was alone in the darkness. Night enveloped Rhosgobel, and Radagast looked around the desolate cabin. The animals had followed his advice, and were by this time almost at the Old Forest Road. No, there was nothing left for Radagast in his house. It looked lifeless without the scuttling and flying of his animal friends. Now it was just a lonely hermit’s house; nothing more.

Hunger forced the wizard towards his kitchen. He was in no state to make anything, so he scrounged together some bread and some cold oatmeal, and devoured those with quick mouthfuls. It was then that utter loneliness struck him like an icy cold wave. He heard no sounds. Not even from the elk, which he only scarcely remembered.

Halfway through his dreary dinner, Radagast’s head slumped down upon the table. Hopelessness gripped him tightly. Radagast knew he couldn’t go back to Dol Guldur, let alone fight the Ringwraiths. He was broken, and he couldn’t even feel the tiniest sliver of magical energy in his body. Radagast the Brown, warden of the Greenwood, protector of animals, had failed his task. The Greenwood was corrupted by an enemy he could not defeat. His animals had fled towards places stronger and with more resources to fight back the shadow. Radagast had no forest to fight for. Radagast had no animals to care for. He had nothing.

But the biggest failure had been Fluttershy. Thanks to his weakness, his foolishness, the little pegasus was now in the cruel hands of the enemy. Radagast’s darkened mind revealed pictures and fears of what the Ringwraiths—what Sauron—would do to her. A shiver crept over his body and didn’t leave him alone. Perhaps they would torture Fluttershy with horrible tools and black magic to break her will. Perhaps they would force her to breed with savage beasts and exploit her flying ability. With a shock, Radagast’s head jerked up. Perhaps they would sweep away all her memories. All of their beautiful and cheerful moments… gone forever!

That was too much for him. An urge to flee grabbed hold of his mind. Flee from his failed task. Flee from his evil thoughts. Flee from himself.

Tears burned in his eyes, as he got up. He had just enough rational thoughts left to grab some food and water. Then he walked out the door, and left Rhosgobel behind without looking back.

Radagast the Brown wandered alone through the Greenwood. He was no longer a wizard, but a tramping vagabond. He would go where people would want him. He would beg to stay alive, or use the woods as his source of food. Perhaps some animals would cross his path, who just might feel pity for him and help him to some berries or share their winter stash with him.

The night drew on and revealed a green day. Sunlight filtered through the canopy and landed in rays on the forest ground, marking a couple of game trails which Radagast followed. He felt like he was reduced to an animal now, living only for the moment, constantly busy with surviving—nothing more. His primal instinct had filled up the gaps in his tattered mind; it was the only thing that drove him forward.

After a while the going became slow, as Radagast found himself climbing a hill. He struggled against the sides of it, but didn’t feel like going around. When he reached the top, some tall pine trees, waving their leaf crowns in the autumn breeze, greeted him. Passing the trunks, there was a small clearing where no trees grew. Had times been different, it could have been a lovely picnic spot. Radagast paused and brought out a flask of water and some bread, to still the worst hunger and thirst. He stayed for an hour or two, catching his breath and gathering some strength. Leaving the landmark behind, he returned to the Greenwood on his lonely journey.

Far above in the reddening sky, the sun said goodbye to Radagast, as it went to rest in the West. Even though the light grew dimmer and dimmer, Radagast trudged on. He would fall asleep once he was tired, and not earlier than that.

Suddenly, the landscape changed like day and night. The green of the forest was swept away, and in its place stood blackened and scorched trees, trying their best to survive on a mixture of earth and old ash. For a moment, Radagast felt his broken heart sink in his boots, as he thought he knew where he was. Was this once more a corrupted part of the forest? It might as well be possible, because in the dim light, Radagast couldn’t quite see the difference between the scars of a forest fire or the corruption of the shadow. Radagast thought he had gone in circles, and was now back in the bad part of the forest.

Nevertheless, he walked on with hesitant steps. Had he gotten some of his magic left, Radagast was sure that he would feel the dead air and the decay in the soil and amongst the roots that remained. But then again, he knew how terrible the shadow was, and he could imagine its influence on this part of the forest even without magic.

He walked on, step by step, as night fell behind him. Thick clouds gathered above, and Radagast threw a quick glance up. It looked as if a storm was brewing, and a stab of memory made his heart bleed, as he reckoned the weather looked just like that first fateful night—or had it been a day?

Radagast could see the edge of this desolate part, where the trees began with full leaf crowns again. They swayed in the breeze, which became a bit stronger. Dust and ash moved with the wind, and followed Radagast in his footsteps. Just a few more steps and he would be back in the Greenwood, where he would at least feel a little bit at home.

The tree line neared, the branches creaked and moved, and then Radagast stopped once more. He saw something moving, but it wasn’t a branch.

A pink-ish hue could be seen between the brown and red leaves. It wasn’t blossom, for it wasn’t summer. Radagast knew what it was—or rather, who it was.

“Fluttershy!” It was the first time he had spoken in days, and his voice felt strange to him.

The pink shape didn’t move.

“Of course!” Now it all made sense to Radagast. He reasoned that he had made a large circle, only to have come out in the corrupted forest around Dol Guldur. Somehow Fluttershy had escaped, and was now roaming the wild and tainted forest in search for Rhosgobel. The fantasy ignited new hope and love, and Radagast found himself running. “Fluttershy! Don’t be afraid! I’m here!”

The pink hue stirred at his ragged outcry, and moved away.

“No! Fluttershy!” Radagast fought through the bushes, throwing branches aside which slapped in his face twice as hard, grabbing tree trunks and pushing himself off them, jumping over shrubs with his last remaining strength, in a mad rush to save his friend.

At last a root stopped him. Radagast tripped over it and fell forward. The momentum of his fall forced him into a roll. He tumbled straight through the foliage, until he came to a halt in a curious clearing.

“Radagast the Brown!”

The voices were high, but not as soft and delicate as Fluttershy’s. The color of one pony was a very light purple—almost pink—but it was her hide, and not her mane that bore it. And instead of one pony, there were two, gazing at the wizard as he scrambled up.

“Radagast the Brown, hello! It is quite an honor to meet you,” Twilight Sparkle said, and bowed politely, soon followed by Starlight Glimmer.

A shock went through the wizard like the lightning bolt that had struck that exact same spot many days ago. Before he could stand up he fell down once more, and crawled backwards, eyes fixed on the two strange mares, until his back banged against a tree.

Everything was right about them: the pastel colored hides, the funny manes and tails, the cutie marks on their flanks, their big eyes with that friendly sparkle in them. But they both weren’t Fluttershy.

Indeed they weren’t. Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle were standing in a small crater, where the ground was blackened and the leaves scorched. There were some burn marks on the trees around as well, and in some places there was still smoke curling on the ground.

The two ponies did a few steps forward, throwing questioning glares at Radagast’s startled face. He looked as if he’d seen a river flowing upwards. For a few seconds Starlight and Twilight stood motionless, gazing at the wizard, each of them comparing his features with the image their minds had conjured up when they read those few lines in The Fellowship of the Ring in which he is mentioned.

He looked more animal than human, as he sat with his back against the tree, his chest heaving and his eyes darting about. He looked like cornered prey, and the two ponies could understand that. They reckoned he had probably never seen Equestrian ponies before. Twilight Sparkle did a careful step forward; the wizard followed her every movement.

“Don’t be afraid, Radagast,” Twilight said. “We are ponies from Equestria. Eh… from another world I mean, and we are looking for somepony.”

Starlight stepped next to her mentor. “Actually, it’s quite nice that we meet you now. Surely you must know every animal in the Greenwood, don’t you?”

The wizard started to tremble. “Fluttershy…” he whispered. Then he said it louder. “Fluttershy!”

His voice broke into a call. “Fluttershy!”

Twilight and Starlight exchanged a startled look. Radagast knew of Fluttershy! Although the news was good, they saw that there was something very wrong with Radagast, and they realized that his rugged appearance was the result of a long and hard journey; not just his regular stature.

Suddenly, before either of the ponies could say something, Radagast collapsed. He lowered his head until it touched the ground, as the desperate face of his abandoned friend crashed into his mind. Tears rained down on his dirty beard. His shoulders twitched through the pain. Thoughts flashed by in the mess which was his head, and he voiced them, now that he finally had someone to talk to.

“You… you came too late, ponies.” He forced his voice to calm down, and to stop croaking despite his thirst. “I know who you are and where you come from.”

“You… you do?” Twilight Sparkle said, inching closer to the wizard.

“Yes…” Somehow, Radagast felt a little better. Seeing the two cheerfully-colored ponies standing in front of him, speaking soft words with the breeze of the wind. He sat a bit straighter. “She was… she was with me for a long time, until… until…”

Now Twilight and Starlight stepped closer until they were standing next to Radagast, as they saw that he had a hard time. Sitting down in front of him, Twilight lifted Radagast’s bearded chin with her hoof. “Are you alright, Radagast?”

Radagast’s breath stuck in his throat as he looked into the deep-purple eyes of Twilight Sparkle. They looked so much like Fluttershy’s, and yet they were totally different. Twilight’s eyes were infinite seas of wisdom and magical radiance, where Fluttershy’s had been skies of friendly birds and care. Even with his mind lying broken at his feet, Radagast could feel some magical energy in the alicorn princess; something familiar yet exotic; something he couldn’t quite place. For a second, there was a connection between the two magicians. Radagast spoke in a low, cracked voice. “My mind… is broken. My staff is taken from me. Oh, ponies, it was so terrible. Fluttershy is… she is captured in Dol Guldur, and it is all my fault!” Radagast averted his eyes and covered his head in his hands. The truth was just too awful for him to bear.

Twilight and Starlight suppressed a small gasp. They both knew what was hidden in Dol Guldur, and they both realized that they had been too late. Sauron was here, in the Greenwood. He had retaken his old fortress and was spreading his dark influence over the land. And Fluttershy was there.

With a few wobbly steps, Twilight Sparkle stepped back. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore, as fear paralyzed her. Everything she had imagined, all the horrible things her mind had thrown at her, were true. The guilty feelings crashed on her and crushed her underneath their terrible weight. Fluttershy was in Dol Guldur, in the hands of the enemy—if she wasn’t already dead.

Starlight felt her stomach drop at Radagast’s words. She stared with wide open eyes at the wizard, who didn’t look back. She too, realized that their hopes might have been in vain; that the building of the machine and rescue mission in Middle Earth might have been in vain. With a trembling voice, she said. “Is she…”

Radagast shook his head. “I don’t know.”

And that was the last they could get out of him, as the wizard slumped down once again. Twilight now sat down on the blackened leaves as well, and didn’t look much better than Radagast. Seeing her this way, Starlight Glimmer forced herself to stay strong. She stood up and walked over to her mentor; she wasn’t sure whether Twilight had heard Radagast’s words. “Twilight, don’t give up! She might still be alive. Radagast said she wasn’t… You know. We can still save her.”

Twilight Sparkle looked up; her eyes sparkled with tears.

