NIGHTMARE NIGHT AT GRUMPY’S CAVE!
Author's Note
This story is based on an actual experience of mine. Planning to stay in on Halloween, I was asked to assist a stuck vehicle on our "roads" out here. The family called friends and we wound up with a party that was unplanned but much fun!
NIGHTMARE NIGHT AT GRUMPY’S CAVE!
It was nearly Nightmare Night’s Eve. Humming quietly to myself, I was busy preparing foal bowl treats in the kitchen of my cave.
The Litch King, Lord of the Dead, actually leaned his skeletal head over my shoulder to watch. In an amused voice, he asked, “Are you really expecting foals up here on the mountain, Nightmare Nighting, Grumpy?”
Turning my own bare skull, with its everburning candle set between its curled horns, to my friend and guest, I replied, “No, not really, Clarence. I expect a quiet night that we can spend reading a Daring Do book or something of the sort.”
The Litch King nodded happily. “I would like that, Grumpy. I was looking forward to doing Nightmare Night at Caramel Treat’s again this year. It is a pity that she got tied up by that big catering order.”
I replied, I know. “Even Coalsmoke and Romaine are going to the big Town Hall Nightmare Night Costume Gala. It is a Charity event that has tied up all of our friends.”
I finished putting sticks into the treats so that I could dip them. As I swirled chocolate onto the prepared treats, Clarence, the Litch King wrapped them in waxed paper and added them to the growing collection in the big foal bowl.
Bare bone should not be able to smile but it can. If it is the Litch King’s bare, bone skull that is smiling. Or the very well done glamor spells on my own skull. Those can smile or show other expressions, too.
Clarence asked, all too innocently, “If none come for the treats, what will become of them, Grumpy?”
My skull grinned, “Why do you think that I am fixing treats that are favorites of OURS, Clarence? We will get what is left after Nightmare Night.”
Fractionally before the knock, Clarence turned his head to the door. I looked out the spy hole in the door. It was a lone Rom horse whose fur was one of the strange color patterns that they have. I believe that it is called dappled gray. It appeared that she was distraught.
I opened the door in my steel plated front cave entrance to let her in. As she stepped in, Clarence said, “Welcome, Seira Nan Halit, of the band of Sando.”
She did come in, but gave Clarence a sharp look. “How is it that you know my name and band?”
I offered, “What you see is not a costume or disguise spell of some kind. This is the Litch King, Lord of the Dead. He knows all mortals. Most of them do not especially want to get to know him.”
Showing no trace of fear or repugnance, Seira gave him a courtly curtsy. “It appears that I have truly come to the best place for what I need.
“My sister, Lann Dra Halit is in the Ponyville General Horsepital. Some recent events have purged the bad elements of the Medical Society and they are seeing to her care at no charge, just as Marchhare said that they would.
“She is so ill that she could not even Pull from after Mareimount to here. She was distressed that we had to carry her in the caravan. In spite of what Marchhare told us about coming here, the doctors have said that she is soon to go to the Lake. Our Loved Dead Are Always With Us but I do not want her to pass from us who live.”
I nodded gently and said, “Few want to lose loved family members. What, exactly, is it that you want from me?”
“Whatever it takes to do it, I want my sister Lann to live.”
I glamored myself a visible body, in fact it was my handsome piebald black brown and white body that I had back when I was still alive. Kept the skull, though. It was the last real part of me that I have left. Besides, it was Nightmare Night, after all.
I nodded, “Because you are not seeking any sort of harm to another, I will reduce my usual fee. If I can do anything for your sister, it will only cost you a single golden bit and something that I hope that you and those of your band who are here will enjoy.
“First, I need to ask the Litch King if anything needs to be done or if anything can be done.”
I turned to Clarence and requested, “Your Majesty, is the horse Lann Dra Halit due to die soon?”
Clarence said softly, “I have an appointment with her at 2:35 AM, tonight.”
Seira was starting to cry in a heartbroken way.
I asked Clarence, “Is her death a Fated one or can it be changed?”
Clarence replied, “Her death is not Fated. Make your contract, Grumpy.”
Seira looked up, hope in her almost golden brown eyes. “I have the bit. You mentioned something else, too?”
I nodded briskly. “Right. For some reason, the Ponyville Town Hall Costume Gala does not want either the Litch King or myself to be there. They also sucked in our whole circle of friends. We were going to be alone tonight. Bring up those of your band that are here in Ponyville. We will make a party of it!”
Suddenly she grinned, ear to ear, as they say. “The Gala not only did not want us to perform, they told us not to do our usual evening dances and songs at the Fairgrounds, where we are encamped.
“The band will love this!”
She pulled out the required gold bit. I pulled out the required contract. It was a simple one, quickly drawn.
As I was writing it up, I saw Seira on a Magic Net mirror. As wide spread as the Magic Net is, it is hard to remember that it was the Rom who invented it. I figured that she was spreading the good word about her sister.
Seira and I practically raced down to Ponyville to register the contract. She and I were then going to go and get her band. Clarence and I were going to have our own Nightmare Night party!
