Past Recollections In The Unforgiving Mountains
Purple mist shrouded a vast expanse of green hills and lush plains. I viewed the land from atop a high mountain ledge, cold from the ancient snow resting on its sides. Underneath my exhausted body were soaked bedrolls, wet not from the snow but from unusual amounts of sweat that poured down my face and chest, drenching my dark green coat. However the icy mountain and piercing winds had no effect on my temperature as I still felt warm, more so when looking upon such untouched, unburdened countryside. Countryside was something I failed to notice during my life. In my quick breaks or travels my mind was set on the job in hand and not what lay around it. It’s something I regret ignoring.
I lifted myself from my ruined covers and stumbled over to the ledge’s end, sending a few loose rocks tumbling down the steep cliff below. I watched as the cloud dispersed, shifting apart as swiftly as waves backing away from sand in the early mornings. A narrow line of grass ran vertically down the field, starting near the tall hills and ending at the mountain’s base.
Scanning the widening path I spotted two shadows darting across, moving with the fog but not concealing themselves within it. Both were ponies with large horns, one cloaked while the other bare and they ran with fear rather than enjoyment. The two galloped towards a single silver tree bearing no fruit but shaped with significance. Six branches of equal length and shape protruded from the tree trunks head, three branches arcing to the left and three to the right so that the leaves took the form of what I’d say looked like half a battle-axe. An axe so sharp the slightest touch would leave a bloody mess.
The haze had not retreated far though, much of it gathered around the tree’s roots. It made me feel nauseous. The mist’s wavy movement disorientated anypony looking directly at it, the tree curved and twisted like the head of an owl so I averted my gaze and looked once again towards the silhouettes, still sprinting but nearing their target.
They were hypnotising. So much to the point that I hadn’t realised my body had slumped down onto my stomach so I was now lying on the rough rocks, staring at the mystical beings. My trance was broken when a sharp surprise jolted my bare flank and I nearly hurled myself off the mountainside. Turning to find out what scared me so I found that it was lightly snowing. Little pea-sized snowflakes floated from the clouds above dressing the ledge in shimmering white. One landed on my nose, melting instantly leading to a droplet of water sliding into my nose.
I sneezed and rubbed my nose furiously, trying to get rid of the burning sensation. When I brought my head back around to see the shadows they had reached the tree. The cloaked one guarded while the other rummage through the leaves. I inspected the pearl wood once again, hoping to find anything different or out of place. The pale leaves rustled gently and with each pocket of wind I saw something I didn’t before, something shining. A jewel it seemed, a gem cut into a shape I couldn’t make out.
I soon learned it was not the only jewel in the tree. The draft picked up and more gems began to glitter with the slowly fading moonlight, gleaming from behind the hills. I counted six, one for each branch and all varied in colour.
Suddenly a shout bellowed from the far hilltops. The two ponies searched for the source while I saw it instantly looming on my high vantage point. Another pony, this one bulkier, stood on a hill. He signalled to something behind him, pointing a hoof at the tree, then looked back to keep his eyes fixed on the two shadows. I knew the tree jewels were important, perhaps holding a certain power, but before I could catch another glimpse they were gone, shoved into a saddlebag and concealed by the cloaked pony.
The thick lilac shroud acted as their escape route, blocking any sight of their movements. The thing I remembered most was the very last thing I saw of the cloaked pony. Right before the figure spit with the other it poked its head back around the tree and gazed straight into my eyes. It was then I recognised her with those cyan eyes. Luna.
I crawled back to my bed covers feeling encumbered and fatigued. The snow fell heavier and hurt as they struck me like falling rocks. Large clumps of hard ice smashed around me, covering the ledge in white within seconds. I panicked, unable to dodge the boulders of ice. I took one last glance up to see my doom; a huge block of snow the size of three ponies descended upon me, aiming to crush every bone imaginable. Its shadow grew bigger, then…
I woke.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
My friend Gunner wrapped in durable brown robes was the first voice that welcomed me back.
“Don! Donny mate! Wake up!” He yelled pulling my limp body through heavy mounds of snow.