“Yes, good!” Starlight Glimmer said. “Let’s find out what happened at Dol Guldur from Radagast, so we can get a better picture and make a plan of action.”

Twilight Sparkle had never been more thankful for her friend’s mental resilience. Starlight’s voice forced her thoughts to collect and helped her gather her wits. Starlight stuck out a hoof, which Twilight took, and stood up. She wiped a tear from her cheek, before she spoke. “I think Radagast is very wounded,” Twilight said. “Magically, I mean. His spirit is very low, and I could feel so little magical energy inside of him. We have to help him—I have to help him.”

Before Starlight could offer any assistance, Twilight Sparkle trotted towards the wizard. At the sound of the alicorn’s hooves, he raised his head once more, and once more he became lost in her magical eyes.

But those eyes weren’t looking at Radagast; those eyes were looking at a flashback—back to Discord. Twilight had paid much attention to the spell Discord used to transfer his power into the Flutterite, as she had found it very interesting. She had seen how he had gathered and organized the magical energy inside of him, and now Twilight did the same. She had seen how Discord had focused a fraction of his powers into his horns, and now Twilight did the same. She had seen how Discord’s horns had touched the rocks to transfer all of the separated energy, and now Twilight did the same. Her horn flashed a healthy purple, as she brought it down and tapped Radagast’s head. A spark connected the two minds for a second, and during that second, they had an insight into each other’s power.

Radagast felt a glow and a clarity inside his head, almost as if a fresh spring breeze whisked away the threatening, thick winter clouds. His eyes began to see more, his mind began to think more. One by one, his senses returned to him. The pulse of the forest, which had left him quite cold and had later vanished altogether, returned. A moment later, Radagast was connected to the Greenwood once more. The warden of the Greenwood was alive.

He could hear himself thinking again. The whirlwind in his head calmed down to a gentle wind, which organized his thoughts and experiences. Strangely enough, he couldn’t remember much after what happened at Dol Guldur. His ears picked up the sound of a flock of crows, and he watched them go far above the clearing. Then he watched the eyes of Twilight Sparkle, who did a step back and watched her magical cure at work.

“Thank you.”

Finally Twilight Sparkle had been able to help someone in need, and she felt good. This little victory was all she needed, and her spirits rose. “Are you ok, Radagast?” she said again. “Your magical energy was so low it scared me.”

“Yes…” Radagast shifted so he sat straighter, and crossed his legs. He tapped the ground in front of him; Twilight and Starlight sat down. “My magic was taken from me. My mind was broken. But I feel better now; I really do.”

Starlight tilted her head. “Taken by whom?”

Suddenly, Radagast lowered his voice, as if the name could make the very grass on which he sat wither. “Sauron.”

Even though the ponies knew, they still couldn’t suppress a gasp

“He has gathered his soldiers, the Nine, and their terrible Witch King. I can see his corruption tainting the Greenwood. But… But I’m afraid I have been too late. You are the friends of Fluttershy, no doubt, but I have lost her at Dol Guldur.”

His head dropped low again. Old grey locks fell in front of his face. Before Twilight or Starlight could say anything, however, he continued on his own.

Radagast began to tell the whole story. From the moment he first saw the little pony alone on this exact same spot, until the events at Dol Guldur, and everything in between. The positive memories brought gentle smiles on his face, and whisked him right back to those merry hours. But as his tale darkened, Radagast’s eyes became troubled. He told about the fortress, about his fight with the Ringwraiths, and about his capture.

All the while the ponies listened, and felt the emotions through his words. They couldn’t believe how lucky they had been for Fluttershy, when she got found by Radagast. Radagast had taken very good care of her, and for that they thanked him from the bottom of their hearts. As the story progressed, and the essence of Sauron became involved, Starlight and Twilight shuddered along, because they knew very well what he was capable of. Maybe they knew those terrible magics the Enemy mastered even better than Radagast, for they had read all of the Lord of the Rings books.

“There’s books about me?” Radagast asked, interrupting his tale. “And there’s books about Middle Earth?” He had heard the word ‘book’ in Fluttershy’s song, of course, but he hadn’t given that word much thought.

Starlight and Twilight exchanged a glance. “Eh… we’ll tell you later,” Twilight said. “Please go on with your story. We have to know what happened with Fluttershy so we can save her.”

To that, the curious gleam disappeared from Radagast’s eyes like glittering water drops falling down. “It is of no use. She is in the hands of the Witch-King and his terrible master. And it is all… it is all my fault. Fluttershy traded herself for me. She sacrificed her life to save mine.” Suddenly it looked as if the magical rejuvenation had somehow worn off. Desperation took an iron bound grip on Radagast’s mind, and he cursed himself for his cowardice. “I can’t believe I just… I just fled the place. There was nothing I could do. Oh! I am just so weak. I’m a terrible friend!”

Twilight Sparkle looked at Radagast, and then the words came to her. She could feel what he felt, as Twilight had often had the feeling that she left Fluttershy to a terrible fate. Trying to find the wizard’s eyes underneath his bushy eyebrows, they met and locked. “Don’t be ashamed, Radagast. Everyone makes mistakes once in a while; small mistakes, big mistakes, or mistakes that are life-threatening.” She averted her gaze to look at Starlight Glimmer for a moment, and then back to Radagast. “A good friend of mine told me that I should keep my head together, and try to find a way to fix my mistake, instead of scolding myself and making myself mad with guilty thoughts. The only way we can apologize to the ones we’ve hurt or lost is to make them better or get them back. The only way to say sorry to Fluttershy is by getting her back.” With a small jump, Twilight Sparkle stood up, and extended her hoof. “We can get her back, Radagast. It doesn’t matter that you gave up on yourself. Because if you can’t do it alone, there are always friends who can help you.”

“I’m sure we can do it together, Radagast,” Starlight added, “but we need your help. We have had our fair share of struggles, but you know the terrain, the location of the fortress, and the nature of our enemy. We have only read about them in the books. We need you. Fluttershy needs you. Together we can get her back.”

Radagast’s trembling hand reached Twilight’s hoof, and she pulled him up. Radagast glanced at the two, seeing their horns, sparkling in the moonlight upon their heads. He reckoned that these two ponies were both powerful wizards, having felt part of Twilight’s magic during the spell she’d performed on him. For the first time in many hopeless days, Radagast felt a crackling spark inside of him. The spark of hope, kindled by the fire of desire and revenge. With a frown speaking of the sudden determination he felt, Radagast looked from one pony to the other. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s get Fluttershy back.”

* *

It had been a long time since Twilight Sparkle had performed a shape-shifting spell, but it seemed to work just fine.

She and Starlight soared through the sky, with Radagast in their midst in the form of a large old hawk. Twilight looked in admiration at the wizard, riding the winds as if it was all he ever did. Compared to her own first moments in the air, Radagast was doing much better than she had done when she received her wings from Princess Celestia. Twilight’s mind was busy finding an explanation for that, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“I have seen millions of hawks flying through the air, Miss Sparkle,” Radagast said, when Twilight asked him about it. “Sometimes it was all I ever did during a day, when there was nothing else for me to do. I have often asked the hawks and other birds about flying, and learned much from their words. But at that time I could never have guessed that such knowledge would come in handy like this.”

To that, despite their grim mission and grimmer destination, the two ponies and the hawk actually laughed.

But above them, the moon didn’t laugh along. Thick clouds, pregnant with a brooding storm, wrapped around the silver orb. In the distance the first flashes of lightning could already be seen; the wind became stronger with every mile the creatures flew. The forest below moaned and sighed underneath the heavy winds. It sounded as if it was in pain. Radagast couldn’t help looking down.

Through his keen hawk eyes, he could see every poor tree, capsuled in dark tendrils of shadow. He could see every patch of open land, corrupted and stained with foul magic. He could hear and feel nothing at all, not even a cry of help, from the dead forest below. He could feel an enormous gap in the fabric of magic; the fabric of life, where once there had been a tight network of magical energy. He knew they were almost at the fortress.

“We are almost there,” Radagast said to Starlight and Twilight.

They both nodded to him. “I can feel it,” Twilight said.

Starlight Glimmer said nothing, for she had to concentrate. It took her a big effort to keep her concentration and fly on. She had caught herself in a magical haze of energy, and flew through the air with her legs stretched out, almost as a pegasus would do it. But sometimes her haze flickered, and she lost a bit of altitude. The vacuum of magic wasn’t just an absence of energy, but it seemed to pull her to the ground like an unseen current. Despite the cold swipes of wind, beads of sweat formed on Starlight’s forehead. She hoped it wouldn’t be far.

It wasn’t far. For the third time, the darkness reluctantly revealed the shapes of Dol Guldur in the distance. The three magical creatures could see and feel its presence.

Starlight and Twilight uttered a cry of amazement and shock, as they saw it too. Standing alone on the hilltop, Dol Guldur was surrounded by a strange, thin mist, and covered by black rainclouds. As they neared, rain started to fall, making the mental picture Starlight and Twilight had had about the place frighteningly complete.

They had reached the fortress. It was time. Silently, the creatures swooped down and landed amidst the cursed trees, just out of the sight of Dol Guldur’s watchtowers and walls. A few grey shrubs offered some cover and a view of what lay ahead, and there they hid. Their plan was stealth. The Ringwraiths might be masters of shadow and deception and hiding, but Fluttershy, as far as they reckoned, was still a pony of flesh and blood. She would probably be locked in the fortress’s dungeons, buried like a treasure deep under the hill. Sneaking inside, quickly and silently, they would find her cell and free her. It sounded so simple, but still they knew that getting past these ghostly figures would require all the skills they had.

“The bridge leads to a courtyard,” Radagast said, as his beak transformed back into a beard-rimmed mouth, and his feathers became once again robes and boots. “From the courtyard there are ways into the main hall, and side passages will probably fan out to all other directions of the fortress. I suggest we keep following stairs down, go as deep as we dare, and then work our way up.”

“Shall we split up?” Starlight said. “That way we can cover more ground.”

Radagast looked at her as if she just asked him to fly without wings. Just the thought of potentially losing another friend made him nauseated. “No,” he said, panic already creeping in his voice. “If we are discovered, we have much more chance of getting out alive if we are together. Perhaps we can drive one of the Nine away if we combine our magic, but a one-on-one confrontation will be disastrous. And besides, they also have a much bigger chance at finding us when we spread out.”

Twilight Sparkle weighed those words. “He’s right. We go together, or not at all. Three can do more against the Ringwraiths than one.”

“You mean four,” Starlight Glimmer said.

Twilight met her gaze, then looked at Radagast. “Four,” she said.

Radagast nodded. “Four. For Fluttershy.”

The time had come. Briefly they had considered flying through the air and landing somewhere inside the fortress, instead of going over the bridge, but that way they would definitely be seen, even by careless eyes. Nothing stands out more against a dark, rainy sky than a lavender alicorn and a light-purple unicorn. No, instead, they decided to cross the bridge, but not without a trick.

