Lyra and the Little People

by Not_A_Hat

Rating: everyone
Tags: Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Bon-Bon, Adventure
Length: 6401

Lyra tells Bon-Bon about her time in the halls of the Faery King.

Lyra tells Bon-Bon about learning to play the harp, and being foalnapped by faeries.

Special thanks to The11thWonder for proofreading!
Inspired by the works of Herminie Kavanagh.
Cover made in Blender.

Published 2014-03-17 22:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-17 22:00:01 UTC

In the Halls of the Faery King

Well, I met her at a Canterlot party. You know how it is; maybe you're feeling melancholy, a bit sour, so you hit the town, skip from one place to another, and a door opens up for you. A glimpse of light and laughter leaks out, and maybe you slip in. Sometimes they let you, or maybe you don't have the right connections. No-one seemed to notice me this time.

It was a thing for musicians, going from cutie-marks. There were small groups standing all around, talking quietly. It was pleasantly calm, and I needed a bit of that.

I even recognized a few ponies. DJ-PON3 was talking to a very demure gray cellist, and I think I saw the drummer from Spinal Clop. I mingled a bit, but they were all talking shop; half-notes and glissando, bass-clef and delay. I didn't understand half of it, and the rest was deadly dull. There's a reason I stick to sweets; you don't need words longer than your tail to talk about them.

I was headed for the door, fully intending to find another gig to crash, or maybe even head home and have a nice cry, when a wave moved through the crowd. Everypony went quiet, and turned towards a stage in the corner, so small I hadn't even noticed it. Well, of course they have music! I thought. I sat down at the bar and waved for another drink.

The room went totally still as a mint-green unicorn set up. She was nervous at first, her sunglow eyes darting around the room. She kept adjusting her mane, its white stripe flickering in the dim light, and uncased a slender golden harp.

She took a few moments to test the strings, making sure that each sounded just right, before taking a deep breath and launching into her piece.

The last thing I remember thinking is She's kinda cute. Then the song rose like evening mist and drew me away. I'd heard music before, yeah, but her performance was different. It had none of the driving beats I thought I liked, or the rough vocals I listened for. Its beauty was in simplicity. It was just strings; she didn't sing or even hum accompaniment. One tone shimmered at a time. Rarely, she played a chord, but mostly it was just...notes. One after another.

Somehow, the ephemeral combinations she carefully built called deeply to my emotions.Through the lens of music I saw starlit skies, foggy autumn mornings, water running over pebbles. She conjured each scene so clearly that without knowing better, I'd have thought she was working more spell than song. But no; her eyes were shut tight. Through simple skill she pulled magic out of that instrument. Each trill and run brought a clear joy that fuzzed my surroundings and sent me down lanes of happy memory.

The music was sweet, but with just a taste of bitterness; Instead of spoiling the mood, it drew it out. Like a pinch of salt in chocolate, you know? The sorrow highlighted and accented its beauty. I think I sat frozen for a good two minutes after the end, mouth hanging open, notes dancing in my head. The musicians tapped quietly on whatever was nearby; professional applause. It barely penetrated my fugue.

I eventually surfaced. My glass was empty, but I didn't remember the taste. I payed up and walked out, thinking a bit of air might clear my head. Outside, I leaned against the wall and drew in long, slow breaths of crisp, cold Canterlot night, trying to push some of the feelings back down. I didn't need this now; I didn't want this now. Too bad thinking doesn't work on feelings.

"That...was really something." I mumbled.

"You liked it?" A voice asked in the darkness, honest curiosity tinged with a hint of... apprehension? I turned, and found myself face-to-face with the mint-green harpist.

"Yeah...yeah, I did." It was the truth, too. I'd loved it. That was part of the problem. "It was really something. Where did you learn to play like that?" I wasn't really curious, just trying to be polite, but my question pierced her; she deflated with a sigh, losing all her energy.

"I took lessons," she said mechanically.

"What?" Her reaction confused me, but so did mine. What was I doing? I didn't need to be spending time with this...friendly, skilled, beautiful mare right now. My feelings were tangled enough! She mumbled and turned away, clearly unwilling to answer.