My real name was Silver Hoof, appropriately named after I was born with an abnormal silver hoof. Sure ponies had a few laughs about it through school, but it was the physically unique part of me. What most might remember me for if I ever crossed their paths in life.
My close friends called me Don because quite frankly if you're my close friend then you’ve fought and killed by my side a few times and saved my life once or twice. Also I commanded nearly every task we’ve ever accepted, whether it was assassinations to robbing a few bits, earning me the title of ‘Don’.
An unbearable surge of biting frost stormed throughout my body as my eyes shot open. I struggled out of Gunner’s grasp and hit the arctic mountain path hard, the numbness of my body absorbing most of the pain.
“Oh thank Celestia you’re up mate. Thought I’d lost yeh.” Gunner said slumping onto his haunches.
I gave a quick nod and hopped onto my hooves. I wiped away a few thick strands of soggy purple mane from my eyes and removed my cloak, the wet rendering it useless against the elements. It took a while to find myself again. Hitting my head hard must have flipped the wrong switch somewhere in my noggin. I tripped over myself once or twice but soon enough me and Gunner were trotting up the hazardous trails in search of our third companion.
“W-Where’d he g-go?” I asked shivering uncontrollably and sticking close to the inside of the cliffs. The trails we had taken had barely enough space for two ponies to travel side-by-side and along with the constant fear of taking a trip into an endless gorge if you make the slightest miscalculation, burdens were plentiful.
“He ran ahead t’ look for a place t’ stay while we get you back to full health.” I had reckoned so; the downfall of snow was so heavy that you couldn’t see five metres in front of you.
Several grey mountains towered around us, their tips piercing the blue sky. The track we selected winded up the steep mounts. Whether we looked up or down, left or right all we would see is thick cloud or a flurry of snow.
As a result of the heavy gloom I couldn’t make out the exact time, for the sun was but a dim blaze. I feared what problems the night would bring as the slippery paths were already hard to make out. Doing it in the black of night would surely curse our steps.
Gunner was an old friend and did not hide his concern. I didn’t blame him. He’d been with me through thick and thin. We were unrelated brothers and we’d give our lives for one another. Not sure how that would work out but it’s a good thought. “Where were you born?” he said sharply, testing me.
“W-what? Um, Trottingham. Thirty two years ago. You lived just around the corner but we didn’t meet until that event concerning the mugging.”
Now that was quite the occurrence. We nearly beat a stallion to death for mugging an elderly mare. He threw her unconscious body aside and bolted down an alleyway. Me and Gunner had spotted this and aimed to stop him. We chased him into a dead end and demanded he handed over the money he stole. Instead of money he pulled out a knife and sliced Gunner across the chest. It was only a light wound and the thief wasn’t much good with it so a concise fight ensued where I broke his jaw and Gunner jabbed his ribs, cracking a few of them. In the end we got the money back and he was arrested, but me and Gunner got out of there fast to avoid any assault charges placed on us by the mug. That was when we decided to become mercenaries, or vigilantes as some have said.
My friend was a medium sized stallion. What he lacked in size he made up in muscle and usually he carried most of our equipment. Losing him would be the equivalent of burning down a scientist’s lab or a bookworm’s library. His coat was chocolate brown just like his father’s but his mane and tail was a shade of grey, a colour which had no relation to his relatives at all. Gunner’s flank bore a light grey saddle bag filled with various ends of odd tools. It was a lie really. I had never seen him travel without at least two sets of saddlebags.
“Ok good. What is our mission?” Our mission? I completely forgot it.
Shaking my head I said “fill me in.”
It slowly came back to me as I took mental notes from Gunners explanation. To cut it short, we had an informant in Canterlot who was linked with a lot of other mercenaries. He sent us a letter ordering us to ‘prepare ourselves’, not illustrating what for. It also stated ‘if you don’t get another letter in the next few days get to Canterlot FAST. Do not take the train, it’ll be too risky. Just get here!’
Well, no message arrived so we did as instructed and set off. That was about three days beforehand and it was a two days canter as the Pegasi fly, hence our moving through the maze of rock and snow was at a good pace. If we had no more distractions we would report at the gates by the morning of the fifth day.