As soon as they stepped out of the bushes, Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer’s horns began to glow. An aura of shining magic enveloped them all, before fading to the same grey color as the stones and the sky. They were clad in an invisibility spell. Starlight and Twilight did know that the Ringwraiths also used smell and other senses to find their prey—having read that in the books—so they left nothing revealed. With a small suppression spell, they blocked their scents and hid their magical presence as best as they could. With those two spells combined, they were off the radar.

Nothing happened on the bridge. Not a single shifting shadow could be seen. No shapes hid in unseen places. Beneath the spell, Starlight, Twilight, and Radagast dared to share a hopeful glance. So far, things looked good.

As they shuffled beneath the iron portcullis, Twilight imagined the thing falling down with a rattle, and impaling them underneath the jagged spikes. That didn’t happen. The splattering rain and the howling winds masked every sound they made, and the only thing that rattled was a distant chain.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt flashed and a thunderclap followed it. They all jumped, and the two ponies thought they would lose their concentration for a split second. But like a musician which lost but then found the right note again, Twilight and Starlight quickly grasped the handholds of the spell; it didn’t break. They couldn’t resist, and glanced back at the direction where the boom had come from. Another startled glance was shared, as they could swear it was the same spot where they’d hidden just moments ago.

Through the mist and the rain, they could barely make out the courtyard. A stony circle with some statues surrounded them. In the middle was a small basin, which could have been a fountain in ancient times. Behind them, the half-crumbled wall covered them all in shadow. The mist was so dense that they couldn’t make out which way would be going to the next halls in the fortress, but they had Radagast. In the middle of the courtyard they stopped, and spoke in hushed voices.

“Where do we go, Radagast?” Twilight said.

To that, Radagast had to think for a moment. His mind had been at its worst when he escaped from Dol Guldur, and the direction he took didn’t linger in his mind. Just as he was about to speak, Starlight Glimmer let out a gasp.

Radagast and Twilight looked at her fear-filled eyes, and then followed her gaze. All of them shivered across their whole bodies, as a sudden coldness sneaked up to them. Their short, startled breaths left their mouths in small puffs of smoke, and their hearts froze. They were looking at one of the Nine.

But instead of a cloaked and hooded figure, standing alone with a sword clutched in its hand, there was the figure of a king. He looked down upon them all with stern, harsh eyes, robed in flowing garments as graceful as his long hair. There was a second of cold tension, then Radagast spoke.

“It’s just a statue. Don’t worry.”

Starlight and Twilight let out a small sigh. Despite the cold, a blush appeared on Starlight’s face. How could she be so silly?

The wind began to pick up. The breeze howled against the face of the hill fortress, through the dark spires, around its walls. It bore an even nastier cold; cold as the wind on a lonely graveyard. Twilight and Starlight suddenly felt very uncomfortable. They were still horses, and they could sense when danger was abroad. They both primed their ears, and then noticed that the wind was actually speaking, uttering words in an awful language.

Radagast felt the cold wrapping around his heart, stinging it with frozen needles. The winds dug up memories of the darkest moments in his life. His mind became as gloomy as the thunderclouds above. It was right at that moment that he knew they were expected. He could understand the words in the gales, and soon they manifested into a terrible voice.

“Foolish wizard!”

The words stabbed right through them all. Starlight Glimmer lost her concentration, and when Twilight followed, their spell waned.

The voice came from behind them. They turned around.

“We have let you go and spared your wretched life. Yet you have returned and have disturbed our preparations.”

A sniffing sound mingled with the rush of the winds, coming from their right. “But do you see that?” another voice said from the mist. “He has brought more strange creatures in our midst.”

Twilight and Starlight knew the hidden figures were talking about them, and felt their voices aimed at their hearts.

“So he has,” a new voice said from somewhere in the dark. “I can sense them.”

“Their magic is strong. Oh, so strong! They will serve the master well, just like the first one.”

They were talking about Fluttershy. Twilight Sparkle concentrated, opened her mouth to speak, but found that the words didn’t dare to leave her mouth. She tried again. “We have come for Fluttershy. Where is she!”

Then a collective hiss resounded. They couldn’t make out if it was scolding, cursing, of laughing, but it sounded awful.

“She is in the service of our lord,” one of the Ringwraiths said.

“Yes. It took us quite an effort to break her spirit. She was stronger than she looked. Stronger than she herself thought.”

At those words, Starlight Glimmer could not hold it anymore. Although her rage was tempered by the dreadful cold, her voice was filled with fury. “Show us your faces! Stop hiding in the shadows and the mist. Fight like the kings you once were, you pathetic slaves of Sauron.”

Another hiss like a pit full of deadly snakes filled the air. At once the mist retreated, commanded by the Ringwraiths’ will. At last, Radagast, Twilight Sparkle, and Starlight Glimmer faced the Ringwraiths.

They were still clad in robes made of the darkest shade of black. They did a step forward, closing in on the magicians. Their steel boots rattled on the stone, and the cold gleam of chainmail hauberks peeked through their mantles. Each of them wore a helmet made of silver and steel, but no jewels were set in it. Eight of them stood in a ring around their prey, dressed for battle; only the Witch-King was not yet among them.

They did another step closer. Radagast, Twilight, and Starlight felt like cornered prey, as the enemy surrounded them on all sides. A feeling of dread almost mastered their minds, known all too well by Radagast but new to Starlight and Twilight. With a piercing metal clink, the Ringwraiths drew their swords. They used their most trusted weapon against their enemies: fear and threat. Many enemies had lost their minds just by standing before them. The bravest heroes had gone mad at their presence. They thought it was enough.

But Twilight and Starlight had read about the invisible aura of fear that the Ringwraiths bent to their will, so their minds were prepared.

The Ringwraiths had reached their foes. They all drew back their arms and pointed the tips of their gleaming swords in the direction of the two ponies and the wizard. That’s when Starlight and Twilight sprang into action. They channeled their powers, clinked their horns against each other, and let loose a burst of light. Like an enormous radiant bubble it erupted from their horns, bathing Dol Guldur in a blinding white light. And there it stayed. Like a bubble made of gleaming steel did the magical force field linger. White sparkles mingled with fiery blazes swirled around the three magicians. Twilight and Starlight both knew the weakness of the RIngwraiths, as they had read in The Lord of the Rings. During the fight with the RIngwraiths, both Gandalf and Aragorn had used fire to keep them at bay, and that was exactly what the ponies intended to do. They knew the weakness of their enemy. They knew they had the edge.

To the flash, the Ringwraiths staggered backwards, covering their cruel eyes with their hands. A terrible scream cut through the chilling air. They dissolved into shadows, and disappeared from the courtyard like wisps of black smoke.

Despite the strain of the spell, Twilight opened her eyes and scanned the surroundings. “They’re gone,” she said through the sound of the swirling magic. “The Ringwraiths are gone!”

Indeed, their plan seemed to work, for fire was indeed a great enemy of the Nine. They preferred the cold and the shadows above the warmth and the light. What Twilight and Starlight forgot, however, was that both Aragorn and Gandalf didn’t fight all of the Ringwraiths on Weathertop.

As soon as Twilight Sparkle had spoken those words, shadows began to stir. At first it looked as if the moon shifted and the shadows followed along, but then they gathered and mingled like a black fire. From their bases, as if they emerged from the ground itself, arose once more the Ringwraiths. They stood at a distance, still covering their eyes, and spread out to face the bubble of light.

The three magicians could see them standing, but still their hopes were high. They felt safe in their magical barrier. Twilight Sparkle prepared another burst of energy, ready to lash out if the Ringwraiths would try to get close again.

And that is what they did. In one smooth motion, they drew back their swords and jumped.

Before Twilight could do anything, they were already upon her. She felt eight needles sting her mind, as the Ringwraiths’ swords penetrated the magical bubble. The tips stuck through it like the spikes of an iron maiden. But Twilight and Starlight didn’t give up yet. They doubled their concentration and doubled their effort. Twilight knew that if the force of the magic membrane would be strong enough, she might be able to break the tips off the swords, as a blowtorch would cut through steel. Trying and trying as she did, she couldn’t make that happen.

A darkness began to spread. Like a spider web, black tendrils sprang from the steel of the ghostly blades. They swirled around the orb, waving along with the pulsing magic. Intertwining, merging, covering each other in a thick black web, the bubble slowly fell underneath the assault. Soon the bubble’s light dimmed, until Radagast, Twilight, and Starlight were caught in their own spell, covered by the darkness of the Wraiths’ magic. A deadly cold began to spread in both ponies’ minds. Twilight and Starlight knew they couldn’t uphold the psychic link with their magic much longer. The spell dwindled.

What remained of the light vanished. The Ringwraiths drew their swords back and stepped away from the ponies, content at the breakdown of their enemies’ spell.

The light mingled with darkness fell like a piece of discarded cloth to the ground. When at last all the magic was gone, Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer appeared, panting against the exhaustion which the spell had brought on their minds. Radagast stood behind them, trembling, watching the Ringwraiths without looking in their eyes.

They stood, motionless, like statues frozen in the night. All at once, they turned their swords around, until they held them upside-down, with the points to the stone floor. They did another step back, as if they were disengaging. Instead they made way for their king, who rode from the shadows into their midst.

Radagast could hear the sound of hooves. His eyes peered into the shadows and the darkness, but he couldn’t make out whom they belonged to. Twilight and Starlight too, threw their tired glances into the shadows, but could see nothing.

Then the Ringwraiths unleashed their powers. A sharp hiss went through them, as if they readied their terrible voices for a surge of sound. Their cry was horrible, and shattered stone and iron alike. Like the howling of wolves, it carried an unnamable sense of dread on the single tone. It swept all over the courtyard, until it finally reached the minds of Radagast, Twilight Sparkle, and Starlight Glimmer. Tired as the two ponies were, it was so terribly hard to resist. The black breath invaded their minds, stirred and directed their thoughts to the darkest corners of Middle Earth and Equestria alike. It awoke in them their worst fears, and left a trail of despair behind. They dropped to the ground, and yelled against the dark thoughts. But yelling them away did not work, and the black breath kept playing their thoughts and emotions like a piano clavier.

Radagast wasn’t better off. He had experienced this exact same feeling twice before, but never as intense as this time. He tried to cover his ears, but it didn’t help. He felt as if his brains were going to explode. At once, the guilt, the sorrow, and the worries returned. He wasn’t Radagast the Brown; he was a faceless vagabond, right back in the forest, roaming to nowhere. He had failed his friend and left her to the most horrible fate before the terrible might of the Ringwraiths. He would never see her again, and now he would offer two more ponies to the servants of Sauron. The negative thoughts collected in a spiral, and Radagast’s mind slid down upon it, until it shattered on the cold hard ground. Once again, his mind was broken.

The urge to flee became too big to bear. He crawled away. Away, away, away. Once more he left his friends, as he pulled himself behind a large half-crumbled column, and rested his back against it. There he lay sprawled on the ground, squirming in a pool of darkness.