At her obvious hurt, my troubled heart overflowed. My worries suddenly seemed very small and silly indeed. You know what? Buck it! I yelled at myself, throwing caution to the wind. Enough! I'm done holding onto this, this STUPIDITY. I'm done being sour and angry; it's making me somepony I don't want to be! I'm over it! I'm over HIM. I'm going to spend some time with this mare, and I'm going to enjoy every minute I can!

"Wait, stop!" I exclaimed, surprising myself and catching her just before she walked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you! It's just, your music is really good! And I'm not even a musician, I just wanted to talk to you a little; I think you're great...a great artist!" I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Look, let me make it up to you; I'll buy you a drink, and we can talk about...I dunno, candy or something."

"Candy?"

"Yeah!" I warmed to the subject, gestured to my cutie mark. "I'm a confectioner. I was party-hopping, and they let me in just before your song." I produced an emergency chocolate, and waved it. "Here, try one. I'm Sweetie Drops, but everyone calls me Bon-Bon, after these." I pushed it towards her. "Go on, give it a try!"

She wrapped the candy in her aura—a bright gold color, like her lyre— and shuffled it out of the paper. She bit it, and I smiled as her eyes widened. It was an unexpectedly complex flavor. I made them with coconut, sweet, but not overly so, with a half-dozen subtler notes. They were my specialty.

"...This is really good,” she mumbled.

"I know, right?" I ushered her back into the club as she munched on the treat. "It's the almond milk. It's hard to get right, but it adds a richness to the filling. Here, sit down! I'll get drinks. I just realized, I don't know your name. I think they said it before your song, but I didn't catch it."

"I'm Lyra Heartstrings, but I go by Lyra." She was looking distinctly more upbeat, and I winked cheerfully as I headed for the bar.

"...and I haven't heard from him since!"

"What a jerk!"

"I know, right?" I drained the last drops of my drink, and fuzzily tried to count the number of glasses on the table. I got to six, couldn't tell if I was seeing double, and gave up. I slumped with a sigh, dropping my head to my hooves. "Sorry for dumping my troubles on you like this, Lyra. I hardly know you, and I'm telling you everything bothering me for the last few months. I guess sometimes it's easier to tell a stranger, you know? You don't deserve this! Just, your music made me feel happy for the first time in, in weeks. I didn't even want to feel happy." I laughed easily, but still heard bitterness. "Some way to repay you, huh?"

"Nah, it's fine." Lyra waved my worries away. She was nothing if not easygoing, it seemed. "You saying that, about my music, makes me really happy. And this, gossip, mare talk, is exactly what I've needed. I just moved here, hoping to make it on the Canterlot scene, and I've been missing this sort of frivolity." She sipped her drink. "Is it really easier?"

"Huh?"

"To tell a stranger. Is it really easier?"

"Well, I think so. For me it is. Honestly? There's a good chance I'll never see most of the ponies in this room again. If I got up on the table and danced, what difference would it make? They would laugh, I might get thrown out, but in the long run? Nothing! It doesn't matter!"

"Do you still want to hear how I learned to play? I'm warning you, it's not...normal. You'll probably think me crazy. It's how I got my cutie mark."

I mulled it over. I'd only been half-serious, but now my interest was piqued. Cutie mark stories were...not taboo, but usually shared with close friends, not somepony met over drinks in a bar. Even a high-class musician bar.

"Yeah. Yes, I do want to hear it. I can't promise to believe you, but hey; if it helps, I can promise not to laugh?"

"No, it's fine. Whatever you think, let it out! I'm doing this, so I'm going all the way! It doesn't bother me!"

From the way she'd reacted earlier I guessed it wasn't that simple, but I let it slide. We got another round of drinks and settled in.

"First off, have you ever heard stories of...humans?" Lyra asked

"Yeah." I nodded. "My granny sent me to sleep with old mare tales. Tiny faeries, no higher than your fetlock? Love to steal things?"

"That's them," Lyra's eyes took on a distant look. Her voice became more formal, and she assumed the air she'd had on stage, like she was performing. "There are a few things you should know about humans...

First, is their magic. They're immensely strong, quick, smart, and powerful, but only at night! Celestia's power cuts theirs fiercely, and during the day, they're harmless as foals. They fear direct sunlight most of all, for if it touches them, they burn away like mist.