If you were wondering about our jobs we were sellswords. Give us the bits and we’d do what’s necessary, providing it didn’t dishonour us. That was our one guideline: ‘We’ll work for money and honour, not for money without honour.’ It tended to make jobs fairly difficult to find since there were many more sick ponies in this world than you’d think! Some of the offers made to us over the years had been unbelievable. I remember somepony wanting their foal dead, and there were others wanting their elderly slaying. All for the sake of saving a few bits!
But so far me and Gunner haven’t really done anything that we regret. It’s no lie that every now and then I wonder about some of the ponies I’ve killed, ask myself if they deserved death. I always say the same thing, if Gunner didn’t have a problem with it neither did I. He could be frustrating at times however.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
One time we had to sneak through a restaurant window. The place was called Mistletoe & Sunshine, and our target loved to stay there late at night and steal food, drink and too often bits. The owners had known about these habits long enough but also knew that if they fired him he would return with a vengeance, as well as a small army. He was a well-known pony in a certain gang who too were well-known to kill ruthlessly if they thought there was a problem.
The owners thought that if it was made out that some rival gang or a thief had broken in and killed him they wouldn’t have any problems. They had already obtained a new employee who was a fine cook and reigned from a respectable family. The re-enactments of the current chef’s crimes wouldn’t be a worry.
Anyway me and Gunner managed to get through this window and set up our positions. Gunner overturned a table then held his bow ready to release a swift volley of arrows while I snuck up to the kitchen door and searched for a way to gain his attention. The restaurant was a nice place, four stars easily with miniature aquariums dotted around for pleasurable viewing. One side of the building even faced the beach! To be honest it was a bit too posh for me. A quick pint from the local pub and a nice grilled hay sandwich from the takeaway would do after a night out.
I nearly slipped on the polished marble floors a couple of times as I crouched, silently approaching the expensive mahogany door. I peeked through the partly open door though could see no way of getting in without alerting the chef, so I thought of a half decent plan. I signalled Gunner to aim at the door and ready himself for when ding the bell on the counter. So I crept under the main service area and mouthed ‘ready’ to Gunner, who nodded back.
I slowly rose and sought out the bell. Our target was a dark blue, overweight pony with a diesel black mane. He was too busy eating half a chocolate cherry cake to notice me so I hit the bell and ducked down with ease, quietly drawing my sword in case the little plan went a bit skew-whiff. Sure enough the chef stopped eating with a curious grunt and cautiously tip-hoofed outside to find the source of the disturbance, his heavy steps completely contradicting his behaviour. He held a great big butcher’s knife in his mouth as he exited the kitchen, washed and ready to cut the toughest meats. To his extent the blade served him no use whatsoever as Gunner planted three arrows straight into his chest.
The first did little damage as his fat produced another layer of defence. It simply dangled from the skin, the tip only just clinging onto his thick flab. The other two penetrated the rolls as Gunner put some extra power on them. Our target fell sideways, blood gushing over the floor. He cracked his head on the way down against a solid stone table. Looks like the VIP area wanted some revenge. The knife sounded a loud ping on the marble flooring and splashed in the dark red blood. My friend was happy with his work. I congratulated his shooting with a “Well done” and immediately set off putting our weapons away into the saddle bags. I made for the window we used to enter, but Gunner had other ideas. This is where my frustration comes into play.
“Wait a second Green” he said shaking his head “I ain’t going back out that window.”
I rolled my eyes but I soon saw that he was serious. Gunner wanted to depart through the front door and he was there in seconds. It was a big blue double door with no alarm system visible so Gunner stupidly dismissed any chance of there being an alarm. I knew better.
“Gunner pack it in” I said impatiently “You’ll set off an alarm.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Don’t bother. You really think a place like this has n- Oi!” It was too late.
Before I could finish Gunner was at the front door reaching up for the main lock. And before I could stop him he yanked the small lever down, setting off every alarm in the building. Flashes and high pitched screeches could be seen and heard for miles. I made for the window but there was a back door closer by that Gunner had nearly reached, so I pursued him.