The wind carried the black breath away into the night, as the Ringwraiths ceased their magic and bowed their heads towards their king. The Witch-King nodded in their direction, and then spurred his mount onward. With a few steps of its mighty legs, it brought the Witch-King close to the two ponies, and he looked down upon them. He drew in a long breath to fuel his cruel words. “More exotic creatures to serve the master. Good.”

The voice of the Witch-King stabbed through the ponies’ brains, interrupting the effects of the black breath to make way for the words. Twilight Sparkle was the first who dared to look up. But as she saw what stood before her, she wished she hadn’t.

The Witch-King was riding a horse out of hell. Long, black legs, which occasionally revealed a stained blotch of yellow, carried a creature out of a pony’s deepest, darkest nightmares. Its long, ragged mane fell half over one eye, set deeply in a big skull. Through the horse’s nostrils came breaths of black smoke, and it blinked its red, unseeing eyes. Grand and strong the beast was, with muscles bulging beneath a charcoal hide. It looked bred for evil deeds, ready to carry its cursed bearer wherever it needed to go, and ready to aid in whatever dark mission its master would execute. Suddenly it let out a terrible, distorted whinny, and opened its wings in a threatening flap. With its wings unfurled, the horse looked twice as big. Where before there had been a cheerful, light, yellow, now there were only feathers as black as crows’, wavering in the stormy winds.

“Do not worry,” the grave voice of Fluttershy’s rider said. “She is in good service now, and will accomplish many great deeds.” The Witch-King reached out an iron-bound claw towards Twilight and Starlight. “Join us in our mission. Your magic will be a powerful addition to my master’s might. He can give you whatever you desire. He can make you powerful like the winged horse. You will conquer, your name will not be forgotten. You will take lands and enslave entire races, and all in the name of the Dark Lord Sauron.”

Suddenly, those dark promises stirred something inside Starlight Glimmer. She herself had been a tyrant once, and she knew very well what a tyrant’s voice sounded like, and what a tyrant’s voice could offer to corrupt the weak-minded. Her face contorted into a scowl. Instead of fighting the dark thoughts that the black breath had cast upon her, like Twilight did, she embraced them. She rode them like a wave of black dreams, recognizing some of them from her past. She jerked her head up, met the Witch-King’s gaze for a second, and then launched a sizzling bolt of blue stinging magic towards the Wraith’s face, right between the eyes.

The Witch-King’s crown flashed in the light, as the bolt hit home. The black horse staggered back and let out a whinny, soon accompanied by its master’s yell. When it calmed down at last, the Witch-King approached the two trembling horses as close as he could, until he loomed over them like a dark mountain. Reaching behind his back, the Witch-King brought out an enormous mace. Its slender hilt rose and rose, and then fanned out into a black, bladed orb, shining silver like the moon in the night. A crystal was embedded in the mace’s head. The weapon almost looked like a dark, poisonous flower, eager to kill.

For a moment the mace hung still in the air, and the Witch King-looked upon his enemies. “Such ungratefulness,” he hissed. “I promised you a future in the Dark Lord’s world. Now… I promise you death.”

But instead of smashing the mace down upon their heads, he turned his horse around with a flick of the reins. His crowned head turned to the left and the right, at his servants. “Finish them off. I have something else to do.” At once, he disappeared in the shadows, leaving only a dark memory behind.

The rest of the Ringwraiths made a bow towards their king. With a thrust of their undead hands, they brought their swords back into fighting position. Slowly, step by step, they advanced on the ponies.

Starlight Glimmer looked at her mentor, who still sat on the ground and swayed her head from side to side, as if she would be falling asleep any minute now. “Twilight! We gotta do something. He has Fluttershy!” But where Starlight’s spirit had been awoken by rage and defiance, Twilight’s spirit was still low. She was still in the abyss in which the black breath had thrown her. Starlight saw that. She didn’t have time. Charging a small jolt of energy, she shot it at Twilight Sparkle in a little flash of light.

The Ringwraiths were not at all taken aback by the little sizzle, barely more than a firecracker, and came ever closer, holding their swords high.

“Twilight!”

The magical bolt startled her at first, which was all she needed to regain her awareness. “Starlight, what—“

But a sword interrupted her words. Just in time, Starlight Glimmer grabbed Twilight and shoved her out of the way while she sprang aside. The sword cut off a piece of Twilight’s tail, which dwindled to the ground and dissolved into cold ash.

Another Ringwraith advanced on the two ponies, and swung its blade at Starlight Glimmer. But Starlight’s mind was quicker. In a flash of magic, she summoned a sword of her own, and parried the Wraith’s blow with a loud clang. A shudder spread like a frozen gale through her body, as the two swords made contact; an extra effect of the Wraith’s cursed blade. For a second, a dark memory revealed itself in Starlight’s head, but she whisked it away as if she closed a door. She knew how to handle her difficult past and self-doubt, and she didn’t let the Wraiths use that against her.

Two more Ringwraiths sprang from the shadows, blades high. The ponies’ horns flashed, and a second later a shield was between the swords and their heads. Once more the remnants of the black breath tried to manifest itself in their bodies as the weapons clanged. It seemed even harder to resist this time.

Suddenly Twilight and Starlight found themselves surrounded again, as some of the Wraiths had creeped through the shadows behind them. Only by the gleam of their swords could the ponies spot them in time, and only by their quick thinking did they save themselves. With another burst of concentration, their horns once again erupted in a flash of roaring magic. But they knew that they couldn’t uphold a barrier for long, as their minds felt brittle. Instead, they let it fly like a pulse of fire, and hoped that Radagast would be out of the way.

The Ringwraiths shrieked as the fire covered them all. Their cloaks and hoods caught the flames, and they fluttered like burning flags in the stormy winds. It was magical fire, which was not at all easily extinguished by wind alone. For a moment, the Ringwraiths looked genuinely distressed, but they quickly reacted. Casting aside their robes, they were now knights in ancient armor, with cruel swords grasped in undead arms. As their fiery cloaks dissolved into ash and cinders, their eyes flared with a light cold and hot at the same time, gazing at their enemies with rekindled hatred.

One of them couldn’t withhold its rage, and charged towards the two horses. As quickly as the Wraith’s mad dash , a counter maneuver popped up in Twilight’s mind. Like Applejack, she turned around and bucked, aiming at the Ringwraith’s belly, in order to kick him away. Instead, Twilight’s hooves connected with its undead hands, and with a cry of rage, it let loose its sword, which bounced and slid across the stones with a nasty grating sound.

But that was all Twilight could do, because she and Starlight had fought themselves in a corner.

The RIngwraiths saw that clearly, and began to reassemble as quickly as they could. Their breaths hissed and their hauberks rattled as they moved closer and closer to the cornered ponies. Their swords were raised high, pointing with steel eyes towards the ponies’ heads.

Starlight and Twilight looked upon their foes. Tiredness from all the spell-casting got them both now, and their minds felt heavy. Starlight looked at her mentor, who was panting heavily, and was already sitting down upon the rocks. “Twilight!” she said, her voice weak with exhaustion. “I… I don’t think we can win this. We have to fly!”

As the ponies spoke, a ripple of hushed whispers went through the Ringwraiths, as if they were congregating with one another.

Twilight’s eyes met Starlight’s. “But… what about Radagast? We can’t leave him here, and I’m not sure if I can transform him into a bird once more. I… I’m not even sure if I can fly.”

“I know, Twilight. I feel terrible too,” Starlight said, while keeping an eye on the Wraiths, who seemed to be standing still now. “But we could at least—“

An explosion of sound interrupted Starlight’s words. In a chorus of unholy shrieks, the Ringwraiths unleashed their black breaths once more. They had heard them speak about flying, and realized that they might just flee. That couldn’t happen. They had to ground the ponies long enough to finish them off.

Behind the column, Radagast winced at the sound and the fear that bore it. Gritting his teeth, he tried his best to resist it, but found his mind too weak. Once again the agony tried to rip him apart. But then the black breath suddenly ended, and a grave silence lay upon Dol Guldur like a heavy blanket. Only the winds roared on.

Radagast forced himself to sit upright. His mind was filled with the most horrible thoughts. It was so silent. Were the ponies dead? Tears started to fill his eyes, as he scrambled to the edge of the stone pillar to peek around the corner.

But just as he did, he heard a snort behind him. Turning around, Radagast witnessed how the shadows grew and grew, until they fanned out of the ground and took the shape of a black rider upon his mount. Even though her appearance was completely transformed, Radagast knew it was Fluttershy. He knew it was his friend.

The Witch-King nudged his horse, and rider and mount closed in on the wizard. In the glimmer of the Witch-King’s mace, Radagast could have one last glimpse at his friend. From the cute little pony was nothing left. Before him stood a great dark war steed, obeying to the will of its rider. As the beast let out another snort, its smoky breath swirled before the wizard, and his heart felt cramped.

“Yes,” the Witch-King said. “Have one last look at your flying horse, and see how we utilized her powers. She is ours now. She is a part of the shadow.”

Radagast looked up, and tried to find those soft, blue eyes again, but what he got were glaring, murderous eyes, ready to see the world burn in Sauron’s fire. He tried to find that funny, awkward smile again, but found only a threatening scowl as the beast looked down upon him. “Fluttershy…” Radagast said. His voice almost sounded like a question, as he couldn’t believe it himself. The fact was too awful for his broken mind to grasp.

“Fluttershy is dead,” the Witch-King said. “Dreadwing is born.”

As if in affirmation with her master’s words, Dreadwing flicked her head up and down, until they met the wizard’s once more.

“No… Fluttershy, please!” Now Radagast wished he didn’t know. He now wished that he didn’t know about the cruel fate that had befallen his animal friend. For the first time in his life, he felt betrayed and deserted. “Fluttershy! It’s me, Radagast! We had so many wonderful days together. You have told me all about your world. We were so close at sending you back to Equestria. Please… resist the darkness.” Radagast knew his words were desperate and hopeless, but some part of him didn’t yet give up. He scuttled to the side and pointed with a finger. Despite the utter despair he felt, Radagast tried his best to sound soft and comforting, just as he had done the day he first found her. “Look, Fluttershy, your friends are here too. We’re all here, and we’re going to take you back to your own world. They have a plan, and once we’re gone from this horrible place, we can live happily ever after; you and me.”

But if Fluttershy was still within that unholy mare, she showed no reaction to Radagast’s words.

“Your attempts are pathetic, wizard,” the Witch-King said. He shifted the mace in his iron claw, and slowly raised it in the air. “Death has come.”

The wizard refused to look at that awful weapon, and instead aimed his gaze right at the black horse. “Fluttershy! I know you’re in there. We are still friends. You have to resist.”

The crystal in the top of the Witch-King’s mace glimmered and shone like the moon itself. The weapon reached its apex.

“Fluttershy, please. Remember how much friendship there was between us. I am your friend.”

A snort came from Dreadwing; a roar of strength from the Witch-King.

The sparkle of the mace caught the attention of Radagast. The wizard saw it one more time, and he gasped. The weapon plunged down into an underhand swing.

