From Finner

Chapters

The Old Stallion
A Good Story
Finner's Tale
From Finner
Moving On

The Old Stallion

The wind was howling outside, cold enough to chill to the bone, and the salt in the air stung the eyes of everypony in it. It was the perfect night for a gathering in the tavern. Ale, cider, and other drinks flowed from cask, to tankard, to belly, as the ponies inside laughed and gossiped and exchanged exaggerated accounts of their daily lives. Or at least, most ponies did. For there was one mare sitting in the corner, wrapped in a cloak, barely noticed by the others except for the fact that she was a stranger.

Her light green mane and tail were marked by a darker green streak, and her tan, freckled face scrunched in concentration as she worked on tuning the antique instrument in her lap. As these first soft notes floated into the gathering, a few of the nearby patrons turned her way. Some raised their eyebrows as they sipped from their mugs, while others observed curiously. Soon, a quiet melody rose from the instrument, and the mare cleared her throat.

“Good evening, everypony,” she said. Her voice was tremulous, though it carried through the crowd. “Have you ever wondered where the stars came from? Well then, gather 'round and listen to my tale…”

And so the mare told the story of Dashing Hoof, how he, as an explorer, had been sent to survey Equestria after the Princesses had assumed their roles, how he’d discovered stones that only glowed at night, and how, after showing this discovery to the Princesses, these stones had been placed in the night sky for all to enjoy. But while the melodies that sounded were sure and sweet, the story was occasionally marred by a small stumble, slip of the tongue, or by the teller of the tale rushing through her words. Still, the ponies politely applauded and even tossed a few bits her way before returning to their tankards and their conversations.

The mare bowed low, then turned to retrieve her coins. Scooping them into a pouch, she cinched it closed and tucked it into a pocket sewn in her cloak’s inner lining. The pouch sagged, but although she feared the weight of it would tear the seams, they instead held. The mare gave a sigh of relief. She set to the task of preparing her instrument for travel when she heard a stallion’s voice from behind her.

“Not bad, kid,” it said. The mare peered over her shoulder. “Coulda used a bit of polishin’, but with a bit of practice, it’ll rightly shine.” She said nothing, eyeing him instead. The stallion extended a hoof. “Name’s Shark Fin,” he told her, “though my friends all call me ‘Finner’.”

The mare now turned to face him. He was an earth pony like herself. His coat was the color of indigo, and his mane and tail were a light, sandy hue, as was a short but somewhat unkempt beard that ran along his jawline. His eyes, set in a weathered face, were seafoam green. Fumbling with the instrument in her fore hooves, the mare returned his gesture. “Lyric,” she told him, shaking his hoof, a timid smile gracing her features.

“Nice teh meet yeh, Lyric,” Shark Fin said, setting his hoof upon the floor. Lyric nodded and went back to readying her instrument for travel. She rolled out a piece of oilcloth and held an end to its neck. There was a reverent whistle, then she heard the stallion say, “Yeh know, I ain’t seen a lute like that in ages.”

A twinkle came into Lyric’s eyes at his comment. “You know what this is?” she asked him, her lute cradled in one fore hoof, the cloth in the other.

“Course I do,” Shark Fin replied. His voice carried above even those of the nearby patrons. “Anypony’d be blind not teh see it for what it is. Would yeh mind if I...?” He held his hoof out, motioning towards the lute.

Lyric’s eyes dropped to her instrument. She gazed upon its faded varnish, the scratches that marred the wood’s surface. The silence grew between them. But, after a time, Lyric held it out to Shark Fin. He grinned in thanks, then bent over the instrument in his own close examination. Lyric shuffled from hoof to hoof. It felt like an eternity — when in reality it had been only a few moments — before it was returned.

“This is a fine piece. A mighty fine piece,” he said as Lyric wrapped the cloth around the lute’s neck. “Whoever built it knew what they were doin’.”

Lyric’s smile was warm now, though her back was to Shark Fin. “They certainly did,” Lyric said as she tied a string around the cloth. She tugged on the string to be sure the oilcloth was secure. “It has one of the purest tones of any instrument I have heard.” There was a fondness in her voice as she put her fore hoof through the lute’s strap, then swung it onto her back.

“I can see that,” Shark Fin told her. “So, Lyric, whaddayeh do?” he asked as she prepared to leave the tavern.

Lyric’s ears perked as she put a hoof to her chest and dipped her head, saying, “I am a humble travelling bard, venturing across Equestria to share my songs and stories with the inhabitants of this land.”

“A young’un like yehrself, goin’ off all on yehr own?” Before Lyric could protest, Shark Fin startled her by banging a hoof on the table before him. “Yeh remind me of me when I was yehr age!” Without pause, he said, “So, I’m bettin’ yeh’ll be lookin’ for a place teh stay tonight, that right?”