Second, they love to drink, lie, sing, dance, and steal anything not nailed down. Liquor, honey, bread and butter they'll filch in a heartbeat, but what they love most is a musical instrument! Although they dearly love music, everypony knows that an instrument created by magic will never sound true. Not even they can manage that. They could learn the craft, but they're fearfully lazy and can't be bothered to build what they can steal.

I didn't know any of this then, of course. I was just a filly. I didn't even have my cutie mark! I had just bought my first instrument. It was the most beautiful violin, all glowing brown wood and gleaming silver strings. Looking back, it was honestly mediocre, but I spent all I had on it, and I loved it above all things. I took it everywhere, and played obsessively, scraping out tune after tune. I would often walk in the woods, where my squealing and caterwauling wouldn't bother anypony, and stay late into the evening. With practice, I slowly improved.

Once, I went farther than usual. I was in fine form that day. My dear violin was singing sweetly to me, and I lost track of time. Eventually dusk fell, and I noticed I was hungry, thirsty, and late. Returning, I stopped at a stream for a drink, laying my precious fiddle on a nearby rock.

I've never been certain what alerted me, but for some reason I paused and looked up. The sun was on the horizon, and dim twilight washed the meadow. Suddenly, a tiny figure flashed out of the woods and swiped my instrument, nearly faster than I could see! He was silent and swift as you please, and if I hadn't been looking, I'd never have noticed.

I stood, hooves in the stream, mouth open, frozen in shock for several seconds. My first feeling of surprise gave way to fear; something strange had just taken my fiddle. That quickly gave way to anger. Something had just taken my precious fiddle! I stomped over and sniffed around. Nothing. As I searched, looking for I don't know what, I heard it, and froze.

My fiddle.

It was faint, but I'd know that tone anywhere. The high strings squeaked, the low strings squealed, and the bow sawed in the middle. It was faint, but I could hear it! I set off immediately, consumed with recovering my instrument. It was a bright evening, and some sunlight still filtered over the horizon. I don't know how far I walked; it seemed quite long, but the sun still wasn't quite set when I stumbled on the Faeries' Ballroom. It was in a meadow, atop a small hill.

Their party, as usual, was in a circle of toadstools. Behind them was a dolmen, a set of standing stones; I'm sure you've seen the type, twice as tall as a pony, arranged like a door? Not every dolmen, but some few really are doorways. They open to the realm of the humans, and this one stood ever so slightly ajar; just a crack of light seeped through, By that and the twilight, I saw the Good People dancing on the short-cut turf. Oh, they were beautiful! They wore bright clothes, as fine as anything you've seen! They twirled and spun, all moving together; even now, I'm reminded of a field of living flowers.

Standing on a toadstool above the whole thing was the finest of them all. He was tiny, no higher than my fetlock, with a mane brown as a sparrow's wing. He wore a fine green coat and a tiny green stovepipe hat, no larger than the tip of my horn, and he was playing my fiddle faster and freer than I ever had! He had shrunk it by magic; he can do most anything he sets his mind to at night, and he was leading the whole party!

"My fiddle!" I exclaimed, foolishly stepping out of the undergrowth and surprising the whole Court. If I'd known what I do now, I'd have turned away and left them to it; meddling with faeries isn't smart, even if they provoke you.

I was lucky the sun wasn't quite gone, or they might have turned me to stone, or magicked me into a toadstool to join their ring; but the last few rays of sunlight protected me. Though they were shocked and surprised, all they did was scatter. Most of them gulped in a great gasp and simply vanished from sight. As long as they can hold their breath, they're completely invisible.

The fiddler however, I locked my eyes on. Though I didn't know it, if you have one in your sight and don't waver, he can't lie or run from you, no matter how hard he tries. Tricking you, though...oh, nothing can stop a human from tricking you. Well, he stood there, bold as brass, and pointed the fiddle bow at me.

"Oh, and who might you be, filly?" He asked calmly, his melodious voice piping up from the faery ring. "And how could such a big one as you play a fiddle small as this?"

"I don't know what you've done to it, but it is mine!" I protested, with a filly's naivety. "You stole it from me earlier!" He just smiled smugly back at me, but I was struck with inspiration. "Look, I even strung the bow from my tail!" Sure enough, the fiddle-bow was strung with green, run through with a hint of white. His expression soured at that, for catching a human in a lie is a horrible blow to their pride.