But at the sight of the mace’s tip, Radagast felt a burst of strength. At the last second, he hurled his body aside. The mace struck the stone pillar with the sound of a thunderclap. Miraculously enough, the pillar held.

Radagast looked at the shiny stone, captured between iron fangs in the mace’s head. He jumped up, and laid his hand on the stone. Immediately, he felt a familiar surge of power pulsing through his hand, his arm, his head. It felt as if he just realized that he was a wizard again. It was as if he were a soldier who regained his lost sword.

The Witch-King tried to reclaim his mace, but found it stuck in the rocks.

Dreadwing stood uneasily on her hooves. The horse shuffled and wanted to walk away from that bright light, which the wizard reclaimed.

With one last glance at the horse, Radagast placed his other hand upon her nose, stroking her as if he wanted to calm her down. Immediately, a sizzling flow of magic connected to the dark horse, from the stone, through Radagast’s body, where it became filled with happy memories and positive thoughts, and into her body. The horse began to shake its head wildly from side to side, but it stood as if rooted to the ground, and Radagast kept his hand on her nose. For a moment their minds were connected. Then, Radagast received a shock as evil memories streamed from the horse into his own mind. Memories of a dark and fearful time in the Dungeons of Dol Guldur. Memories of a terrible ritual which had been performed. Memories of torture and famine and thirst to break her spirit. Memories of hopelessness, fear, and in the end, evil. Radagast almost let go as he saw the horrible pictures flash by before his mind’s eye. “Oh, Fluttershy…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I will never leave you alone again. You’re safe now.”

Dreadwing’s ears twitched, and turned towards Radagast. Had she heard his soothing words? Or was it Fluttershy who responded?

“Your attempts are futile, wizard,” The Witch-King said. He let go of his mace, grabbed the reins with his hands, and drove his spurs in the belly of his mount. “Go! Trample the fool underneath your mighty hooves!”

Dreadwing gave an angry snort; her gaze pierced Radagast’s. She gave out one last whinny, before she came into action. The giant muscles quivered, as Dreadwing bent down on her forelegs. Then, with a burst of unholy strength, she reared as high as she could, almost tumbling backwards. Her hooves punched the air, as Dreadwing threw off her rider.

With one last agonizing yell, the Witch-King fell on the ground, where he became one with the shadows. His mount was lost.

But could Radagast’s reclaim her? Still Dreadwing hadn’t moved, and faced the wizard once more, staring him down through red eyes. Without a moment of hesitation, Radagast thrust both hands between the sharp iron blades of the mace’s head, and drew out his magical crystal. He sprang to his feet, threw his arms around Dreadwing’s neck, and caught her into a powerful embrace, clutching the crystal tightly in his hand.

Immediately, the magical connection was recast. Radagast felt the horse; the horse felt Radagast. For a moment they were one, united in the web-like structure of flowing magic. The magic of friendship.

Bright lights danced around their magical embrace. Before the wizard’s eyes, Dreadwing began to change. Its hide started to become lighter. First a mottled grey, and then it changed from that to a buttery yellow. Its mane and tail became long and flowing. The horse seemed to shrink smaller and smaller, until it reached the size of a pony. When Radagast felt the silk-soft feathers of her wings again, he dared to let go of his embrace and looked Fluttershy right in the eyes. Soft, caring eyes they were, blue as a calm and radiant sky.

“Twilight, look!” Starlight pointed at the column, which bore a giant hole where the mace had struck it. A flashing light came from it. “I think it’s Radagast!”

Twilight Sparkle looked through the gleam of the swords, and pieced her mind together after another assault of black breath. Then she saw what Starlight meant. She immediately saw that it was no dark magic that created such radiance, and a smile curled her lips. Somehow, she knew that Radagast had done it. And somehow, she was not at all surprised.

But they were still surrounded by murderous Ringwraiths. Just a single stab would be the end for them. Suddenly, Twilight Sparkle felt the hoof of Starlight against her own. She took it and held it tightly. Both of them closed their eyes. There was no strength left to fight back. The only thing they could do was to hope that Fluttershy and Radagast would make it. If they did, their rescue mission would still be a success, no matter if they lived or died.

They could feel the cold breath of the Wraiths against their faces. Death looked at them.

A cold cry shredded the air. Had the two ponies opened their eyes, they could have seen the mist treading back into the courtyard. They could have seen how the Ringwraiths stopped in their tracks and turned their heads towards the source of the shriek. They could have seen how Radagast jumped from behind the pillar, clutching his magical crystal in his hands. They could have seen how a burst of light erupted from the figure of the wizard.

Radagast concentrated on the spell. His mind felt light and clear, and he channeled his powers through the ancient crystal. He felt the power and might flow through his fingertips. He pointed towards the Ringwraiths, and as he did, arrows of light, with leaves as tips, shot through the air. Whenever an arrow struck one of the Ringwraiths, it was reduced to nothing but shadow, and retreated. They were without a master to command them, and a new threat had appeared.

“Keep your eyes closed!” Radagast shouted to the two ponies. But he didn’t need to hold his spell for a long time, for the shadows disappeared.

When Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle opened their eyes, they saw their two friends standing right before them.

“Fluttershy!”

Indeed, there she was. Standing next to Radagast, still rubbing her eyes of the light, was Fluttershy, alive and seemingly well. She looked up at her friends, and trotted towards them. “Twilight! Starlight! Are you ok? Oh, I am so glad to see you. I’m so sorry I brought you into so much trouble.”

With the help of Fluttershy and Radagast, Starlight and Twilight scrambled back on their hooves. “Oh, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, and caught her in an embrace. “I should be the one who is sorry. I’m so sorry I teleported you into Middle Earth.”

Then Starlight joined in. “We’re so glad you’re alive. Thanks to Radagast we were able to save you.”

Radagast smiled awkwardly, as he felt that no credit should be given to him. Then, as if someone opened a door to let the cold in, a freezing cold breeze made him shudder to the bone. Rain fell down upon the ponies, and mingled with their tears of joy. Radagast looked around and at the sky. A lightning bolt flashed. “I think we should go at once,” he said. “The weather is still very bad, and I don’t think we are the only ones here in Dul Guldur. The Ringwraiths are not destroyed; they only retreated.”

Twilight looked over the shoulder of Fluttershy at the wizard. “You’re right, Radagast.” Her eyes suddenly looked troubled, as she realized what he meant. “The battle has been won, but not the war.”

The moment those words left the alicorn princess’s mouth, another thunderclap resounded. It sounded as if it its lightning bolt had struck somewhere up high, as a blinding light erupted from the spires of Dol Guldur. But the sound wasn’t a thunderclap, and the light wasn’t the light of lightning. The thunderclap was a terrible explosion; a summoning. The lightning was the light of fire, cast around a flaming, lidless eye.

Between the spires hovered the eye of Sauron, which looked down upon them all. Instantly, the cold vanished, and a burning, raging ring of fire took its place. They were surrounded by flames. They could do nothing but witness the terrible eye.

“I SEE YOU!”

The air became hotter and hotter. The flames closed in. The trap sprung. Twilight Sparkle saw the fire dancing before her eyes. Sweat beaded off her forehead. Breathing became hard in the hot atmosphere. She had to think of something—fast.

The others looked around, their hearts filled with dread. They all reckoned that jumping through the flames would be madness; they looked hotter than hellfire. Instead, they turned to Twilight.

But Twilight’s mind jammed. All the psychic blows and magical attacks it had been through during the fight against the Ringwraiths had paid a heavy toll. Her mind felt empty and hollow. She looked at all her friend’s eyes, blinking against the heat; hopeful eyes which depended on her. And Twilight Sparkle reckoned that if they would die, it would be her fault. That couldn’t happen. With a voice as dry as paper, Twilight said, “Magic! Magic, everyone.”

She always got inspiration with a good surge of magic flowing through her body, and she hoped that that method of finding ideas would help her now as well.

Immediately, her horn began to glow, as Twilight Sparkle centered herself as the focal point of the magical energy. Starlight Glimmer followed her example, and added her magic to Twilight Sparkle’s. Their horns touched each other; their eyes flared up. Holding the magical crystal between the horns, Radagast tried to tune in on the unicorn magic. To his surprise, it worked. Even though Fluttershy wasn’t magical, she put her head against Radagast’s hands.

Inspiration… inspiration… inspiration… And then Twilight Sparkle thought she got it. If Sauron took the shape of a flaming eye, they had to blind it.

Twilight Sparkle let all the magic flow freely through her body. She felt the powerful unicorn magic from Starlight Glimmer; she felt the nature magic from Radagast the Brown; and she felt her own magic—magic worthy of a princess. The streams converged. Like a rainbow, a multi-colored beam of magic flared out of her horn, and towards the eye of Sauron.

But as it flamed into the eye, nothing happened. The black pupil took the magical energy and devoured it. It was like carrying water to the sea. The beam had no effect on the hateful eye. No, it seemed only to infuriate it.

The air became hotter. Breathing became next to impossible. It was as if they were breathing through a thick cloud of smoke, and it suffocated them all.

“YOU WILL BURN!”

The beam lost some of its strength, as Twilight Sparkle turned to herself and her thoughts, which seemed to boil in her mind. Thinking was almost impossible; only words and ragged sentence fragments came to her.

Eye…

Fire…

Hate… hate… hate…

The opposite is… love…

Love… or friendship…

Friendship!

“Radagast!” Twilight croaked through a bone-dry throat. “The magic of friendship! Use it. You know how!”

“W-w-what?” Radagast wasn’t sure he understood what Twilight meant. He knew of many kinds of magic: elemental, nature, psychic, physical. But friendship? Then, his mind returned to the resurrection of Fluttershy. Had he used the magic of friendship there? Was that what it had been?

But there was no more time for thinking. Radagast tried something, and hoped for the best. He filled the magic with his positive memories, with laughter and warm moments he had shared with Fluttershy. It was then that he realized he had never really felt such warm friendship between him and another creature. Of course, there had been Gandalf, and he had met and befriended many other animals. But Fluttershy… was different. Suddenly, he felt a spark, as his mind connected with Fluttershy’s. He felt her gentle breath, and slowly, the wizard laid his arm upon her shoulder. That was all he needed to do. Their friendship was complete. From another world they came, and they had never seen each other before. Yet out of their souls, their essence, their magic, sprouted a beautiful friendship. A golden friendship.

“Yes!” Twilight Sparkle felt a sudden surge of magic like a flash flood add to the stream she casted. Without so much as tempering or controlling it, she channeled it through her horn, and it struck the eye with an enormous bang. Still, the pupil swallowed the magic, although the eye began to waver.

The wind roared and steered the flames in their direction. The clouds wept. Lightning flashed. Then, it seemed that mother nature chose the side of the ponies and the wizard. A lightning bolt crackled through the sky, and struck the tip of Twilight Sparkle’s horn. The force of the impact was so big that Radagast, Fluttershy, and Starlight Glimmer got blown away, almost through the ring of fire.