“I, well, yes,” Lyric stammered out, “though I have collected enough bits to stay at the inn.”

“Nonsense!” Shark Fin exclaimed. “Yeh’re comin’ with me, an’ that’s that.”

Lyric gawked as the odd stallion turned towards the tavern’s door and made his way through the crowd. Lyric almost let him get away from her. Almost. She trotted after him, catching up just before the door closed behind him.

He was waiting for her. “Started teh think maybe yeh weren’t comin’ after all,” he called above the gale. Lyric’s eyes watered. “C’mon, it’s this way.” He set off down a wide, dirt path that ran through the center of the seaside town. Besides the inn across from the tavern and some scattered buildings of varying sizes, the path was empty.

Not surprising on a night like tonight, Lyric thought as another gust assailed her, her mane flying into her face, her tail flapping about. Her cloak felt as if it were about to rip away in the wind’s wake, even as she held it against her body.

After an indeterminable length of time, Shark Fin stepped off of the main path onto another, well-hidden amongst the scrub grass and barely visible in the dark. The stallion’s steps were steady as the path sloped gently downwards, and Lyric did her best to follow close behind. A black expanse dotted with white crests that danced in the dark soon came into view. As they drew closer, the sound of waves lapping on the shore rose to Lyric’s ears, and the scent of brine bloomed in her nostrils.

Lyric looked along the sandy coast, but there was no habitation that she could see. Shark Fin, however, kept moving, and Lyric galloped along the beach to catch up to him. She found that he was stepping onto a pier, and tied to the end of the pier was something strange. It was not quite a house, for it had the bottom of a boat. But it was not a boat, either, for what would have been the upper decks were shaped like a house.

Shark Fin leapt from the pier onto the main deck. Lyric hesitated, but, after backing up and taking a running start, she swiftly landed by Shark Fin’s side. He whistled again. “I was gonna lower a plank for yeh, but that weren’t too shabby.” He opened a door leading to the house part of the structure. “Well, c’mon in,” he said, and stepped inside.

Lyric paused once more, but entered after him. It was dark, though the stallion lit a few lanterns. The interior was decorated with fishing nets and buoys, ships’ wheels and wooden carvings, all along the walls. Even the lanterns were of the kind to be found on a ship. Lyric marvelled at the sight.

“Yeh like it?” Shark Fin asked her.

“I do,” Lyric told him. “There must be so much history here.”

“There sure is,” Shark Fin replied. “But go sit over by the stove for a bit, alright? Yeh’re shiverin’ somethin’ fierce.”

It was then that Lyric realized just how cold she was. Her limbs, while not numb, were tingling, and her teeth chattered. She sidled over to the stove and slid her lute off of her back. While she made herself comfortable, Shark Fin shoveled wood chips into the stove’s open belly. As he struck a match and tossed it in, he also tossed a bundle of cloth Lyric’s way.

“It’ll only take a few minutes teh warm up, but yeh look like yeh could use this now,” he told her, closing the metal door.

Lyric held up the cloth and wrapped it around herself. As she did, she realized that it, too, was a cloak. In the dim light, she could see that the outside was either a brown or reddish color, and the inner lining was some shade of purple. It was much warmer than the one she was wearing. “Thank you, Shark Fin,” she said.

“Bah, think nothin’ of it. An’ like I said, my friends call me ‘Finner’.”

“Alright then, Finner,” Lyric replied with a chuckle.

He beamed in return, and made his way over to a kitchen area. Opening an ice box, Finner called, “So, Lyric, if yeh don’t mind my askin’, what made yeh change yehr mind?”

“About what?” Lyric called back, rubbing her hooves.

“Followin’ me.” Finner opened a cabinet and pulled out two bowls, then grabbed a ladle to spoon soup into them. He kicked the door to the ice box closed, and carried the bowls over to the stove, setting them on the now-warm metal. “Back there, in the tavern, yeh didn’t seem so sure.”

“Well…” Lyric peered into the dancing flames, forming her response. “You know about stories, and I presume you know something of music as well if you can recognize an instrument as rare as mine. Besides, it seems that you have plenty of stories of your own.”

“That I do,” Finner told her, sitting beside her, handing her a bowl once it had been heated. “But who says I ain’t a scoundrel, just waitin’ teh take yehr bits while yeh sleep?”

Lyric held the bowl between her hooves. “I’ve travelled quite a bit and seen all sorts of folks. I doubt you are that type.” She smirked. “Besides, even if you were, now I know to hide them.”

Finner gave a barking laugh at that, slapping his haunch. Lyric joined him in his merriment. Soon, though, his laugh became a wracking cough, one which shook his entire body. With a worried gasp, Lyric patted his back.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Finner told her through wheezing breaths. “Can yeh fetch me a glass of water?”