Gunner was loving it! He was laughing as we fled, pretending to be scared shouting “Oh hell here comes the law!” And “I fought the law!” He even bloody well dropkicked the back door open smashing against and cracking the outer wall. He landed safely on all our equipment. I pulled him up and we ran for the beach. I was thinking of the amount of shit we were in with our contractors but Gunner didn’t stop staring at me with a stupid grin in his face. I held out for a while but when we were a safe distance from the overly high security restaurant I gave up and folded into a fit of laughter, kicking sand into my friend's face.
I may have been laughing then but believe me that wasn’t the first or last time he played one if his idiotic stunts.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
“How f-far did h-h-he go?” I said bitterly, wishing I could just lie down and sleep in some sort of shelter. We had travelled for at least an hour since I regained consciousness and we found no sign of Stormcrow. The only thing that I could see which wasn’t white was a faint, washed out sun and that was lowering with speed.
Gunner shook his head with a grave look. “It’ll be night soon. I hope he’s alright.”
I could see his body beginning to shiver. I knew that he had food, drink and one or two extra cloaks in his bags but if we halted for even a minute we would be in danger, me in particular, of our bodies shutting down. The only way to keep our blood pumping was to trek on without falter and hope we find Stormcrow or shelter soon.
The sword by my side felt as if it was glued onto me from the ice. I probably couldn’t even wrench it from its sheath if I tried. I was bare, only my coat protected me from the weather and I feared it couldn’t shield me for much longer. I started to tremble.
My legs shook from not only cold but fatigue. I lost the memory of why I fell unconscious but I knew that it must have been something bad to render me so useless. A bit optimistic, yes but I have been through enough to know a bit of snow and ice couldn’t defeat me.
The mountain path dipped down quite a lot ahead of us, below the thick clouds. We steadily slid down on our flanks after failing to keep ourselves balanced. Luckily no bumps or loose rocks met us on the way. A brittle glacier did though. Gunner narrowly missed plummeting to his death when a large chunk of the path collapsed, crashing against each side of the black, icy gorge.
Once we dusted ourselves off and made sure nothing had fallen from the bags we carried on our search for Stormcrow. The air was slightly thicker around us now and we had a higher visibility, however we could no longer see even the sun above us as dark cloud wrapped around the mountains like a tent rope around its pin.
We decided to trot for a while in an effort to warm us up. I was concerned that if we were to sweat our conditions would worsen but my body said it needs this one last push. Our slow jog was cut short though as when we turned around the next bend we saw Stormcrow, only he wasn’t on his feet. Our companion was leant against the mountain wall guarding a small cavern, waiting for us. At least that’s what it looked like.
Forgetting the perilous, never-ending drop only centimetres away we galloped to our friend. Gunner was first to reach and to my relief he called out “he’s alive!” When I reached them I found a large mound of hard ice close by. He must have been hit by it, but what caused it? Surely any noise would have alerted Stormcrow and he would have retreated into the cavern. That was beside the point; we needed to get our friend to safety.
I helped lift him up and carry him into the cave but after that I was spent. My brain cried for me to rest. The sad fact was that I knew a couple of things about medical attention so I was better off treating him. Gunner began unpacking the essentials: firewood, bedrolls, food and water, clothing and a few medical supplies to aid in my attempt.
A large, red bump had formed on Storm’s head and his front legs bore damage too. The rush of adrenaline from seeing Storm like this gifted me with warmth and strength. I set to work bandaging his forehead and legs after seeing no sign of blood clots or infected cuts, then when Gunner had the fire going I boiled a cup of water, placed an herb named Fire into the brew, and with a bit of thought I dropped in another named Dance.
Both leaves dissolved within minutes and a sweet aroma steamed up and fused with the cavern air. I forced the hot drink down his throat making sure every last drop was consumed. All of Storm’s ember green body twitched. A sure sign my mix was working.
Gunner handed me a spare cloak. Its dryness was as welcome as a warm bed or a lovely Dandelion Bap. I happily suited up in the thick, brown, cotton cloak and warmed myself by the fire. The cavern was neither deep nor tall, which in my opinion was good. I’ve never felt comfortable sleeping next to unexplored darkness.