"Take it then, if it means that much to you!" He tossed the fiddle into the air, and zipped towards the door in the dolmen. I darted forward, thinking to catch my precious instrument before it hit the ground. It's a good thing I kept my eye on it, for as it reached the top if its arch, the last light of the sun hit it, and I saw it for what it was.

The tricky fairy had stolen my fiddle, and glamored a bundle of twigs and leaves to take its place! A second later, and the door would have closed tight, and I'd have gone home empty-hoofed!

As it was, I saw what he'd done at the last moment, and dove for the door, grabbing it with my weak aura and forcing it open just enough to get a hoof through. That hoof was followed by a nose, and the nose by the rest of me! In a second I was standing in the hall of the Good People and staring around, wide-mouthed and dazzled with splendor!

They had re-started the party the moment the fiddler had come through the doors, and they were dancing and jigging away again, as merry as you please! Their hall, bigger and even more gorgeous than the one used for the Gala, was decked in red, gold, satin and velvet; it was lit bright as day by lamps that hung in the air, and music and festivity filled the whole place.

That's not what surprised me most, though. What shocked and stopped me dead was the fact that the faeries were now bigger than I was! Before, they barely came up to my fetlock, but now I was smaller than them; I hardly reached their knees! I'd thought them beautiful when they were small; now I found them twice so, and rather intimidating as well. But I was always a stubborn one, and I wasn't about to be put off, even by such a surprise.

“Give! Me! Back! My FIDDLE!” I wailed, putting every ounce of wounded filly quaver I could into my voice. The party came crashing to a halt again, and every single human turned to look at me, surprise and shock evident on their faces. The fiddler stopped his song, and stepped down from the stage across the room. The crowd parted for him, and I could see how much grander than the rest he was, even to wearing a piece of gold on his brow.

“By my blood and bones, young one! This is unexpected!" He slowly made his way across the room, a wicked twinkle in his eye and a mischievous spring in his step. "Let me introduce myself; I'm Brian Connors, king of all Fae! And who might you be, miss, who's not afraid to enter a dolmen after sundown?"

"I'm Lyra Heartstrings!" I was getting rather more worried by the minute, and feeling rather hysterical. "And I want my FIDDLE!" I sniffled a little, fit to burst into tears.

"Now now, none o' that!" He cautioned quickly, trying to calm me. He handed the instrument over without another word. "Give us a tune, then, and we'll see!" He smirked rather cruelly, although I didn't notice at the time. You see, he was trying to make fun of me; it was unsporting for a human to harm a foal, but that's no reason I couldn't make myself look foolish.

But I was relieved, and sniffed back my tears. I started out uncertainly, but as I heard the familiar sound of my fiddle, I soon felt more confident. The humans didn't think much of me at first, but as I warmed up and thought back to Brian's reel, I was reminded of a piece I'd been composing for nearly a week. I hadn't named it; to me, it was the feeling of watching sunlight through wind-blown leaves. That's the first piece I played in the Hall of the Faery King.

Oh, it was a hit! As I swung into the music, I lost my fear. The humans smiled at first, then tapped their feet, and then slowly returned to their dance. Soon they were all swirling and twirling with abandon, directed hither and yon by MY playing!

At that moment, I truly felt the joy of performance; not just the happiness of sharing, but the true, pure bliss of holding gems I'd labored over up to the light, and watching the dancers reflect them back in stronger and purer forms. It was a feeling I'd never felt before, and it filled my filly heart up to bursting. I played stronger and truer than I'd ever done simply entertaining myself.

“Lyra Hearstrings!” The dancers roared at the end. They stomped their feet, clapped their hands, and bowed to me, treating me like royalty, for those the humans adore are those quickest with a tune, a laugh, and a joke, fiercest in battle and wit, and their favor is easily given and easily taken away. I wasn't sure what to make of all this; I'd never been applauded before. Brian Connors though, proved his standing with them; he laughed the longest, clapped the loudest, and danced the merriest.

"Lyra my dear," he said, and this time his smile was bright, "I see I misjudged you! Sure, an' you're a mare after my own heart! With a fiddle like that, you must be! Take it back, and welcome, but let me make you an offer; stay, be my own court bard, and we'll dance to your songs every night! We'll have the joy o' your fiddle until Equestria itself ends, and we fall into the darkness together! For none who live in my court will die of age."