Lyric hurried over to the cabinets, searching through each one until she found a cup. Holding it under the faucet, she put a hoof to the pump attached to the sink, fresh water pouring out as she worked. Returning to Finner, she placed the glass in his hoof.

“Thanks,” he murmured. He drank slowly, carefully, so as not to set off another coughing fit, Lyric assumed. “Aaah, that’s better,” he said as the last drop disappeared down his throat. He wiped his lips.

“Are you sure you are well?”

“Yeah, it happens sometimes. I’ll be fine, honest.”

“Alright…” Lyric was unconvinced, but she did not pursue the matter. The two ate their dinners in silence.

When they had finished, Finner stood up. “If yeh’re tired, I can show yeh where yeh’ll be sleepin’.”

“Yes, please,” Lyric told him, stifling a yawn.

Finner pointed to a curtain hanging from the ceiling. “Back there’s a bunk. It ain’t much, but yeh’re welcome to it.”

Hiding another yawn behind her hoof, Lyric gave her thanks. As she stood, the cloak she had borrowed slid from her shoulders to the floor. She bent to pick it up, holding it out to Finner.

He pushed it back towards her. “Nah, keep it. I ain’t got no use for it. 'Sides,” he said, motioning towards the cloak she wore now, “that thing’s about ready teh fall apart on yeh.”

Lyric gaped. “Are you certain?”

“Course I am!” Finner declared. “I mean, it ain’t got a hood, but it should serve yeh well.” Now his eyes and lips softened as he said, “Plus, it’ll be nice teh see it get some use again.”

Unsure of how to respond, Lyric held the cloak for a moment longer before making her way to the bunk. Pulling back the curtain, the moonlight shone upon her through a round window. Lyric took off her worn and tattered garment, giving it a long look before setting it aside. She hung her new cloak on a hook above her pillow and lay down. As she rolled over, she pulled the blankets over her and closed her eyes. It was not long before the rocking of the water and the songs of sea birds lulled her to sleep.

Author's Note

The story of Dashing Hoof mentioned in this chapter refers to my very first Lyric tale, The Story of the Stars.

A Good Story

“Yeh know what makes a good story, Lyric?”

As Finner said this, Lyric’s ears pricked, and her eyes sparkled. She trotted over to his side. “Besides a captivating plot and interesting characters?”

“Yeah, 'sides all that.”

The two made their way down the main road of the town, which Lyric had since learned was named Bluff. Bluff itself was not much bigger than what Lyric had seen her first night there, and in the light of day, she noticed how all of the buildings had been weathered by the sea breeze, the brown wood of each having long since turned gray. Yet, each was still standing strong. Much like this town’s inhabitants, Lyric mused as she eyed Finner, who was waving to or hailing everypony they passed.

Although Lyric would normally have moved on to another place by now, Finner’s coughing fit had worried her. She’d insisted she stay a few more days to look after him, while Finner had insisted that he was fine. “But I won’t mind the company!” he’d said at the end of their conversation, and, as far as he seemed to be concerned, that was the end of that matter. Now, here in the center of town, Lyric waited for Finner’s answer, her curiosity piqued.

Finner returned his attention to Lyric. “What really makes a good story is a hook, timin’, an’ delivery. 'Specially when yeh’re tellin’ it teh an audience.”

Lyric faced the path ahead. Her muzzle furrowed in thought. “How do you mean?” she asked after some time had passed.

“Well, hm, how teh explain it…” Finner ran a hoof through his beard. When his eyes landed on the instrument Lyric carried on her back, he stamped his hoof into the dirt below. “A good story’s just like a good piece of music. Yeh gotteh have an openin’ that’ll catch everyone’s attention. That’s yehr hook.”

“Hmmm.” Lyric tapped her chin. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Finner nodded, then continued with, “An’ just like music, yeh gotta know what comes when. Otherwise, everythin’ll be all muddled and won’t make any sense. That’s yehr timin’.”

Lyric’s ears stood straight up at this. “And what about the delivery?”

“The delivery, well, that’s a beast all on its own.” He spun and pointed a hoof at Lyric. “But if yeh can master that, yeh’ll be set.” He lowered his hoof. “Just like with music, yeh gotta know how teh really sell the piece. Yeh gotta know when teh be quiet, an’ when teh be really loud!” He shouted this last part to the sky. A nearby flock of gulls shrieked and took off, while ponies turned to see where the commotion was coming from. Lyric smothered a laugh with her hoof. Finner, however, seemed not to notice the looks.

Now Finner continued on his way, with Lyric beside him. “Yeh also gotta keep pace,” he said, “not goin’ too fast or too slow, or else yeh’ll have a mess on yehr hooves.”