I reached forward ripped away some toasted bread from the loaf cooking over the fire and ate it graciously, then sipped my own homemade tea. I never left home without a small sackfull of tea leaves. Annoyingly there was no milk or sugar, so black tea would have to do. A breeze whipped the fire. Embers flew in every direction and their light slowly died out as they descend. Outside snow continued to fall. A long line of it grew bigger at the entrance, drowning our recent hoofprints in what will soon be a foot high wall. The fire’s heat had caused some icicles to melt away or break off near the entrance, making it easier to get in and out
without the notion of being impaled.
With a belly full of bread and tea I decided it was time to retire.
“‘ere Gunner I’m-” I realised Gunner had dozed off next to the fire. I chuckled to myself and rolled him onto his bed rolls. A subconscious arm of his lifted the covers over him and he mumbled. Storm was as still as a rock so I checked him one last time. His temperature was normal and he didn’t seem to be waking anytime
soon. He was stable for now.
I set up my bed rolls against the caverns rough walls. I always found it easier to fall asleep facing a surface close-by rather than wide open spaces. I don’t know why, it’s been the same throughout my life.
I wasn’t a young stallion; no I was more or less middle aged. Old enough to see my fair share of horrors and my fair share of joys. I remember being admired too often for my ‘brave looks’. They said I had beautiful
hunter green eyes, but I see no beauty in the colour green. ‘They’ were a series of mares I couldn’t keep a decent relationship with. Figures being a mercenary and all with continuous killings and never leaving home without my sword but sometimes I wished I could call a mare my partner and spend the rest of my life with her. I had one in mind but… it was a longshot. I had no chance. The one night I spent with her was special and I’ll never forget it but it was the first and last time. And no I am not talking about smashing back doors in. It was much better than that. I thought about it as I fell asleep that night. I’d been blessed a peaceful memory.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
“What do you mean you’ve got no beer?!” The yellow barpony positioned himself opposite me, ready for a dispute.
I had found a little bar within Canterlot Castle called ‘Buck Tills’. It wasn’t bustling as you might think. In fact only one or two other ponies enjoyed the peace, quietly savouring their poison on dark wooden tables and chairs. Rows of bottles and jars were stacked behind the bar, some purposely left undusted to prove their old age. The bartender scrubbed the light brown counter with a red rag, listening to the smooth jazzy music emitting from an untarnished record player. Gladdened by the sight of a luxurious yet secretive little cocktail lounge I trotted to the bar and requested a pint of bitter. I was told they didn’t serve such ‘uncivil liquids’; rather they recommend the large selection of wines or Champagne.
“Champagne? What is it a bloody celebration? No I don’t want any of your high end vintages, I want a cold pint!” I was craving a beer after a day of putting up with endless prejudice snobs around every corner inspecting everything about me. I really needed to loosen up.
Taking a deep breath I asked “You’ve definitely got no beer?”
The barpony shook his red mane out of his face. “No, sir this establishment does not believe such a commoner drink should be served in the midst of royalty.”
“Commoner drink? Commoner drink?” How dare he call me a commoner in front of… well nopony really. But for an employee of such a classy joint to openly insult me was pathetic. Narrowing my eyes I sat upright and hit my hoof on the wooden counter. “Who do you think you are mate, placing yourself high and mighty in society? Pis-” I stopped myself. I’d get thrown out as easily as I came in from a place like this if I began
‘effin and blinding.
One of the ponies I noticed when I dropped in hadn’t blinked an eyelid at my disturbance. I peered at him and saw that he was dressed in a soft, grey cloak. A large bulge erupted from beneath the hood. I assumed it was his horn, though it was quite big in length, and he was surprisingly tall. He sat a few barstools down from me, slurping a drink I couldn’t make out. I took another deep breath and placed my elbows on the counter, sulking into my hooves.
“I’ll have what he’s having” I said with a sigh.