But instead of killing her, the lightning became a part of her. Twilight Sparkle already had all the elements of the spell prepared, and the lightning amplified them all a thousand fold. The surge of energy became a part of her. Twilight Sparkle felt as if the energy would rip her apart. She could not constrain such a piece of natural force, so she let it fly. She let everything fly, and let it fly straight towards the eye of Sauron.

Starlight, Fluttershy, and Radagast saw how the energy set the spires of Dol Guldur ablaze. They saw how it pierced straight through the black pupil of the eye. With a voice like a fiery earthquake, the pupil disappeared from the eye.

The ring of fire was doused, almost as if the rain put it out. The ray of light looked broken somehow, and flashed from side to side.

“Fly! Fly, everyone!” Radagast called, and pointed towards the bridge.

Starlight ran, Fluttershy flew along, but Twilight Sparkle finally succumbed to the immense strain of the magical energy, and collapsed. Radagast didn’t hesitate, and picked up the limp alicorn princess.

They all ran over the bridge, and didn’t look back. Only when they had reached the first of the tainted trees in the Greenwood did Radagast dare to look behind. He saw a faint red gleam like a sunrise, but as he watched it, it slowly died. Radagast knew that Sauron was far from defeated, but he knew also that he had gained some very important information. Information that would play a critical role in the rest of the Lord of the Rings books.

But Radagast couldn’t care less about that at the moment. Now they ran. They ran and ran, away from danger and into the woods, with Fluttershy flying in front of them.

Chapter twenty: animal friends forever

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The only thing following them was the grey of dawn.

They trudged on and on through the corrupted forest, never looking back. They went as far as they could, and then rested a while at the edge of a small clearing. Once their strength crawled back into their bodies, Radagast, Twilight Sparkle, and Fluttershy took to the sky.

Radagast was once more an old hawk, flapping his wings in a rhythmic cadence with Fluttershy and Twilight. He flew up front, leading the way towards Rhosgobel, his little cottage in the woods. The morning sun shone behind them, casting a somber light over the forest, covered in morning mist. Radagast tried not to look down more than was necessary, because the sight of the forest made him sad.

Twilight and Starlight didn’t know where they were going. In the book there had only been a vague description of Rhosgobel. But they didn’t really care that much. The more miles that separated them from Dol Guldur, the better.

The weather became more friendly the farther they flew. It looked as if the rage and intensity flew out of the sky now that the battle was over. Clouds started to retreat, the sun dared to look behind them, and the wind became easier and easier to fly on.

And flying they did. They flew on and on, even though they became dead tired. Only once did they pause, but not because of exhaustion. A black cloud seemed to follow them for a while, and when it came closer, the call of the crows could be heard in the morning sky. Fluttershy suddenly dived down into the foliage and urged the others to do the same, her eyes and voice filled with fear. But upon asking her about it, Fluttershy didn’t want to tell why.

When the sun almost reached its apex, they were finally flying over the good part of the Greenwood again. Then, Radagast’s hawk eyes revealed surprise, as he noticed where they were; they were almost at Rhosgobel. There’s just no stopping it, he thought with a shake of his head. Indeed, the shadow of the Dark Lord had grown and festered further and further into the Greenwood, and the sight of it lay heavy on the wizard’s mind. He wondered whether even the elves would be powerful enough to heal the forest.

At last, they saw a brown dot in the middle of a green clearing, looking like a small eye from their height. Flying in circles, the three creatures swooped down and down and down, until they landed in the clearing, its grass still wet with dew.

Radagast dispelled his animal form, and looked around his home. There were still no animals to be seen at the clearing or around the cottage. No birds flew in or out of their houses, no bees zoomed through the air, no rabbits were scurrying around; even the chickens had deserted their pens. Radagast shook his head with a deep sigh. “Let’s go inside.”

Radagast shared some of his food and made some tea for the ponies, which they gratefully accepted. Twilight, Starlight, and Radagast felt dead tired, but strangely enough, it was Fluttershy who fell asleep first. Radagast laid her down upon his bed and hoped that she would have nice dreams.

Then he sat down with Twilight and Starlight. He offered to stay awake in order to keep watch, although Radagast knew that the enemy would probably stay quiet during the day, when black magic would be less potent. But Twilight and Starlight were unable to sleep either, so they all stayed awake. Together, they started discussing many matters—primarily matters concerned with magic. Their talks were grim, and they spoke in hushed voices, and never uttered the name of the Dark Lord out loud.

“I am the warden of the Greenwood,” Radagast said, “and still I am unable to do anything about the foul corruption of dark magic. I feel so incredibly powerless.”

Twilight and Starlight exchanged a glance, as they knew very well what Radagast would do; they had read it in the book, after all. Still, they weren’t sure whether to tell that to Radagast. They were from another world, so interfering with Middle Earth might have big consequences on the fictional world Radagast lived in. Nevertheless, they had to say something. “Well, you saw what happened during our battle,” Twilight Sparkle said, carefully choosing her words. “You’re stronger together. Perhaps you should get some help in defeating the shadow, because facing the Nine and their Dark Lord together is impossible for one wizard.”

Radagast frowned his bristly eyebrows in thought. “Yes… I think you’re right. I will need all the magical help I can get. Perhaps the elves will help me, or… or perhaps the other wizards. Yes! Saruman the White would know what to do.”

To that name, Starlight Glimmer flinched. She knew what would happen with Saruman later on in the story, and what fate lay in store for the wizards. Just when she opened her mouth to speak, Twilight cut her off.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Twilight said, glancing at Starlight with a glare that said, ‘Don’t worry.’

Radagast’s eyes darted about, as a plan filled his head. “I shall go to him at once and inform him on my findings. The White Council has to be assembled and make plans to banish this evil. Surely Saruman the White will know a way, and Gandalf too will undoubtedly have many wise ideas. Maybe together we will be able to lift the curse off the Greenwood. I’m sure we can do that.”

Twilight and Starlight looked at each other uncomfortably, for they knew that the Greenwood would never be the same again. It was a painful decision, but they decided not to tell Radagast about that.

Radagast asked a few more questions to which the two ponies couldn’t give an answer, and then the conversation shifted. It took a more merry turn, as they sliced the subject of Equestria and magic. At first Twilight was reluctant to tell Radagast much about their own world, afraid as she was that it would affect Middle Earth and the story of The Lord of the Rings. But when Radagast kept asking and asking, and she recognized that curious sparkle in his eyes, which she herself often possessed as well, Twilight reckoned that it probably couldn’t hurt, and she told him what he wanted to know. Especially the magic of friendship intrigued the old wizard, as he had gotten a taste of it during their battle. “So your whole world depends on the magic of friendship?” He asked.

Twilight and Starlight nodded. “In essence it does. The elements of harmony create the magic of friendship.”

Radagast closed his eyes in thought and nodded slowly. “Your world sounds like a wonderful place, after everything I’ve heard from it.”

A wonderful world it was indeed. A world where the ponies belonged, and a world to which they would soon return. Twilight and Starlight had agreed with their friends that Applejack and Spike would flick the switch at midnight the next day, and the afternoon was already ripening. Radagast knew this too. He threw a glance at the sleeping Fluttershy. With a sigh he said, “And what a wonderful friend you have. I… I would love to have her around longer. Together we could sing songs and watch sunsets. We could make hikes and care for the animals. We could laugh and cry together, and learn so much from each other. But I understand that without her, your world would not be complete.”

Twilight and Starlight said nothing, but looked the wizard in the eyes.

“And I too, have things to do in my own world,” Radagast said. “Things of grave importance, which will affect the Greenwood, and maybe all of Middle Earth as well.”

To that, the ponies couldn’t do anything but agree.

Radagast sighed once again; a sad smile appeared on his lips. “Funny how similar we are, and yet so different.”

Deep in their hearts, Starlight and Twilight felt sorry for the wizard. They felt sorry to separate such good friends. But they knew that what the wizard said was true. Without the element of kindness, Equestria wouldn’t be complete.

Suddenly, Radagast stood up. “I will wake her up, then we can share one last meal together.”

They had an early dinner. Radagast made some delicious vegetable hotchpot with bread and butter, using up almost every ingredient he had. Despite the incoming goodbye, the conversation was merry, and even without all of the animals, they didn’t feel lonely in each other’s company. Fluttershy sung a few of her favorite songs, and Radagast quickly sprang up and grabbed some quill and ink to write them down. After the songs came riddles, which Starlight Glimmer proved to be especially good at, and they thought and smiled and filled Rhosgobel with merry laughter, whisking away all of the lingering bits of fear they had felt during their horrible battle.

But when the light grew a pale orange and then vanished altogether, when stars peeped through the clouds, they knew the time had come.

Without a word, Radagast shoved his chair aside and began packing up things. Books, food, water, jars with mysterious content, quills, paper, blankets, cooking gear, maps; all things that were necessary on a long journey. “I will walk with you to the clearing where you will depart,” he said as he rummaged through a box. “Then I can protect you if something goes wrong along the way, although I don’t think anything will; the Greenwood has grown silent.” Radagast swallowed hard. “And after your… eh… departure, I will return to Rhosgobel and begin my errand at once.”

To that they agreed, and helped the wizard to find what he needed. In a matter of minutes he was done with his preparations, and walked outside with Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle behind. But Fluttershy didn’t follow immediately. Radagast, Twilight, and Starlight stood upon the clearing, gazing at the little cottage between the trees. Radagast knew that this might be one of the last times he laid eyes upon the place he called home, and a small tear fell on his greying beard.

Just when Radagast was about to walk back in to ask if everything was ok, Fluttershy trotted back outside. She too, glanced one more time at Rhosgobel, then back at the wizard. “Let’s go,” Radagast said, but his voice sounded pained.

They advanced very quickly through the Greenwood. Radagast led them past a gurgling stream for a long time, over its rocky banks where the trees didn’t hinder them. The stars and the moon flickered and twinkled in the clear water, accompanying the peaceful sound with an ever-changing picture. Fluttershy thought that if they would stand still, she would be able to gaze into that stream forever without getting bored.

After following the stream for an hour or two, they plunged back into the forest. They kept to game trails made by the hunting creatures of the forest, which zigzagged between the tree trunks. It offered them a steady footing and they advanced quickly. With the forest quietly rustling at their sides, it felt like a leisurely walk in the bright little woods surrounding the valley in which Ponyville lay. Forever would those forests make Fluttershy remember the beautiful, yet wild Greenwood.

As they walked, they didn’t speak. Not only because they had to watch their step, but also because they were not at all in the mood. Radagast had no idea how to say goodbye to a friend, when he knew he would never see her again; Twilight and Starlight offered him enough silence to do so; and Fluttershy became filled with sadness as she thought of the moment that would soon come. Yet there was also a feeling, deep down inside, of tranquility. She knew she would soon be back in her own world, in her own town, in her own cottage and surrounded by her own animal friends. When she first plunged into the world of Middle Earth there was nothing she wanted more, but now that feeling of homesickness was as weak as a day fly. Yes, she would be back with her friends… but not all of her friends.