“Just like with music,” Lyric said as Finner opened his mouth to speak.

“Just like with music,” he repeated, satisfaction in his voice. “But there’s one more thing yeh gotta remember, an’ it’s probably the most important thing of all.” Lyric leaned in to hear what he had to say. “If yeh make a mistake, just keep on goin’. It’ll help yeh teh think on yehr hooves, an’ maybe yeh’ll find a way teh make the tale even better than it was before.”

At this final bit of advice, Lyric halted, shying away from the stallion. “But, Finner, I don’t know how...”

Yet Finner only gave Lyric a knowing look, replying with, “Don’t worry, yeh’re smart. I know yeh can figure it out.”

Lyric fell silent at Finner’s words. She had made many mistakes telling her tale a few nights ago, and, if she was to be honest with herself, they had gotten to her. After all, these weren’t the first mistakes she had made — and not just with storytelling — nor would they be the last. How was she to simply ignore them?

Lyric was still puzzling over this when they reached the town grocer, Finner’s destination on this trip. The door creaked, and the bell above it tinkled as the two entered. A pair of colts looked up from their mother’s side, their faces brightening as they spotted the stallion.

“Finner! Finner!” they cried as they raced towards him.

Finner’s face lit up as well, and he bent down to ruffle their manes. “'Ey, lads, good teh see yeh.”

They giggled and pulled back, the bigger of the two colts asking, “Finner, can you tell us a story?”

“Yeah, can you?” The smaller one gazed up at Finner, eager. Lyric almost mirrored him, looking on with interest.

“Well… I don’t know,” Finner replied, drawing out his words, giving an exaggerated shrug.

“Aw, but you tell the best stories,” the larger one said. “Please?”

“Please?” his brother joined, giving Finner a puppy-dog-eyed look.

“Please?”

“Pleeeaaase?”

After a time, Finner spoke up. “Alright, yeh’ve got me. What story would yeh like teh hear?” As the colts cheered, the stallion gave Lyric a wink, as if to say, “Watch an’ learn.”

“Tell us the one about how you got your cutie mark, Finner,” the smaller colt said. The larger one regarded Finner with excitement.

Finner eyed them both. “What, that ol’ tale? Yeh’ve heard it a thousand times.”

The colts’ words jumbled together as they pleaded for Finner to tell his story. Admittedly, Lyric herself was curious as to how Finner had received his mark. It was one of the most elaborate she had ever seen — a three-masted ship, sails and all, surrounded by dark storm clouds — and it was much more elaborate than her own simple lute.

Finner held his hooves outward to quiet the clamor. The colts fell silent, and Finner leaned in towards his audience of two. “When I was just a young’un, only a little older than yehrselves, I was a cabin colt on a ship, the Kraken.” The colts “ooohed.” “It was a mighty fine ship, one of the swiftest on the seas! It could sail 'round the entirety of Equestria an’ its surroundin’ countries in a month flat. But sometimes bein’ swift ain’t enough.”

Finner’s voice lowered as he told the colts, “One day, a storm blew up outta nowhere. Now, this weren’t unusual out at sea, but this one was particularly nasty. An’ as yeh know, there ain’t any pegasi out at sea teh quell these storms.”

“But you had pegasi with you, right?” the larger colt asked.

“Course we did!” Finner declared, putting a fore hoof to the colt’s back. “But when they flew out, the gale tossed 'em about 'til they were almost lost, givin’ 'em no choice but teh return teh the ship. But the ship weren’t much safer than the sky.” Finner swooped his free hoof in front of him, pantomiming the waters. “Waves a hundred hooves high crashed onteh the decks, an’ the winds were tearin’ at the sails, threatenin’ teh rend ‘em from the masts.” The volume of his words rose and fell like the waves he described. “It weren’t long before the Captain was overwhelmed.” The colts gasped, their hooves covering their mouths. “Nopony else could help either, 'cause they were doin’ their best teh hold the ship tehgether. They clung teh the ropes, worked the sails, but the storm was too much. Everypony was just about convinced that they’d be swept off the boat, an’ that it’d go down with ‘em.”

Here, Finner paused. Lyric was unsure of whether he would continue when he asked his audience, “But yeh know what?”

If the colts had heard the story even half as many times as Finner claimed they had, they definitely knew what came next. But Lyric saw that the colts said nothing, watching Finner with wide-eyed anticipation.