The bartender set to work instantly and before I knew it a caramel-like beverage was planted on the beermat (even though they didn’t serve beer) before me. It both looked and smelt like caramel. Perhaps it was a sweet melted down and mixed with liquor? I wondered what the hooded pony was doing with such an oddity. I picked up the glass and dipped in my tongue, receiving raised eyebrows from the yellow barpony. I cared not. It left a sweet taste, like it was nothing more than a children’s drink. I gulped down the light brown liquid
and got what I deserved; one hell of an impact.
It hurt, a lot. Imagine swallowing a ball of white fire which then flared up into your nose and brain. I cringed hard and coughed violently, slamming the glass back onto the mat forcefully. The cloaked pony spun around and let out a high pitched giggle at my misfortune. A giggle which couldn’t be that of a fully grown guy. He must have been a mare! Or an oversized stallion who’d recently been kicked in the balls and was in here
drowning his shame.
“You’re supposed to sip it slowly” she said jokingly. Ten bits landed next to my empty glass, thumping as they hit the hardwood. I cleared my throat and tried to argue against such generosity.
“You don’t have to do that.” I said. I tapped one of my belt pouches, “I’ve got plenty to spare.”
She rose high above me, still snickering at my mistake. Her coat must have been dark as I couldn’t figure out the precise colour hidden under those robes. She had cyan eyes with light blue eyelids, highlighting her face each time she blinked.
“Call it payment for laughter” was her response, one I didn’t have much of a problem with. “Come with me…”
Where were my manners? “Oh, Silver Hoof.”
“Silver Hoof, come with me.” The hooded mare went ahead, waiting for me at the door. “Come on!”
I thought it suspicious at first, some random stranger at least a foot higher than me hidden in disguise and wanting to lead me to an unknown location. Then again she had paid for my drink. And I had my sword if in worst case scenario so I decided it couldn’t do too much harm to tag along.
We both took a stroll outside into Canterlot Gardens. She remained cloaked but I sensed no hostility from her, especially in a place as pleasant as the Gardens. Praising the gardeners for their work we passed by diverse batches of lavender, rouge, lilac and even olive-green flowers. Formidable hedges neatly outlined the courtyard, creating natural pathways for all esteemed enough to visit. I recalled her recent, uncalled for payment on my behalf, so when I thought it best I fell back without her noticing and deposited ten bits into her pocket. She turned to see what I was doing but I had already moved forward, back to my previous place, calming her suspicions.
“Ok we’re here” she said after stopping abruptly in the centre of the Gardens. I asked why we had come to this small, clear, open field and received no answer. Instead she removed her hood and revealed herself to me.
I simply gawped at her. She was the single most magnificent, breath-taking mare I’ve ever set my eyes on. Her sapphire coat and glittering blue mane left me speechless.
“I didn’t expect such a reaction.” The purple mare deemed my response strange. “Surely being in the castle you would have talked to some form of royalty, my sister Celestia perhaps?”
She was a princess! I stood gawping at a princess!
Shutting my mouth I caught my breath “A- a princess?” She signalled her small crown but that wasn’t what I meant. “No, not because you’re a princess. Because…” should I say it? Would I seem weird or creepy? I didn’t care. “Because you’re the most stunning mare I’ve ever had the pleasure of bumping into.”
The princess blushed. She certainly didn’t see this coming. I didn’t know what to expect, but at least she hadn’t called the guards or ‘magic’d’ me away. Rather she froze as I did moments ago, staring blankly at me. Surely I wasn’t the first to say such a thing?
I stepped forward to try and snap her out of her daze, calling “Princess?” a few times. As I reached her she hurried back. “What’s wrong?” I asked out of bewilderment.
All of a sudden she frowned and pointed her hoof at me.
“You don’t mean that!” She yelled, then hung her head low “everypony knows my sister is the pretty one.”
Wow. A princess in disbelief of her own good looks. That was a first.
I tried reasoning with the typical ‘everypony else is prettier than me’ mare behaviour. “Why would I lie to you? I’ve only just met you.”
“You’re just trying to please your princess, just like everypony else.” I let out an impatient breath. Clearly something had been said in the past, something which scarred.
“No, I didn’t even know you were royalty until you said! I don’t even know your name!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just-” I could see she was on the verge of tears so I butted in.