Inside the hall of records, Mol was behind the counter as usual. Today, my elderly friend was in a really phony deer costume. Pretending to be totally taken in, I asked, “Who are you and where is the lovely Mol today?”
Giggling, Mol set about registering my contract. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was about. Proving that there are good ponies in the world, Mol quietly paid the twenty bit registration fee for a goat’s contract to heal a sick Rom.
Glancing at the clock, Mol said happily, “Quitting time! This stupid Gala has killed all the usual parties. Even Caramel Treat’s party has been ruined. What are you going to do, Grumpy?”
I grinned, “Mol, my lovely, would you honor us by coming to OUR party? They even told the Rom not to do their usual road camp partying. As a result, we have conspired together. The Rom are coming up to my cave and we are going to have a party there!”
Mol smiled widely and exclaimed, “Rom dances and songs? That will be too much fun to resist! Are you cooking for the party, Grumpy?”
Seira grinned, “He can if he wants to, of course. We are going to cater it with Ka'chek goodies and a variety of hot and cold drinks! We want to celebrate Lann getting healed!”
Leaning close, she whispered, “We are getting some special guests too! Marchhare is coming from Roan Oak and both Tia and Midnight will come from Canterlot!”
I stopped cold. “You mean that Princess Celestia, Princess Luna and the Ghost Who Guides are all coming to my little party!?”
A haughty voice behind us sneered, “If the Princesses ARE coming, they have to go to the Gala! No other party is being allowed in Ponyville!”
Seira glared at the off tan pony with the blue mane. “No, MISTER LARD BUTT! Grumpeter’s Mountain is completely outside of Ponyville! You cannot do anything about it!”
He grinned meanly and retorted, “You lot try to leave those caravans of yours might come back to nothing! They could get stolen, robbed, busted up or burned! That party is OVER! Got it?”
I replied serenely, “Got it. I have been PAID to provide the caravans and their whole camp with safety from any harm at all.”
He was trying to block our way out of the building so I hit him with my pet defensive spell.
Because Larbut, Vice President in charge of Ponyville’s branch of Equestrian National Bank, was being a creep, I was smiling with delight, I said, “Blooper!”
That is the one word trigger for a guaranteed non lethal bit of amusement that I call Friday the 13th! Like its namesake, it lasts for a day unless I dispel it. A day full of every sort of clumsiness, embarrassment, and bad luck known to ponies!
As we strolled around him, Mister Larbut tried to turn so that he could block us again and tripped on the carpet runner. In falling, his jaw just missed the softer carpet runner. Clack! Upper teeth hit the lower as his jaw struck the hardwood of the floor!
Seira, watching the debacle in fascination, offered, “Our caravans appear to be in the best of hooves!”
The last that we saw of him, he was trying to extricate his portly hindquarters from a waste bin.
When the Rom heard about my prowess at the town hall they were delighted. I cheerfully set about my non-equine magic, laying traps for the unwary or wary ones who might try to do any form of harm or mischief to these caravans or their camp itself.
The Rom and Mol watched me inscribe circles, draw runes inside them, chant things and light a few candles at “cardinal points” as I did all the above. About 90% of what they saw was pure misdirection and showmanship. The hidden 10% would do the real job.
The Rom, who belonged there, were carefully excluded from the assorted delights that I laid.
We gathered up goodies, supplies, and cooking gear before trooping off across town toward my mountain. The climb up the trail to my cave was actually uneventful, except for a wonderful view of the sunset.
The Rom are expert at setting up parties! They had the fire going, water heating for hot drinks and snacks on the grill that fast! The music started almost the moment that we got to the ledge.
It took almost no time before they were dancing and singing in their own Gyptian tongue. If I did not understand the words, the beauty of the music and the dances made up for it.
Shortly, an elderly donkey in Rom sashes, harness and Freedom wandered out to the ledge, where I was. “So, that is the Litch King. Nice fellow. I do think that I would have remembered meeting him if I did die, over 800 years ago.”
I thought for only a second before replying, “You have said that you do not remember any paradise, like the Lake, either. It sounds to me like you had to leave some memories behind in order to return. Perhaps meeting him was among them.”
Marchhare, the Rom’s Ghost Who Guides, flopped one ear comically as he thought that over. “I never thought of that before. Of course, I try not to think about being dead too much.”
Just then we heard from above, “Clear the ledge! Royal Guard landing!”
That was followed by Celestia’s voice demanding, “Captain! We have told you before this, do not try pushing these civilians around! Land by threes and mingle with the crowd!”
One of the first three to land bulled his way toward the treat tray, muttering, “Mingle with THIS crowd? A donkey, a goat and a bunch of worthless Rom?”
Out of order for any sort of military show, a large blue, almost black, alicorn alighted silently behind him. She was wearing Rom sashes and harness. There was a Freedom, sort of like a headstall, but so designed that no bit or lead ring could be mounted to it, on her head. It was of brilliantly tooled leather, dyed and highlighted expertly.
She cut him off in mid grump. “Baron, you and the rest of this Guard imposed yourselves upon Us, my sister and I. You are correct. You are NOT WORTHY to mingle with THESE horses, that donkey or the GOAT. THEY ARE FRIENDS OF OURS and YOU ARE NOT!”