“I rushed over an’ grabbed the wheel, even though everypony’d told me teh stay below instead. They thought I was too small teh make any difference. But, with things as they were, we needed all hooves on deck, includin’ mine. So, with the Captain an’ I at the helm, we put all our might inteh steerin’ the Kraken.” Now Finner’s voice was triumphant. “With us at the helm an' everypony workin’ tehgether, we at last broke free of the storm’s mighty grasp.” A beam of sunlight fell across Finner’s face, and he seemed to bask in it. “It weren’t until after, when we were all cheerin’ and celebratin’, that I’d noticed my cutie mark’d appeared. From then on, I knew I was meant teh live a life on the sea. An’, for a long time, that’s just what I did.”

The colts applauded and, thanking Finner, returned to their mother’s side. Their mother also gave Finner a grateful wave. Returning it, Finner set to the task of picking out the supplies he’d need for the next few days.

Yet Lyric stood where she was, reflecting on Finner’s tale, or rather, on the way he had told it. By choosing certain moments to speak quietly or boldly, by pausing now and then to draw out suspense, and adding into that the timbre of his voice, the story had ebbed and flowed. Everything about it had been masterfully done, captivating the young colts, and herself as well. And, through it all, Lyric could not help but think, It really is quite like music.

Music was something that Lyric had always enjoyed, ever since she was a filly herself, and it was something that she knew well. Stories, however, were different… or so she had thought. As with music, Lyric had always been enthralled by the stories she’d heard, whether they were bedtime tales told to her by her parents, or grand epics shared by those who had come before her. But it was one thing for her to be able to enjoy a good story, and another entirely to know how to tell one. The corners of her lips upturned as she contemplated all the ways she could put this newfound knowledge to use.

“So, ready to go?” Finner asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Lyric turned to him. “I am,” she replied.

“Say, yeh look happy.” Finner smirked. “Did yeh really enjoy my tale that much?”

“Indeed I did.” Her voice lowered as she said, “Thank you, Finner.”

Finner tilted his head in confusion. “What’re yeh thankin’ me for?”

Instead of answering him, Lyric grinned and set off up the road towards the pier. Finner shrugged and walked with her.

The two travelled side by side, Finner humming a sea shanty as they went. But, as they neared the path that would lead them to the beach, Finner’s demeanor changed. His steps slowed, his ears downturned, and his humming faded away. This was not new to Lyric, for he had done it every time they’d passed by here. Today, however, he asked, “'Ey, Lyric, mind if we make another stop?”

Hearing his tone, Lyric’s voice was gentle as she replied, “No, not at all.”

Without another word, he made his way to a spot near the top of the path, one which overlooked the ocean. If she glanced downwards, Lyric could see the pier stretching into the water, and Finner’s houseboat bobbing in the waves. But it was the stone that the stallion was staring at which currently caught her interest.

It was gray, about the size of a curled up, sleeping cat, and did not appear to be extraordinary in any way. An oval-shaped seashell rested on top of it, pink and white and spotted with brown. Lyric had seen many of these shells by the water’s edge, all in varying sizes and differing patterns of white, pink, and brown. If she picked it up and turned it over, she knew that she would find a lip that covered about three-fourths of the underside, leaving a hole at one end. She wondered why it had been left here.

Nearing the stone, Lyric could see that its surface had been carved. Peering closer, she could make out two words at the top. Lady Slipper. She glimpsed Finner out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were sorrowed, his face pained. It took a while for Lyric to gather her courage to ask him, “Who was she?”

His voice was almost inaudible. “My wife.”

Lyric’s chest tightened. Finner sank to the ground. Lyric put her fore hoof around his shoulders, and he sagged into it. Neither of them spoke.

As they sat, the sun began to fall towards the horizon. Finner raised his eyes to it. “Say, Lyric…” He breathed in deep. “How would yeh like teh hear another story?”

Finner's Tale

The sea birds flew overhead, their calls mournful. The waves washed onto the shore with a sigh. When a few moments had passed, Lyric quietly said, “I’d love to.” She had a sense that, whatever story it was that Finner was about to relay, it was one he needed to tell.

Finner motioned towards the lute that Lyric carried. “Why don’t yeh take that out?”

Lyric hurried to comply. Slinging it off of her back, she removed the oilcloth and held her lute at the ready. Although night was falling, she knew the instrument like the back of her hoof. Even in the scarce light, she would be able to play.

Finner lifted his eyes to the moon. It was a while before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was low, sonorous. “Any sailor worth their salt knows that the waters an’ the moon have a special connection. As the moon rises an’ falls in its nightly journey 'cross the sky, the waters follow it. This is why we have tides. But it weren’t always so.”

Lyric strummed the strings of her lute, a mysterious tone rising into the air. Finner closed his eyes. “A long, long time ago, there lived two alicorn siblings. Ravi, the brother, was the caretaker of the sun, raisin’ it in the mornin’ and lowerin’ it in the evenin’, while Chandra, the sister, was the caretaker of the moon, raisin’ it in the evenin’ and lowerin’ it in the mornin’. 'Cause of their abilities, they were beloved by ponies all over.”