Bald Boris the hill lay before them, and they climbed its tree-crowned head. Radagast wanted to tell Fluttershy the name of the hill, to make her laugh one more time. But somehow he felt that now was not the time for jokes, so instead he listened as the trees whispered. Then he turned to Twilight. “How much time do you have left?”

Twilight looked up at the moon, which was steadily climbing to its apex. “Not much.”

“I see…” Radagast let out a sigh. He wanted to have a little break on Bald Boris to have a sandwich. Like an after party he wanted to rekindle the merry glow in their hearts, as the goodbye drew near—it would have been a surprise. When he saw that that wouldn’t happen, he reassigned the food to be an extra supply; perhaps he would need it.

After another patch of dense shrubs, which the wizard parted for them, they came upon the burned-out clearing. The moonlight shone bright through the gnarled and twisted branches. Their footsteps and hoofsteps made small clouds of ash rise, which then settled down silently. Everything was quiet, as if the scorched trees waited for something to happen. Radagast looked around and noticed some new groups of heather growing here and there. Their flowery leaves looked pale in the moonlight. New life, Radagast thought, but how will it stand against the shadow?

They crossed the burned part of the Greenwood, arriving at its green edge. Radagast knew they were close now. It looked as if the trees and the undergrowth made way for them, as they marched on. Suddenly, the trees withdrew, and the strange clearing, twice struck by lightning now, revealed itself. They had reached their destination.

The burned leaves lay scattered on the forest floor, already covered by new ones from the balding trees that surrounded the clearing. Radagast would remember that spot forever. He stood still at the edge of the black, scorched circle. Twilight and Starlight trotted to the center of it. Far above their heads, the moon shone in a cloudless sky. From where they stood, they had a perfect view on it, so they could see when the time would come.

“It’s not long now,” Twilight said, after throwing a glance into the sky. “It’s almost midnight.” But when she lowered her gaze she saw that Fluttershy wasn’t among herself and Starlight, but was standing with Radagast at the edge of the spot instead. Twilight’s expression grew worried. “Fluttershy? Are you coming?”

Fluttershy looked down at the ground, then at the small crater, then at Radagast. “I… eh…” She swallowed. “Yes. I’m coming.” With hesitation in every step, Fluttershy walked over to stand in front of her friends.

Then, a silence fell upon them, as neither of them knew what to say. Starlight Glimmer looked up at the moon, and then nudged Fluttershy. “You should say goodbye, Fluttershy. We don’t have much time left.”

Fluttershy nodded, barely noticeable. She looked down at the ground, and started tracing circles on the fallen leaves. She didn’t look up; not until she would find the right words to say. At last, after some pensive minutes, she said with a voice as soft as a butterfly’s wingbeat, “Radagast…”

“Fluttershy…” answered the voice of the wizard.

Suddenly, her head jerked up. She knew she had to say something. She knew that this would be the last time they would ever see each other, and that was not a time to be shy. Fluttershy breathed in, felt tears well up in her eyes, and spoke. “Radagast… Thank you so much for everything.” But in her mind, she scolded herself for such a weak goodbye. Fluttershy just couldn’t find the right words. In a few moments, she would lose Radagast forever. He would stop to exist in flesh and blood, and only be with her as those few lines in those few paragraphs in The Fellowship of the Ring. It almost felt as if he would be dead. And what do you say to someone who you will lose forever? Fluttershy had no idea.

Radagast had the same feeling. Quite often he had said hopeful words to an animal sick and dying, even though he knew that it would not get better. Quite often he had said words at funerals to comfort the brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews of animals whose lives were shorter than his own. He could always say the right things; the things that would comfort and help the animals in their lives or their deaths. But now, he was as dumbstruck as Fluttershy. As the silence became unbearable, and he felt nervous and anxious, he looked his friend in the eyes and spoke. “Fluttershy, I will miss you. We had such a lovely time together, but know that I will always be in your thoughts, and you will be in mine. We will be friends forever, whatever happens. And… maybe… If Miss Sparkle would approve, we can see each other again… right?” He threw a hopeful glance at Twilight Sparkle, who carefully shook her head, careful enough not to let Fluttershy see it. Radagast had expected as much.

Then, Fluttershy couldn’t hold it anymore. She flung all shyness and awkwardness and uncomfortable feelings aside, and looked the wizard straight in the eyes, although hers were streaked with tears. “I’ll miss you too, Radagast. I will not forget you. You will forever be an element in my heart, and… and… I will write down our adventures, so I won’t forget, and you will exist on more pages with more words.“

Radagast the Brown smiled. Tears fell down his cheeks. “That looks like a wonderful idea to me, Fluttershy. I will do the same, and your songs will forever be remembered by all my animals, and your beautiful voice will forever be remembered by me.”

Another silence. Fluttershy wept; Radagast was barely able to contain his tears himself. Starlight tapped Twilight on the shoulder and pointed upwards. “It is time.”

Wiping the tears away, Radagast tossed his hat towards Fluttershy, where it landed squarely on her head. It wasn’t even too big. “This is goodbye and farewell, Fluttershy. Goodbye and farewell to you, and goodbye and farewell to Miss Twilight Sparkle and Miss Starlight Glimmer too. I cannot thank you enough for your help.”

“Goodbye, Radagast.” Fluttershy’s voice was hoarse with crying. “Goodbye to you and to Alexander and Theodulfus and Malfegor and all your other animals. If you ever see them again, tell them that I said thank you, and that they have taught me to be brave and make difficult decisions.”

“I will tell them,” Radagast said. And now he himself was wondering if he would see his animals again.

Suddenly, Fluttershy felt Twilight Sparkle’s hoof on her back. “Close your eyes, Fluttershy. The teleportation will soon begin.”

She couldn’t have asked for a more difficult thing to do. Fluttershy unfurled her wing and waved at Radagast. Radagast waved back. They both closed their eyes, but still kept waving. They all closed their eyes, and waited for the ride home.

* *

“What do you mean ‘the machine doesn’t work?!’” Discord’s eyes were flaring red as he paced around and stamped his hoof and his foot loud enough for everypony else to hear.

Rainbow Dash looked up from the window. “Jeez, calm down, Discord. That’s just what you’re making of it. For the last time, we don’t know why the machine didn’t teleport you. Do we look like teleportation professors?”

Discord let out a snort and turned around to pace to the other end of the study. He was not in the mood to argue with Rainbow Dash; he would argue with Twilight and Starlight, once they would come back.

If they would come back.

That was the question which lingered in everypony’s mind. The first few hours after the teleportation, they had stood together and talked and talked about what would happen and what could possibly go wrong. Luckily Pinkie Pie had made sure that they remained hopeful as well, with her never-ending optimism. When the hours passed and they had realized there was nothing they could do, each of them tried to find her own way of killing time without leaving the room. Rainbow Dash flied to and fro, Discord did sentry-go, Rarity lay on a comfortable couch she had ordered Spike to carry from her boutique, and Pinkie Pie and Spike were playing chess, while Applejack watched, as she had no idea how to play that game.

But they didn’t leave the room.

All of them felt comfortable while they were together (save Discord), and needed each other for support. Sometimes they had spoken to each other about their travels. They hadn’t left a single detail out as they recounted the adventures they had had in order to get the parts for the teleportation machine. Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Discord had gone first, because Discord insisted. Their tale was surprisingly short, as the Draconequus told with all the pride in his heart how the ponies had made a promise; and he spoke with all the anger in his voice, as he told the ponies exactly how he felt during Starlight’s and Twilight’s ‘betrayal,’ elaborating and elaborating, until they heard it a dozen times. He then started to point fingers and accusing everypony of a sneaky collaboration with Starlight and Twilight, but of course, none of them had helped Starlight or Twilight to carry out that plan in any way.

Next had been Rarity, whose tale was a little longer. She elaborated on the beauty of the Crystal Empire, and the joy she felt at being able to visit the Empire once more. Her meeting with Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor also received much attention, as she told her pony friends that all was well with them. Next came her dealings in the mine, and finding the Flutterite. As she felt a blush trying to spread on her face when she thought of Whistle Tone, she decided to leave him out of the story—but not out of her memory.

Rainbow Dash’s and Spike’s tale had been the longest by far. Everypony became struck with amazement as they recounted all of their adventures, ordeals, and battles in the Dragon Lands. Sometimes Rarity would snort and say, “You’re making this up, Rainbow Dash!” But then Dash would give her an angry stare, and turn to Spike, who would nod his head. Applejack listened with wide-open eyes, as she realized that everything Rainbow Dash told was the truth; she couldn’t spot a single lie.

But now they were all silent, thinking, doing their things to kill time. Rarity had become desperate and was actually reading one of the Lord of the Rings books on the couch.

Time crept by as slowly as it could. Evening came; moonlight shone. But Applejack didn’t need to watch the time, as Rainbow Dash did that for her. Often, when she came back from her flying trip around the castle, Rainbow Dash would fly up to the room and peer outside, her eyes aimed at the moon. Applejack tried to keep it together, and tried to distract herself by watching all of the black and white figurines darting about on the chessboard. She had no idea who was winning. Pinkie Pie looked quite cheerful all the time, so she guessed she was—but then again, Pinkie was almost always cheerful.

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash let out a cry. “A.J., it’s time!”

Applejack jumped up and trotted towards the window, but then remembered that there was also a grandfather clock and threw a glance towards it. Both hands were almost pointing at the top. Twelve o’clock. Midnight.

“Checkmate!” Pinkie Pie yelled.

“Alright, everypony,” Applejack called. “It’s time to fire up the machine. Spike, come with me. The rest of y’all should take cover.”

Rarity jolted awake; the book fell off her face. “Oh, Applejack, do you really need to—“ but then she saw the time, and she recomposed herself. “Oh, excuse me there,” she said, turning to Applejack, who was already standing behind the computer.

The controls looked quite daunting with all their screens, lights, and buttons. But actually it was quite simple, because everything had been pre-programmed. The only things Applejack and Spike needed to do were to check the time and the place, double check them, and then pull the lever.

“And I think that I should be the one who must pull it,” Discord said, slithering up from behind.

Applejack turned her head around. “No way, Discord. Twilight assigned us to do it. No offense towards you, but if she said we must do it, then we’ll do it.”

Discord let out a snort. “Oh, please. You have all broken your promise and betrayed my invaluable trust. The least you can do to make it up to me is giving me a chance to be the hero; to get our friends back to Equestria.”

“No can’t do, Discord. Sorry,” Applejack said, and turned around to face the controls once more. But before she could lay a hoof on the lever, Discord jumped up from behind, and tried to push Applejack aside. Applejack saw him coming in the reflection of the screen and twirled around. Now she was standing on her hind legs, holding Discord off the controls with her front legs. “Come on, Discord! Don’t be so foalish!”