"Lyra!" The Court roared again. Brian Connors bowed gracefully, and offered me a drink of punch. Well, I wanted to leave, but I drank it; and with that, he caught me. I'll make this clear, Bon-Bon; whether you have dealings with a human or not, remember that the very worst mistake you can make is to eat or drink anything they offer you in the privacy of their own homes!

Their magic is in some ways a cruel reflection of our own; and while a pony who gives you bread and salt under their own roof can be trusted without reserve, a human who does the same will draw you under his own dark power! After that, I soon forgot about leaving, and gave the crowd another song. It may not have been so practiced as the last, but they loved it just the same.

I'm not a unicorn for nothing, though, and soon realized I'd been enspelled. I fought as best I could, but there wasn't much I could do. I needed the King to release me. Whenever Brian wasn't nearby, I became restless and thought of escape. I didn't make much headway for quite a while; I don't know how long, for time rather flows together there.

Oh, I did try, but all the same, I didn't try that hard. The halls under the dolmen were constantly filled with music and laughter. Humans may be tricksy, but they're joyful all the same. I had a wonderful time there. I made many friends, the chief of whom was Brian Connors himself. He was a merry old soul, always ready with a jig, or a song, or a prank of some sort.

We used to sneak up on some of the more steadfast humans and surprise them, or sour their wine, or...well, suffice to say, Brian was the best trickster among them and always had a moment to spare for me, or a spot in one of his plots.

Once or twice he turned his wit towards me, but it never cut; once I was part of his Court, he'd no more make me cry than cut his own hand off. He looked after his subjects as best he could, for although humans aren't always friendly towards ponies, they're fiercely clannish, and will stand by their own to the bitter end. Though I may have been there against my will, I was no less his subject and friend than any in that great, fine, fair Court.

If it hadn't been for the family and friends I'd left behind, I might never have escaped. Still, home tugged at my heart. I would think of it when I lay down to sleep, at night after the revelry; most evenings were a dance or a feast, and those that weren't were both together! It wasn't until one day when I was walking the halls with Brian that an escape plan began forming in my head. He was showing me the finer points of a song.

"No, Lyra, not like that!" He grabbed my fiddle out of the air and re-played the stanza I'd been practicing, catching the exact mood I wanted. He made the notes skirl like leaves in the wind; if I ever meet a pony who's half the fiddler Brian Connors is, I'll call them Maestro the rest of my life!

Well, I was a little sore he'd shown me up so easily, so I turned the conversation to something else.

"Brian, tell me about the harp in my room, the one in the crystal case!" I'd found it the other day, on the bookshelves. New books appeared and disappeared like the breeze, but I seldom had time for reading.

"The golden clarsach? That belonged to my last bard. He was a bit of a magician, and wanted an instrument that could make anyone dance."

"Does it work?"

"No idea. Give it a try and we'll see, hey?"

"What happened to him?"

"Well, he made a bit of a mistake with his spell-" He launched into a silly tale about how this human had danced off into the night and was probably dancing still. I laughed at the end, taking it as the joke it most likely was; I long ago gave up trying to make sense of when he was telling the truth. He wasn't a bad person, but he loved to lie. No harm in it; he just never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.

Well, I mulled over the harp for several days, till I came up with a plan and resolved to try it. I uncased it, and carefully strung it with hairs from my tail. They weren't satisfactory, but I simply wanted to test the enchantment. I plucked one, and my hoof twitched; I plucked two, and my feet tapped. I put it away and thought some more.

At the next feast, I took a piece of honeycomb and made some wax earplugs. With those, I could mostly keep my hooves still. They blocked enough music I could resist the spell if I concentrated. Good enough! Now for the hard part.

I'll say it again, Bon-Bon. I have no idea how long I spent under that dolmen. All I know is I practiced that harp every night, again and again, until I could and did play it with earplugs, and even resist the spell a bit without them. After I was absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure my skills were worthy of a royal bard, I put it someplace safe and did my best to forget about it.

You see, I knew this plan only had one shot. Brian Connors loved a jest more than even the next human, but if this went wrong, he'd be raging fit to burst and he'd know that I wasn't as happy as I appeared. In short, he'd keep an even closer watch on me, so as to save face and not lose his Royal Bard. I was gambling everything on this and wanted to make it count, so I delayed long enough thoughts of the harp would be far from his mind.

