Chapters The Tale of the Butterfly - A Fairy-Tale
Ch. 1 - The Mare and the Butterfly
The Tale of the Butterfly
A Fairy-Tale
written by
Dandelo
original language
German
original title
Wie aus dem Schmetterling ein Drache wurde
Once upon a time there was a small village way beyond all hill and dale that is remembered by no one. In this village that was surrounded by old beeches that towered over all, seemingly grazing the clouds above them, there lived an old pegasus with his wife. In his youth, the stallion had been a passionate gardener, taking care of his garden beds and looking over all that grew in his vicinity - and as he grew older his eyes turned grey, the wings which he used to bolt through the sky were strong no more, but jaded and faint, and what once has been a resilient back was now bent from the years passed. His spouse too, beautiful in her very own simplicity and prudent and dear, suffered from the ailments of a long life. But it mattered little to them, for as long as they were together happiness was with them.
They had been together since when they were young - a humble home they called their own, even though the roof was leaky and the walls skew, yet at dawn they kissed each other good morning and at dusk they kissed each other good night when the sun embedded itself in a crimson hue, casting the beeches’ shadows dark and heavy upon the village. Little did they possess and yet they offered to share it with everypony in need if they but knocked on the door; then the old couple invited that somepony to a warm soup and words of confidence and aid. There was but one thing the mare did not intend to share or trade with anypony: it was the splinter of a jewel girded by the crystal of a mountain that she kept in a little tight box beneath her sheets. All ponies from far and wide seemed to know the elderly couple. When they walked the streets of their village they were greeted with love and friendliness. Every once in a while some of them left flowers on the threshold of their miserable hut where the light fell through blind windows, barely revealing what was inside: then the mare picked the flowers from the ground, her smile wandering down the paths and thinking “to whom it may concern”.
Day followed day, spring followed winter, and the stallion grew uneasy. With gloomy eyes tacked to the horizon, he said:
“The current of the clouds is getting quicker every day for me now. Soon there will be a waft to take me away into lands far from here. Love, you who stood by my side over the countless years, will be left alone and you’ll have to bid me farewell. But don’t you cry for me so my memories of you and your beauty will bring me happiness in what lies beyond, and I’ll be there waiting for you. Never was there a thing that would make me happier than to look into those golden eyes of yours, but still I find agony in the thought of never being able to raise a son or a daughter of our own - this I regret.”
The mare grasped his hoof and caressed his greyed mane, but remained silent. A single silvery tear made its way down her cheek onto the ground, where it climbed down some blades of grass until it was drunk by the thirsty earth beneath. Night broke soon after and the stallion and the mare lay with another one last time, and the folk soon noticed that she was bearing a child. A miracle they called it and a miracle it was as if the faithful stallion’s life long wish had been granted by forces not known to any of them. Alas he did not live to see his child. It was mere hours before birth when he opened his eyes for a last time, his hoof searching that of his wife, and when she found it in her blissful sleep she tightened the grip and didn’t let go and didn’t realise how her husband took his final breath, absorbing the smell of her hair and kissing her on the forehead, before he slowly - slowly, but not sad - sunk into twilight, through twilight into cleansing night to wash him free from all that has been bad in his life until he finally arrived in the garden of song and light.
The day after, a loving mother embraced a beautiful child wound in a hoof-knitted blue blanket, viewing it tenderly. “Such a beauteous face”, the mare sighed. “Slick features without any blot. You need but a name. How proud your father would have been if he could have seen you in your precious perfection. But deep inside of me I know he’s watching from above and smiling at you.”
As if to prove what she just had said, a hole formed between the clouds, allowing a single ray of sunlight to shine through the window and right upon the filly, covering it in a colorful spectacle. With all the colors dancing on her one could have thought of the blue blanket as the azure sky and the colors as those of the dawn painting the edge of the world. “Your father is with us, dear”, the mare said. “So he caught a glimpse of you after all. Just listen to the wind outside: this is his laughter, and the light is the gown in which he dresses you. Now I know - Sungown shall be your name and there will be no mare more fair than you.”