Discord’s arms grasped and grasped, but they only grasped empty air. The two fighting creatures blocked the way, so Spike couldn’t reach the controls himself. Applejack was bent on keeping her promise to Twilight, and didn’t budge. Discord was bent on being at least some kind of hero, and didn’t stop reaching and grasping. Then, the matter became settled, as Applejack swung her tail up, around the lever, and pulled.

“NO!”

With a low, rumbling sound, the machine woke up from its slumber. The remaining shard of Flutterite shone a bright yellow. On and off and on and off it went. With a sizzle, two sparks of electricity sprung from the stone, and started swirling around the metal arch. Faster and faster and faster they raced, popping and crackling with echoes through the study.

Everypony was forced to make a choice between hiding from the sizzling electricity and the roaring sound like a dragon’s cry, or trying to watch through the blinding light for a sign of three ponies. Spike and Applejack jumped behind the computers as quickly as they could. Summoning up a welder’s mask, Discord walked to a corner of the room, sat down, and crossed his arms while not taking his eyes off the machine.

Then, as Twilight had been afraid of, the Flutterite gave way underneath the immense strain of the magical energy, and exploded. An enormous bang added to the chorus of roaring machinery. Shards of stone shot across the room; one landed right in the middle of the chessboard, which Pinkie held in front of her to shield her eyes and take quick peeks. A window shattered. Rainbow Dash heard a whizz and looked at her wing, where a severed feather fell on the ground.

The halo of light, produced by the failing crystal, flashed downwards into an enormous column of light. It went from the top of the arc to the bottom, and touched down on the pedestal, where it stayed as if it supported the machine.

Behind the computers, Spike and Applejack looked at each other. Both gazes betrayed their concern. “This ain’t good!” Applejack shouted above the rumble of the machine. Whether Spike heard her or not, he shook his head. Applejack shuffled towards the controls, stood up, and watched the screens. Many numbers and diagrams flashed by before her eyes, and she couldn’t make much out of it. One screen showed a diagram with a red line, snaking from left to right. At one point, right in the middle, it spiked up. Applejack didn’t need anypony to tell her that that wasn’t good.

The column of light shone brighter and brighter, and to his amazement Discord found that his welder’s mask didn’t even help. Blinking against the light, he summoned three more, and then all was ok again.

The roar swelled to the sound of a hurricane, and everypony, Spike, and Discord covered their ears. Still the rumble became louder and louder. The windows rattled. The floor shook. Applejack swore she could hear the crystal of the castle creak through the incredible noise. “The whole castle is gonna come down!” she yelled to Spike, but Spike couldn’t hear her, lying on the ground with his claws over his ears and his eyes shut. Applejack had to do something. If the whole castle would collapse, they would be buried alive—all of them.

Or she could turn off the machine.

The thought hadn’t come up in Applejack’s mind, but as the machine kept roaring and shaking, it wrestled itself to the front of her mind. Save three friends, or save five?

She felt herself looking at the big, red kill switch. She felt her hoof leaving her ear and creeping towards it. Slowly, slowly. She knew she would never forgive herself. Maybe her friends would never forgive her too.

But there was no other way.

In Applejack’s mind, two wild animals were fighting for control. The two wolves of doubt. She felt a headache coming up, and it wasn’t because of the sound.

A crack appeared in the wall opposite of Applejack. She watched it go towards the roof; pieces of crystal came off the wall and rained down in a purple dust.

At last, one of the wolves won. Applejack made a decision. She hoped her friends would understand.

“Here goes nothing…”

With one last wave of sound, the pillar of light flung its residual energy across the room. Just as during the accident, everything flew everywhere. Tables flipped, books flew like bouncing balls all across the room, bookcases fell down. Everypony got hold of something that was nailed down; some got flung away nonetheless.

From the machine, a torrent of red and golden autumn leaves erupted from the pedestal. In a split second, Twilight Sparkle’s study looked like a forest without trees. Then, everything went silent.

For a moment, there was no sound to be heard. Everypony’s ears ringed. Only Discord, who had quickly teleported himself away from the machine, returned in a small cloud of magic. He was the first to see the result of the precarious teleportation, and he was the first to say,

“Fluttershy!”

Without waiting for the machine to cool down, without waiting for anypony to get their bearings again, Discord rushed to the pedestal, picked up Fluttershy, and hugged her as tightly as he could.

Fluttershy thought she saw the room spinning, which was true, because Discord twirled around with joy. “Fluttershy, you’re back! Oh, I knew you could do it, even without my help. Mission accomplished!”

Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer recovered quickly from the interdimensional trip. They had some experience, after all, so a quick shake of the head was enough to gather their wits again. Twilight Sparkle jumped from the pedestal and behind the computer to start the cool down sequence. As she looked upon the energy level screen, her eyes tripled in size and she let out a cry. “What?!”

“Eh, Twilight?” came Starlight Glimmer’s voice from the other side of the machine. “I think something went wrong.”

Twilight turned her head and saw how her study was in complete disarray for the second time. “Oh my!” With one jump and a flap of her wings, she was over the pedestal and stood next to Starlight. “Where are the others? We have to find them!”

Starlight nodded and began combing out the study for the rest of her friends. Twilight followed suit, but not before glancing at the machine for a second. When she saw the vacant socket and the crystal shards protruding from them, she knew enough. “Oh my!”

While Discord kept petting and stroking Fluttershy as if she were his long lost puppy which had finally found its way home, Twilight and Starlight reassembled their friends. They were a little better off than the first time. Only Applejack and Spike were quite battered and shaken, as they were the ones who had stood closest to the machine. Pinkie looked fine, Rarity’s mane was once again ruined, and Rainbow Dash said she was ok too, and almost seemed insulted when Twilight asked her if she was hurt. But then she realized who was talking to her. “Twilight! You’re back!”

“Indeed I am,” Twilight said with a smile. “Now we’re all complete again.”

Rainbow Dash’s rose eyes twinkled. “You mean you…”

Twilight closed her eyes and nodded. “Mission accomplished.”

When everypony heard that, they all went back to Twilight’s study, to find Discord and Fluttershy together, with Fluttershy already telling Discord about her adventures.

“Hey! Wait up!” Rainbow Dash yelled with a smile. “We want to know what happened too!”

At the sound of Rainbow’s voice and many hooves cantering on the floor, Discord’s head jerked up. Suddenly, he forgot all about Fluttershy for a moment, shot through the room, and grabbed Twilight and Starlight in his claws. “Excuse us for a moment, I want to know what happened too,” he hissed towards the others, before flying to the other corner of the study. He put both ponies down, put his claws to his hips, and gave them the angriest stare he could paint on his face. His cheeks turned red with rage, and steam literally whistled out of his ears like an old cartoon character.

Starlight and Twilight exchanged a glance. Are you going to tell it, or shall I tell it? they both thought. In the end, it had been Twilight’s plan, so she felt obliged to tell it. After a quick swallow, trying not to look in the enraged eyes of Discord, she said, “We can explain…”

“Well, start explaining,” Discord snapped.

“We… eh…” How do I say this nicely, Twilight thought. “I… eh…”

Discord folded his arms and raised a bristly eyebrow. “Come on, say it, don’t be shy.” His voice was nice, but bore a heavy threat.

“I… well…”

“Spit it out, Twilight Sparkle!”

“I calibrated the machine so it would only recognize pony DNA so that it would only teleport Starlight and me,” Twilight blurted out. There was no use in hiding it anyway, and Discord wanted an explanation—quickly.

Discord began to tremble over his whole body. He looked like he might explode just like the teleporter, but with an energy level twice as high as the machine. He gritted his teeth against each other; Twilight thought he would grind them to pulp. Bringing his claws together, threading and unthreading them, screaming in his head, Discord didn’t hear the sound of soft hoofsteps on the floor. He didn’t hear the flap of tiny, delicate wings. He didn’t hear the silky soft voice whisper in his ear. Only when Fluttershy tapped him on the shoulder did the enraged draconequus turn around.

“Please don’t be angry, Discord,” Fluttershy said.

To the sight of his closest friend, Discord let a small steam cloud of rage slip through his mind, but he looked far from calm.

Fluttershy didn’t give up. “I don’t really know what happened here between you, Twilight, and Starlight, but it can’t be that bad now, can it? Why don’t you just calm down and count to twenty. I’m sure there is no reason at all to be angry.”

Discord couldn’t refuse to that lovely, soothing voice. As he was counting, Fluttershy quickly flew over to the rest of her friends to ask them what had happened. Applejack told her.

“Oh my!” The way Fluttershy saw it, Discord actually had all the right to be angry. Starlight and Twilight had broken promises that Applejack and Pinkie Pie had made. This one would be quite complicated to solve.

“Fifteen, sixteen…”

She had to come up with something quickly. Frowning in thought, a solution shot into her mind.

“Eighteen, nineteen...”

Before Discord got to ‘twenty,’ Fluttershy was back and got his attention. Goodness knows what would have happened if Discord would have turned to Starlight and Twilight again. Fluttershy was the only barrier between the bull and the red flag. “Discord, look at me. I have heard the whole story, and I understand that you are very angry. But you have to let it go. Anger is such a waste of energy, which you could spend on other things. Why don’t you spend your energy on your ears, so you can listen to my story about the things that happened in Middle Earth?”

“But… but…” Discord looked much more soothed now; Fluttershy always knew how to handle the draconequus’s tantrums. He pouted his lips as if he were about to cry. “But… they broke their promise.”

“Indeed they did,” Fluttershy said. “And for that, they are very sorry. But is that promise really so important?”

“I… well…” Discord’s mind took in the words and weighed them. Then, with a sigh, he realized that Fluttershy was right; the promise was perhaps not so important as he thought. With another sigh, he admitted his defeat. “I guess you’re right, Fluttershy. You know, it doesn’t really matter that I couldn’t be the hero; I could be the hero in your next adventure, right?”

Fluttershy looked at Starlight and Twilight below, who looked at each other and then shook their heads. “Eh… maybe,” Fluttershy said.

But Discord wasn’t even listening to her answer. He grabbed hold of Fluttershy and pulled her close into a tight embrace. “It doesn’t matter, Fluttershy. The only thing that matters is that you are back, alive and well.”

Everypony else heard the draconequus’s words, and they all gathered around and laughed, as Discord took the words right out of their mouths.

Animal Friends

by Elkia Deerling

Chapter one: a horse with wings

Chapter two: missing in action

Chapter three: the silence after the storm

Chapter four: how come?

Chapter five: the council of ponies

Chapter six: planning and building

Chapter seven: dragons? Danger? Adventure?

Chapter eight: teleportation revelation

Chapter nine: the ponies of the mine, mine, mine

Chapter ten: Garble, Garble, and executioner

Chapter eleven: the darkness spreads

Chapter twelve: showstopper

Chapter thirteen: the Dragon Games

Chapter fourteen: prisoners of war

Chapter fifteen: stories in the dark

Chapter sixteen: pieces of the puzzle

Chapter seventeen: the Dragon-Lord’s command

Chapter eighteen: it’s not the journey; it’s the destination

Chapter nineteen: through the darkness

Chapter twenty: animal friends forever

Epilogue: paper