Once I judged enough time passed, I started the next stage.

"Brian," I said, "Oh, Brian Connors; I've got a request for you, Your Majesty!" I widened my eyes, and turned my cutest look on him. It worked every time.

Brian, lounging on his throne of carved oak,cushioned in blue velvet, threw his head back and laughed. We were presiding over a feast.

"Lyra, dear, what do you want from me?" His eyes twinkling merrily. "You only call me 'Your Majesty' when you're right serious, so spit it out!"

"Oh, nothing much." I looked away coyly, playing with a spilled bit of milk on the table.

"Lyra, dearest, ask, ask! Surely, you're not afraid Brian Connors will be angry, are you?"

"No, it's just...oh, well. I want to see the moon again," I replied, as wistfully as I could.

You see, ever since the night I'd been captured, I hadn't been outside once. The faeries didn't make a habit of partying under the stars; they can only be found there on the finest summer nights.

"Hmm." His eyes grew distant. "Yes! Oh, you are a fine filly, Lyra, to speak what's on my heart as well. Tomorrow!" He lifted his goblet high, and brought it down with a resounding crash. Instantly, each and every human fell silent and turned towards us. "Tomorrow, the Court is held under the moon!" He cried, raising the goblet to his lips and draining it dry. "Lyra, Bard of the Court, will play to us under the stars!"

"HURRAH!" The humans cried as one, their excitement suddenly surging to match his. They threw back their chairs and leaped to their feet, banishing the table with a wave. They called for a song, and I picked up my fiddle to oblige them. I schooled my face, using every lesson Brian had taught me to keep my expression under control. Tomorrow, I was going to escape! The tunes were especially merry that night.

The next morning I was wide awake and jittery. I've never been the most confident pony, but this was something else; I'd helped with pranks, Brian's and a few others, but never orchestrated one. This was big! If I pulled it off, I'd be putting one over every single human in the court, and Brian Connors besides! Well, I acted normal as best I could, and prepared carefully and quietly.

By night-fall, I had the harp tucked away, tuned pitch-perfect and strung with a set of real silver strings I'd stole. My fiddle I kept by my side, and whenever I felt very nervous I'd play a stroke or two, and feel better. The moon rose fine and clear, and I breathed easier when the dolmen opened and the whole court trooped out.

I was expecting it, but was still shocked to again find them no higher than my fetlock. I sighed with relief when the fiddle, and more importantly the harp, kept their sizes.

In the twinkling of an eye the Good People set their ballroom. They trimmed the grass with tiny silver sickles, and set up toadstools grown specially. Soon as I'd tuned my fiddle, they were ready and roaring for a song. I lay down near the circle, close enough to see their faces but not in the way, and started a merry jig.

Oh, we had a fine party that night! The moonlight was the softest silver you've ever seen, and the cold air made dancing a joy! The tiny faces of the Good People sparkled, and even the most surly danced with grace and aplomb on the short-cut grass of the Faeries Ballroom!

I enjoyed myself as I usual; but this time, behind the joy of the fiddle hid the spark of a secret so tightly grasped it bubbled and burst within me. Having a secret is its own sort of joy, you know; this one that much more, since it was that much more of a surprise.

Well, I put my plan into action smoothly. About one-o'clock, when the best dancers were really warming up but the worst were flagging, I stopped for a drink, put in my earplugs, and switched my fiddle out for the harp. The strings held their tune, to my relief. I'd set them for a fire-warmed hall, not the cool night, but they rang true. Maybe the magic of the harp helped. Either way, looks of surprise and joy came from my audience as they felt their flagging feet pick themselves up and dance onwards.

The party revived after that. I think some of them yelled congratulations to me; I know Brian waved happily to me, from the center of dance floor. I'm sure he enjoyed it very much; it's just the sort of prank that he would glory in. I smiled secretly, and played on.

The merriment continued, late into the morning. Eventually I saw worried looks from the clever ones, and my smile grew a little brighter. Finally, the rest started to catch on, but there was nothing they could do; I had laid the trap well, and they were truly caught.

Now, a human won't succumb to petty exhaustion at night, especially from dancing, so there was no reason for the harp's enchantment to fail. It held them tight! They turned and spun, danced and jigged, caught in perfect formation by my music even as the dreaded sun crept towards the horizon!