But it was not long after that misery struck the village as its residents had long wondered how it could be that it did not rain for weeks on end with dry winds coming from the south that brought no comfort, but dust and sand, tearing the branches off the beeches that stood silently against the world. Soon they realised that a drought was ravaging their beloved homeland. Grass withered away, plants died, the rivers and brooks became shallower and shallower, and the woods went silent: neither a bird’s song nor the careful snooping of a fox could be heard as if the animals had already left this part of the world. The old mare used to watch over Sungown all day and all night all the while the filly developed a feverish heat that burnt her from the inside out. The mare did what she could, but to no avail as her beloved daughter grew weaker every day. With all salubrious herbs dying from the draught the mare went from house to house begging for help for dear Sungown, not unlike she and her husband had provided it over the years, and yet she was shunned by her neighbours as though they did not recognize her. There was no help nor bliss nor confidence, no flowers to be put on the threshold and without that no smile to be send down the streets. “This is how they repay you”, the old mare uttered, “you’re of no worth after all these years and invisible to them. But I cannot blame them for their behavior. Each of them has loved ones to look after on their own. Even if they could, none of them would be able to save my child. I’m left with no other choice: I shall leave this village, praying to find someone along the road to take care of her.” Thus she packed that little what remained of her belongings and, passing the beeches along the way, left her home for the very first time in her life. With her, covered in her blue blanket, Sungown peacefully slept despite her condition. Blessed be the child too young to know of the world and its grief!
Many days and nights the old mare wandered about, but for long she had been gone now, nopony could tell: could have been one week, ten days, or more. Under open skies the two of them slept, watched only by myriads of blinking stars as if they resembled eyes, and not one cloud gave the desiccated earth what it longed for the most. Yet after a while the old mare noticed how the bushes were filled with life again and how the grass became greener the further she was from her village. Soon she came to find a narrow river that led her into the heart of the country. Cold and brisk, the water proofed to cure Sungown from her fever, and the old mare sighed in relief and gratefully looked up into the sky because she knew that the sun that was burning the earth was also full of the mercy and the love of her departed husband. But as time went on, weakness began to grip the old mare - not only of the body, but of the mind as well. More often than before would she lie down in the somber shadow of a tree, a hill, or even a shrub, and as the shadow crept along the ground, so did the old mare. Her hooves were hurting, her lungs aching, her back creaking. And the weariness! Not the kind one would expect after lang days of marching. This one was incisive, crippling, obscuring her wit and clouding her vision, it snuck up her limbs with a terrifying cold that made her shiver even though it was hot during the days that were followed by mild nights.
The old mare thought by herself: “This is the longing of my husband that’s tearing me apart. Soon I cannot take it any longer: Then I will follow him. I can feel death inching closer and closer. Alas I can’t leave my little Sungown alone! Without me she will starve and I shall not meet her up there without her living a life of happiness.” Thus the old mare wept. Not one single pony did she meet on her path and the mere thought of the distance that must lie between her and the village she had left let her lose all hope. Lost in her sorrow, she did not notice how the sweetest music swole, and it was only after a dozen of voices started singing that she looked up - only to find what turned out to be a big swarm of butterflies dazzling in the sunlight, wafting through the air near the banks of the river she had followed. Playfully they spun and sang and laughed and cheered as if no grief in the world could ever come to them! Displaying their mellow, vitreous wings, the swarm danced on even the tiniest breeze, giving the flowers surrounding them a nudge every now and then, and the flowers nodded in drowsy agreement.
Mesmerized, the old mare stood up. “Hear me, you butterflies, buoyant and pied! “, she whispered, for even a sudden thump could hurt the tiny ears of a butterfly. “Allow me to speak, I beg of you, I need your help!”
At first, the swarm didn’t seem to take any interest in her. And just has she thought they’d ignore her, the swarm surprisingly gathered around her and plunged the old mare in a kaleidoscope of ever changing patterns. And from that pattern, a voice clearly spoke:
“Look, look! A pony is this and a very old at that! What does she seek so far off from everything all by herself, I wonder?”
“Why are you blind?”, a second voice chimed in. “She’s not alone. There’s a second one right there, hiding in the blanket.”
“A newborn”, a third voice spotted before adding: “What do you want? What do you desire?”
“It is true”, the pegasus replied. “Old I am, weak and almost blind. My life is coming to a close, but it is my daughter I fear for. You see, I was hoping to find a new home for her, however, I could not find one, and once I am gone, she will be alone - that would be her death. So I beg of you, kind, generous butterflies, take her in and raise her as your own to grant her a new life! It’d eat at my heart to know she is not safe.”
Some of the butterflies inched ever so close to take a better look at the filly. “What is her name? How do you call her?”, they asked softly.
“When she was born, all colors of the light did she wear. Therefore is Sungown her name.”