Now an elegant melody floated into the night, one befitting the majestic alicorns. Finner’s eyes seemed to focus on something far away. “Elsewhere, in a little village by the sea, there was a unicorn named Ocean Blue. Now, Blue’d seen Chandra in passin’ a few times before, an’ he was captivated by her. But he didn’t have the courage teh talk teh her, thinkin’ that he was a lowly creature compared teh her.”

The song Lyric played changed from one of elegance to one of quiet despair. Finner swayed to the music. Whether he did it knowingly or unknowingly, Lyric could not tell. “Blue’s specialty was water magic. He could find water, or even purify it if it was unclean. So one night, just as the moon was risin’, Blue was struck with an idea.

“He travelled down teh the beach an’, with a spell of his own makin’, enchanted the water along the shore teh follow the moon. Course, Blue weren’t powerful enough teh make this last long, so he went teh the beach night after night, enchantin’ the water there so that it’d trail along in the moon’s wake. An’ night after night, Chandra took notice.”

Finner opened his eyes and pointed towards the shore, as if the phantom of Blue would appear, brought back to life after so many eons had passed. “On one particular night, as Blue was about teh leave the beach, he found Chandra standin’ by, watchin’ him.”

The notes that Lyric played next were light but wondrous, perfect for a first meeting.

“Well, Blue was in quite a shock. Even moreso when Chandra spoke teh him.” Then, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic refinement, Finner said, “‘So, I have found you at last.’” His voice returned to normal as he continued with, “Blue was dumbstruck. That was when Chandra spoke teh him again. ‘Who are you that causes the waters to follow the moon? And why have you made it so?’”

A slow, lilting tune rose from the lute, one that Lyric felt matched what Blue must have been feeling so long ago.

“In response to her questions, Blue bowed his head low an’ said, ‘My name is Ocean Blue, dear lady, and I hope you can forgive me, for I meant no harm.’

“Chandra was puzzled, but also intrigued. ‘And you have caused none,’ she told him, ‘so there is nothing to forgive. But what is the purpose of this magic?’”

“Blue hesitated,” and Finner did the same, “but he raised his head teh meet her gaze. ‘I did it because I wanted to speak with you, but I did not know how.’”

Finner gave the smallest of chuckles. “Now, Chandra was fully perplexed by this. She didn’t see herself the way Blue an’ everypony else seemed teh see her, as somepony teh be revered. So she told Blue, ‘A simple hello would have sufficed.’

“Well, Blue felt pretty foolish after that. He was about teh excuse himself when Chandra asked him, ‘Could you show me more of this magic?’ It took Blue a second, but once he understood what she wanted, he was happy teh oblige.” As he said this, Finner’s hoof swept across the sky, towards the moon. “From then on, Chandra and Blue started spendin’ more time tehgether. They formed a friendship, an’, over time, that friendship turned inteh love.

A sweet melody sounded from Lyric’s lute, but it became more dour as Finner said, “Now, Ravi’d seen all this, an’ he didn’t quite approve. But whenever he tried teh tell his sister as much, she rebuffed him. Who she loved weren’t any of his concern, she’d say. Seein’ that he wouldn’t be able teh change his sister’s mind, he eventually let the matter drop. So when Chandra came teh him with news of hers an’ Blue’s engagement, he just put a wing around her an’ said, ‘Enjoy this while you can.’

“Chandra, payin’ this no mind, was elated, an’ she raced off teh be with Blue.” A light, joyful air rose into the night. “Shortly after that, she an’ Blue were married. The two were very happy, an’ after a while, they were blessed with two daughters, both of ‘em alicorns, teh their pleasant surprise.” Here, Finner interrupted his tale, turning to Lyric for the first time since he had begun. “Any guesses as teh who they were?”

Lyric pondered this, her muzzle furrowing once more, but she soon had the answer. A hint of marvel spread across her countenance. “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

“That’s right.” Finner stared out to sea again. “The four of 'em had many happy years tehgether, spendin’ time as a family. But, sadly, it didn’t last.” Finner glanced to Lady’s stone. “Alicorns, as far as we can tell, are immortal. But Blue, bein’ a unicorn, was not. His family watched him age as the years went by. An’ then, as all us mortal folk do, he passed away.”

Lyric’s heart ached for Blue, and for those he had left behind. She played a somber tune.

“Chandra an’ their daughters buried Blue by the seaside, where the two’d first met. Their sad task done, they stood tehgether as Chandra began teh sing.”

At this, Finner’s voice fell silent. Lyric stilled her lute’s strings. Once she had, Finner hummed. His humming started low, resounding into the night. He tapped his hooves on the ground to keep time. When he sang, his voice was clear, strong.