I just had to shove a hoof up his rump, so to speak. “As the dead goat in question, you know, the one who OWNS this place, may I make a suggestion for Baron Sir Noseinair?”
Princess Luna, Midnight among the Rom, smiled, Nightmare fangs showing. “Please, Grumpeter, do make whatever suggestion you think fit. I, personally, favor sending him to the Prance frontier. I hear that there is a lot of unrest there.”
I nodded, “True enough. I could even guarantee that he would not survive. He does not need such drastic treatment though.”
I pointed to my trail head. “Since he does not want to mingle, as you ORDERED, let him have the privilege of guarding the trail. Stand him just off the ledge. Require full formal guard brace until the party is over or he is relieved.”
Celestia, Tia among the Rom, had landed and the rest of the Royal Guard were down in good order. She whispered to the Captain, who nodded understanding.
He came over and ordered, “Baron, you are to stand at formal brace over there, just off the ledge. You may not speak to any here without Royal leave. That is an order.”
The Baron skulked to the indicated spot. Instead of a formal brace, he slouched and stared enviously at the rest of the guards being offered snacks and drinks. They were relaxed and laughing, watching the Rom dancing just for the joy of dancing.
Silly party games were going on. Ducking for apples. Safe target and ring toss games. Guessing games. All sorts of fun.
Acting like they were having more fun than was proper at all, both Midnight and Tia were helping to cook and serve snacks!
As the baron’s jaw dropped at the sight, a small herd of foals, escorted by a mare in a vampony costume, finished the long climb from town to my ledge.
He was just starting to snap, “Clear off! This is a very private …” when Midnight herself cut him off.
“Welcome! Can you stay for Grumpy Goat’s Nightmare Night party? We have plenty to share! The foal bowl is just over there! Be sure to get some for your loot bags!”
Turning to the embarrassed baron, she said clearly enough to be heard by every pony, donkey, horse or goat on the ledge, “You were ORDERED to formal Guard Brace and to not speak without our leave. This is inexcusable behavior for any guard of ours.
“Brace, NOW!”
More torches, several groups of them, were advancing up the trail.
Clarence wandered over and stared at the hapless baron. Turning to Midnight, he inquired, “Should I make, um, an ‘adjustment’ to this one’s Appointment with Me? It would be no trouble at all.”
Midnight turned a Nightmare smile to Clarence and replied, “No, my old friend. My present Captain of the Guard was as bad or worse when he started. This is the baron’s first Guard posting beyond Canterlot. Give him the time to grow and understand.”
The next group of foals arrived. They were escorted by a huge Everfree Ridgeback Wolf. Midnight called in delight, “Fangrin! I see that you brought more young ones to Grumpy’s party! How did you get free from helping with the Gala? Where is Caramel?” She took the time to offer the foal bowl to the youngsters in their costumes.
Fangrin grinned a perfectly genuine wolf’s grin, full of fangs. “When Caramel found out about the Council shutting down even private home parties to inflate their Gala at the expense of the fun of every foal in town, she quit! She told them that they had all the food and could serve it themselves!
“We heard about Grumpy having a party, outside of Ponyville! We split up so that we could bring as many foals up here to party as we could! She is leading that group up!” He pointed with a furred and clawed paw.
As the party grew, I noticed an oddity. The ledge out in front of my cave and my front room were not getting crowded. There was room for everyhorse, filly, colt, pony and all.
I saw Tia consulting with Marchhare and pointing out what appeared to be the same thing. I overheard, “Right. De Writer actually did it. He wishes that he could be here but the Edict of Banishment has no loophole.”
She said something that I missed, with the din of the party.
Marchhare’s reply was, “He calls it Mathemagic. Something about classes of Infinity. That is what I know of it.”
The foals, and knowing that Caramel Treat and Fangrin had quit the Gala, really made the party for me. I saw that Caramel Treat and Fangrin both were happily assisting with the party snacks and drinks. Midnight is not the only one who loves to cook!
It was getting late on Nightmare Night. Clarence, the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, stood and called out, “I have an announcement to make!
“Many of you know who I am. I am in fact the Lord of the Dead. I had an Appointment with the Rom mare, Lann Dra Halit at 2:35 in Ponyville General Horsepital.
“Thanks to the love of her sister Seira and a contract drawn by our Host, Grumpeter Goat, I have not kept that Appointment. Her illness was grave. She will need time to recover before she can Pull again, but she will!”
The Rom all leaned back, muzzles to the sky or roof and trilled their joy!
Midnight had tears in her eyes. “That we celebrate the saving of the life of a friend on Nightmare Night is the best gift that I could get!”
A couple of the foals, one dressed as a vampony and the other, I realized with a shock, was an attempt to be ME went to the foal bowl and chanted, “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!”
The Werewolf, Caramel Treat, gave the vampony one of my cherry centered chocolate dipped goodies. With a grin, she exclaimed, “It will bleed red when you bite it!”
Clarence, the Lord of the Dead, hoofed over a treat to the colt disguised as me and said, “Friendship can reach beyond the bounds of life and death.
“Happy Nightmare Night!”
~THE END~