“A strange name, even for a pony”, replied the second voice. “No animal do I know of that ever had such a name, and no animal do I know of that made light its dress.”
“Then she’ll be the first”, the mother lovingly remarked. “My daughter is such animal; she will grow into a fine, gorgeous child to you. That is, of course, if you decide to keep her. A drought drove us from our home and we were searching for a new one ever since. You are her last resort: Deny her and she will die at her mother’s side.”
For a moment, the swarm grew unpleasantly silent. Then the voice spoke again: “We are fleeing the drought, too. My tribe is on its way to the rich meadows from where we came back then, right beyond those hills you see. Bring your daughter there and we will be her new family and raise her in the way of the butterflies, as we did for centuries.”
And with that, big tears streamed down the elderly pony’s face. “I thank you, I thank you, oh by the heavens I thank all of you. One last venture - so be it. After that, I’ll be gone, and you, precious butterflies, will have my undying gratitude.”
The butterflies knew how to shorten the journey with their pretty voices as they sang of joy and felicity. The old mare could think of nothing but her daughter, though, and as soon as they arrived, she handed her to the butterfly she had spoken to earlier: Sayay was her name, and her wings were of a marvellous red and white and black. Two things the old mare left her child: The blue blanket she had knitted in the months before Sungown’s birth, and the jewel she’d kept through all her life. “She ’s my life now”, she calmly uttered, “and where I’m headed it won’t be of value anymore.”
As the sun sunk behind the trees of the forest that surrounded the butterflies’ meadow, the butterflies saw how the old mare gave her daughter one last warm kiss. Because such is a mother’s love: warm and gentle and fond in any way. She then bid Sayay and the others farewell. Silence overcame the swarm, a rare event that only occurred to those fairy-like creatures under one of two circumstances: in times of desperate sorrow, or of deep, honest sympathy.
Moved by her actions, they watched as the old mare walked deeper into the darkness. After a while she was but a silhouette - then a shadow - then nothing. None of them ever learned of how or where her life ended, but, deep inside of them, they knew of whom she was thinking of.
Twelve years passed in the blink of an eye and the meadow lived in immense prosperity, with grass as green as ever and water clean and shimmering in the sun. The soil here was deep and fertile, the winter was mild and the summer as beautiful as it was magnificent. Nature blossomed after every shower, revealing nature’s sheer creativity in all facets; on sunny days however, the air was so clean that you could see snow covered tops of the far-off mountains, sneaking a peek at eternal ice that never would melt, no matter what. No minute did the meadow see that was not filled with abundance - and the shadow of the drought that had dried out the lands of the south could not reach this mythical landscape.
The butterflies lived peacefully in their haven, and Sungown lived among them. Keeping her promise, Sayay had raised her as one of her own. Everyone seemed to like Sungown, this butterfly that was so different from what they’ve known: Bigger than anyone in the swarm, she was tall enough to sniff at the blooms of small trees; her shadow was so large that over a dozen butterflies could find shelter from the sun; her appearance overall did not resemble that of a butterfly at all! The older butterflies of course knew that she was, in fact, a young pony, and a pegasus at that. The younger ones however thought of her as a sister - and thus, a butterfly. Sungown even felt like one: As far as she was concerned, she was a butterfly and did not wish to be anything - or anyone - else. “Why should my looks bother me?”, she said to her mother one morn as she had questioned her stepdaughter about it, and, laughing, Sungown added: “After all, you might be the strange ones as well!”
And the way was always the same.
No one treated her differently - she had always been a member of the swarm, no matter how you’d put it, and thus learned their customs and adapted to their traditions as well as to their illustrious, playful behavior. She sang their songs, danced their dances, became soft - yet one thing set her apart from the others: her curiosity. No hour would pass without her asking about the reason behind this thing and that oddity. Quite a lot did it happen that she ventured into the forest, only to return with the setting sun, branches in her mane and dirt on her fur, and you could usually tell from the glow in her eyes if she had succeeded in learning something new. That is why, even in young age, Sungown had seen much and learned more to the degree that none of her family or friends could teach her anything she didn’t already know.