Sleep now, dear one
Here beside the sea
Sleep now and forever
Your spirit is set free

Free to dance upon the gale
And to skip on each wave
You will never end your tale
Alone in your grave

For the waters are your spirit
The birds’ cries are your song
And the moon will always guide you
In your journey on

So sleep now, dear one
Here beside the sea
Sleep now and forever
Your spirit is set free

The song faded, carried away by the salty ocean wind. Lyric sat, unmoving, the last notes still resonating within her. There was a new rasp to Finner’s voice when he spoke again. “In a final tribute teh Blue, the three alicorns combined their magic. With a spell much like the one that Blue’d used, Chandra an’ her daughters enchanted the world’s waters so that they’d always follow after the moon.” Now Finner gave a snort as he told Lyric, “It’s also said that their tears’re what turned the oceans salty, but between you an’ me, I think that’s poetic nonsense.”

Finner quieted once more. He lifted his head. “It weren’t long after that when chaos broke out in Equestria. Course, everypony who was willin’ an’ able, includin’ most of the alicorns, went teh lend their aid. Chandra was torn, though. She wanted teh help, an’ she couldn’t bear teh let others suffer, but she had two daughters teh take care of. Knowin’ this, her daughters made the difficult decision teh give their mother their blessings. After a tearful goodbye, Chandra left teh join the cause.”

Finner shook his head, his voice heavy. “None of us regular pony folk really know what happened teh Chandra after that. Some say she fell in battle 'gainst the beasts that rampaged 'cross Equestria before her daughters took up their crowns. Others say she’s still out there, somewhere, watchin’ over us. But I like teh think that, wherever she is, she an’ Blue are tehgether again, somehow.”

The moon shone down on the two companions. Now it was Lyric who gazed upon it, and she was filled with a new sense of awe. Yet she hadn’t looked upon it long when Finner began to cough. Alarmed, Lyric reached for him, but he waved her away.

It was not much later that his coughing subsided. Catching his breath, he spoke. “Promise me somethin’, Lyric.” He turned, staring into her eyes, his voice full of conviction. “Promise me that, no matter what happens teh yeh, yeh’ll keep yehr head held high.” He turned away, his words softening. “'Cause if yeh can do that, I know yeh’ll be able teh get through anythin’ life throws at yeh.”

In that moment, Lyric could see just how careworn Finner really was, how deep the wrinkles around his eyes were, how fragile he appeared. He seemed so different than the old but spry stallion she had first met in the tavern. Here, under the moonlight, he merely seemed old. Was this the real Finner? Or was it the one she had seen in town, in the tavern?

Lyric wrapped her forelegs around Finner, holding him as tight as she dared. He mindlessly patted her hoof. A few tears escaped from her eyes as she whispered, “I promise, Finner. I promise.”

Nodding once, Finner watched as the moon’s reflection danced and sparkled in the waves. The two stayed as they were, saying nothing, well into the night.

Author's Note

Many thanks to MelancholyIguana for his assistance with the song lyrics.

From Finner

“Finner, guess what!” Lyric cried as she pushed open the houseboat’s door. Bits clinked together as she moved, her cloak weighed down by her coin pouch. The tavern had been full of revelers that night. The houseboat, however, was still. Lyric sheepishly slipped in, moving carefully so as not to disturb the stallion.

The stove was out. Lyric looked upon it, her ears standing alert. Even while he slept, Finner kept the stove on low so that he would have heat in his home. The chips must have burnt away. This was quite likely, Lyric decided, and so she bent to open the stove door.

The metal was cold to the touch. Not surprising, Lyric told herself. Yet, for some reason, her senses were on edge. As she fumbled for the shovel, her hoof bumped against the handle, and it fell over with a CLANG!

Lyric winced at the sound. She dropped to the floor to feel for the shovel in the dark. As the ringing of metal faded away, she realized what was wrong.

The houseboat was silent.

Finner was not usually one to travel out late at night, not unless he was taking part in the merriment at the tavern. But he had not been there, nor had she passed by him on her journey back. And if he had been sleeping, she would have heard his snores when she returned, or at least he would have started when the shovel fell.

Lyric’s heart hammered in her chest. “Finner?” she called again, her voice rising. No answer. He must be visiting Lady. Yes, that has to be it, Lyric thought as she raced to his bedside.

Like her bunk, Finner’s bed was sheltered behind a curtain. She put a hoof to it, screwing her eyes shut. Steeling herself, she pulled it open.

There Finner lay, the moonlight shining upon him through the window above his bed. His back was towards her. He was motionless, and he made no sound.

“F-Finner?” Lyric’s voice shook as she approached.