“It’s nothing” I said firmly “you are beautiful and I’m seriously surprised nopony else has said so!”
Tears formed in her eyes and she sniffled. I walked up to her, gave a pitiful smile and embraced her. Her head rose with a shock but she didn’t try to stop me. Instead she hugged back, whispering “Luna” in my ear.
An hour or so passed. We sat on the grass looking at the fantastic array of stars and galaxies swirling around, dancing the night away. I always believed the stars were dancing around Equestria as they twinkled for our entertainment, helping little fillies and colts sleep knowing we’re all being watched over.
Luna tapped my side and lowered her horn, which sparked once. I wonder what she had done as nothing immediate happened, but moments later a star shot through the heavens, leaving a rainbow of gold. She smiled as my eyes widened.
This mare was truly gifted with a power of beauty casted on both herself and the night. “You really are a Princess of the Night.”
“The Princess of the Night” she responded with a wink.
“Well yes but-” before I could continue a purple hoof pressed against my lips, shushing me.
“It’ll be dawn soon.” She said with a yawn “Would you kindly escort me to my quarters?”
Her quarters? Two things popped into mind. One, she wanted a bit more than a friendly night out. The second, she plainly wanted me to escort her. I’d rather do the latter, this night was complete. No need for anything extra. “Why of course.”
It was a fair distance to her room, past the ballroom and throne-room. We shared stories with one another on the way following a message magically delivered to Luna by somepony called Twilight Sparkle. I learned of six ponies including this unicorn who could wield something called the Elements of Harmony and they have saved Equestria on a couple of occasions.
Her experience as ‘Nightmare Moon’ acted as one of these episodes. Luna had become angry with her sister and wished the night to last forever. Celestia banished her sister to the moon for a thousand years and it was only recently that the Elements had reformed her. The memories of her transformation saddened her, I could see that the event would never cease to trouble her. I cheered her up with an optimistic “chin up
and move on! You did no harm and I bet nopony blames you for ‘ought.”
I described myself as a mercenary in Canterlot for business with a prosperous pony, who granted me the ability to bear steel within the castle. The princess said it she regarded it quaint that I bore arms and that I must be an honourable pony. “I’d like to think so” I said with genuine integrity.
I deemed there no reason to share dark stories of mine; a few of the murders I committed may be seen to some as ‘sickening’. Instead I told her of the funnier ones, including the incident in the restaurant. Luna didn’t seem too bothered about tales of bloodshed and was amused greatly by Gunner dropkicking that one back door open even though the law was closing in. She was rather old fashioned, sometimes her speech would include ‘thou’ or ‘nay’. I guessed it a side effect of being locked away for a millennium. Lots of things, notably speech will have altered. All in all I liked her personality even more than her appearance. Luna was a chilled, self-ruling, key part of Equestrian’s royalty. Now that she’s back I reckoned we’d find it quite difficult without her.
Eventually we reached Luna’s room. The hallway leading to it was astounding! Either side of us were dark amethyst walls, crafted perfectly to radiate the moonlight from the large circular window behind us, positioned to capture the full moon for a split second as it inclined. A line of red torches ran alongside each wall, their red, flickering fire entrancing. She told me it was dragonfire and that it never ended its bright burning. Not wind, water ice or snow could lull the magic fire. At our hooves each phase of the moon had been carefully built in with white, polished chalk. From the new moon at the end of the hall to a full moon outside the giant doors, with thick, smooth purple stones welded into the wood establishing an arc of Night-Rock. On either side of the entrance a pillar of twisted metallic rock grew high, balancing a long slab of the same foreign stone on which an up-scaled replica of Luna’s crown rested.
No soldiers guarded her quarters. The hallways were silent as the night sky, our echoing steps the only
disturbance. We halted at the doors and I opened them with honour, bowing as I took my leave.
“Wait!” she said as I pivoted around. I admired her one last time, grinning as her face touched mine. Luna left me with a kiss before retiring to her bed. I muttered ‘thank you’ as she closed her doors, then wandering off into the castle depths with the stupidest grin imaginable. A heavy feeling bulged in one of my belt pockets. Scooping out the contents I felt something familiar, ten bits.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