They were scared then! I saw fright wash over them like a wave, as the barest hint of light started to brighten the sky. Brian Connors' face was dark as a thundercloud, and I felt a little sad at how badly I was treating them to win my freedom. I'd resolved to see this through, but it wasn't my intent to kill them! As dawn lightened the sky, I slowed my music and pulled the plugs out of my ears. Over the gentle tinkle of the harp, I called out to Brian.

"Release me, Brian Connors!" I have no idea where my courage came from, but my voice was calm and hard, just firm enough to convey seriousness without putting his back up.

"Lyra, dearest Lyra! What have I done to deserve this from you?"

"Release me!" I called again. "Or the sun will be upon you, Brian! I don't wish to hurt you, but on your own head be it when you think to steal a filly from her family!"

"Oh, you are a hard mare, Lyra Heartstrings! You've cut me deep this day, and I'll not soon forget it!" I shivered at that, but played on; his brow was beetled, and I could tell he was in a sore temper. Being bested in front of his whole Court was not something he would easily let go.

"Be that as it may, Brian! You know my word is good! I promise; give me my freedom, and I'll let you and yours return to the dolmen!"

How he howled at that! But the dawn was pushing away the darkness; in a few moments there would be true sunlight trickling through the forest leaves, and he and his court would be in mortal peril. He had no choice, and he knew it.

"Fine! You are free of my power, Lyra Heartstrings! Cease your thrice-cursed playing!" At that I sighed a deep sigh, and slowly lowered the harp. If I'd been standing, I think I would have fallen over; even so, I nearly fainted from relief and exhaustion.

I'd kept my eye on him the whole time. Brian Connors was telling the truth, as much as he could. I felt his power lift off me, and sighed again. He stood there, surrounded by his whole court. He was still no higher than my fetlock, but I quavered at the black look on his face.

"Take your fiddle and be gone!" I shivered, the venom in his voice burning me. As much as I relished my freedom, I'd hurt a friend today.

"No." I pushed the violin towards him. "Keep it." I loved my instrument, but it might return a bit of his pride. Friends are worth more than fiddles. Though I'd hurt and humiliated him, his face lightened a bit.

"Truly, Lyra? I know how you prize this."

"Truly, Brian Connors, King of the Humans. May you have the joy of its music until Equestria ends, and we fall into darkness together." I think a sparkle fell from his eye at that, but it was too small to be sure.

"Then away with you! And take that harp, too!" He put a hand to the fiddle, and it was suddenly small. He drew in a breath, and the whole court with him; and just like that, they were gone. The door of the dolmen shut with a clang, and the lintel disappeared as if it had never been.

I stood there for a time, feeling the relief of the sun wash over me in the dawning of a new day, my only company the silent standing stones. It wasn't until later I found I'd gotten my cutie mark, matching that fine golden harp, on the night I tricked the entire Faery Court into dancing the sun up.

Well, I'll say it three times; I have no idea how long I was Royal Bard in the Halls of the Faery King. It may have been weeks, months, or years; but it may also have been a single day and night. All I know for sure is when I made it home, my family thought me lost in the woods, come back having exchanged my fiddle for a gold clarsach with silver strings, and a cutie mark to match. I told few the truth of what I remembered; the rest thought I'd forgotten in my fright. Brian Connors had taught me something of how ponies think, and I'd learned well enough.

As soon as sunlight touched my harp, all the magic was gone from it; but ever since then, that's how I've played.

Lyra fell silent, staring into the last of her drink. She tossed it back with a smirk, and slammed the glass down.

"Now! Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Well...no."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"You have the harp, right?" I sounded more confidently than I felt. "That's proof. And, well, after hearing you play...when you claim you learned as Royal Bard to the Faery Court, in the hall of Brian Connors, the Faery King himself...I can't really contradict you. I won't say that it makes sense to me, but...well, your music is truth and beauty and life in itself, so that's enough for me."

At that, Lyra teared up and sniffled a little, a drop or two running down her face.

"Thanks, Bon-Bon. That...it means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Lyra."

We sat in silence for a while. I don't remember what we did after; probably something silly. But that's how I met her, that wonderful quirky green mare.

It was at a Canterlot party.

You know how it is.