In his hooves, Finner held the portrait of a mare. Her coat was a pale pink, spotted with brown. Her mane was white, flowing. Lyric reached out to it. Still he did not move. Her hoof trembled, and she pulled it back. Although she wished she could deny it, she knew that Finner, her friend, was gone. Lyric’s legs buckled underneath her, and she sank to the floor. Her forehead rested against Finner’s bedside. With her fore hooves wrapped tightly around herself, Lyric wept.

~*~

Finner was carried up the path from the beach to where Lady lay. A fresh hole had been dug beside her. Lyric, and all of the ponies from Bluff, watched, solemn, as Finner was laid to rest. Once this was done, ponies came forward to share some anecdote of or to pay their respects to their beloved comrade.

Lyric waited until she was the last to go. Stepping out of the crowd, she walked towards Lady’s stone. Lifting the seashell nestled atop it with her hoof, she beheld it with a kind of reverence before placing it on Finner’s casket. “Wherever you are, I hope that you and she are together again.” Her voice caught as she spoke.

Wiping her eyes, she moved back to the space between the ponies and Finner’s resting place. Lyric took her lute up into her hooves and played a few chords, readying herself. When she had, she sang.

Sleep now, dear one
Here beside the sea
Sleep now and forever
Your spirit is set free

Free to dance upon the gale
And to skip on each wave
You will never end your tale
Alone in your grave

For the waters are your spirit
The birds’ cries are your song
And the moon will always guide you
In your journey on

So sleep now, dear one
Here beside the sea
Sleep now and forever
Your spirit is set free

Towards the end, Lyric fought to keep her voice steady. Finner had only sung the song once, but she had spent hours with her lute, recalling the words and working out the melody. She could think of no better way to honor her friend.

Those gathered thanked her, many with tears in their eyes. And then, one by one, they made their ways back into town. All except for a single stallion. Turning to Lyric, he held out an envelope. “Here,” he said. “It’s for you.” With quiet gratitude, Lyric took it. Once she had, the stallion turned to the task of burying Finner.

After a moment, Lyric made her way down the road towards Bluff. Before she reached the town, she paused, surveying the area around her. Seeing that she was alone, she set to inspecting the envelope. Her name was written on the outside. She did not recognize the writing, but she was intrigued. Opening it, she pulled out a piece of parchment. The words were a slanted scrawl, but still legible enough for her to read.

Lyric, it said,

I dunno if I’ll get the chance teh tell yeh this, but I wanted yeh teh know that I believe in yeh. Yeh’re quite the musician, an’ yeh’re gonna be a darn fine storyteller teh boot.

Yeh’re gonna go far, Lyric. I can tell. I’m sorry I won’t be there teh see it. But don’t cry for me. Just keep movin’, an’ always remember teh keep yehr head held high.

From,

Finner

Her eyes watered as she read. Tears streamed down Lyric’s cheeks, landing on the paper she held. These were Finner’s last words to her, ones he felt were important enough for her to see. And he, with all his years, all his experience, all his wisdom, he believed in her. She hugged the letter to her chest. Thank you, Finner. She turned in the direction of the ocean. The wind blew off of it, towards her. She breathed in the scent of its brine. Seagulls flew overhead, their calls filling her ears. Through her tears, she smiled. I’ll always remember you. She brushed her hoof across her eyes, her cheeks, and tucked the letter into her cloak. Her task complete, she stood, stepping back onto the road. I will keep moving, Finner. She looked up to the sky. And I will always keep my head held high.

Lyric took off down the road, passing through Bluff a final time, exchanging farewells with those she met along the way. But she did not stop, not until she was far along the path. When she did, she turned, taking one last, long look at the seaside town.

From here, she could see it all: the weathered buildings, the main road, and, fading off into the distance, the ocean. She imagined that, if she looked towards the water hard enough, she would be able to see the houseboat, and the place where two ponies now lay. After many moments, she tore her gaze away. It was time for her to move on.

Author's Note

Many thanks once again to MelancholyIguana for his assistance with the song.

Moving On

Another town, another tavern. Drinks flowed freely, and spirits were high. It was the perfect setting for a story, and, of course, for a little music. The mare in the corner smiled, strumming her lute’s strings. As she did, nearby patrons turned her way.

Seeing that she had their attention, Lyric smiled. “Good evening, everypony.” Her voice was clear, ringing into the crowd. She strummed again. “On a cloudless night such as this one, the moon hangs high above us, shining for all to see. And, all over the world, the waters follow its path, for the waters and the moon have a special connection. But… do you know why this is so?”

A curious murmur rose among the listeners. Lyric’s smile turned into a grin. “Well, then, gather 'round, for the tale is about to begin…”

THE END