Adding to her bursting mind she was blessed with a stunning beauty. The bright green of her coat was akin to the rich grass beneath her hooves, her petite body was slender and flexible like young sprouts on a tree; her eyes resembled fiery rubies that caught every flicker of light and made them shimmer; her tail was short and her mane undone, drifting in the gentle breeze, streaks of her orange hair that reminded one of the sun at dawn fondled her adequate face up to her nostrils that were sprinkled with freckles. Streaks of yellow and red in her mane caused the flock of nearby birds to give her a special nickname - Leafhead, as the colors were like those of the leaves once fall came around. Sungown soon found the name to be rather fitting and laughed at the mention of it, disregarding her mother’s disapproving words. “What is a name anyway? It says nothing about how or what I am and is but a sign, similar to how we call a tree tree and a river river. Never did a name change the thing it stood for.”
Life was placid in the meadow. They did not know anguish nor worry, as it has always been, and that could have been the end of the story.
The curious mind can never have enough. It seeks the knowing of all details and is occupied by the reasons behind them. Sungown, knowing all the details of the meadow and their reasons, craved for more and soon found herself to be bored. By everything. The most glamorous days were too bright and the calmest of nights too cold, food was dull, and she started to avoid her friends as they did not prove to be diverting company as she had hoped for: Just how could they live everyday like the last, replicating the same old jog without ever exploring the possibilities of their minds? No butterfly shared her curiosity, for they had lived their tiny, beautiful lives with joy and felicity since the dawn of time and would continue to do so until the end. Sungown longed for more. Agitation was building inside her, a natural characteristic of her race, but hard to describe in the words of a butterfly.
And yet there was one thing that weighed more on her heart than anything: Though twelve years of age, Sungown didn’t know how to fly. From above, she thought to herself, the world must be yours for the taking. Days on end would she spend staring into the azure sky, watching the slow current of the clouds as they drifted towards the horizon… wishing to be there with them. Unfortunately no teacher seemed to be able to show her the right way: Since a butterfly’s wings were petty and their bodies small, they could simply fly with the very next breath of air. A pegasus however must learn how to coordinate the muscles on her back and build up enough strength to lift off. Because of that, Sungown consulted the birds, but still to no avail: Though similar in appearance, the way of the birds was not that of the pitiful pegasus, and she grieved over her inability to fulfill her greatest wish.
Sayay watched her daughter as she seemingly fell apart bit by bit. She had learned to love her as if she was her own, and thus she had come to fret the day that she now knew was right upon them. That fateful evening, after Sungown had returned home - long had she stood on a lonely hill, wings spread to the fullest, in anticipation of a breeze that’d be strong enough to pick her up -, she awaited her daughter by her bedside. The daughter lay down and the mother hopped on her hoof, glancing at her lovingly. “What your heart wants and what it needs are not always one and the same, my child”, Sayay said.
“I need my family”, Sungown answered after some time.
“Yet you yearn for something entirely different. You yearn for the world since we cannot give you what you desire most.”
“It’s true. I want to learn how to fly - I’ve got to. Still… I am afraid. I’ve never been alone, ever.” It was then that Sayay noticed Sungown’s silent tears. She comforted her daughter and said the following:
“Nobody is ever truly alone as long as someone remains to remember her by: She who is gone is always followed by the wishes and thoughts of those who have watched her go. Those are the ones she loves, and she is the one they love. To think of you leaving breaks my heart in ways I’ve never imagined, but because I love you so, so much I am trying to persuade you: go. I know of your pain. And I also know that, somewhere, there will be a master who will teach you the art of flight. One thing I ask of you: Never ever shall you forget who you are and whence you came so that you may return one day, not the same butterfly that left, but more. You will always be my daughter and I could never stop loving you. That is all.”
Not once did Sayay lie to her daughter; yet when the swarm gathered to see Sungown off she couldn’t stand to tell her the truth about the old mare that once brought a little filly to them.
Tearful was the departure. Her friends hugged her thoroughly and sang songs for her. Flowers were woven into the feathers of her wings and bright ribbons into her mane. Sungown said goodbye to every single one of them. On the inside she was torn but she felt that it had to be done for her to grow. A new world lay before her, unknown to the filly with the butterfly’s past: She could not wait to discover it. With her she wore the knitted blue blanket she was wound in as a newborn - as she had grown, she started using it as a kerchief -, a brooch in form of a splinter of a jewel girded by the crystal of a mountain as well as her name and the memories of a happy youth in the meadows of the butterflies. She was a part of them.
The Tale of the Butterfly - A Fairy-Tale
Ch. 2 - The Queen and the Dragonfly
With every step she took she travelled further from the meadow that was her home and into the unknown. Scared to be alone, she found courage in the growing feeling of confidence that was building up inside her. Driven by her curiosity, she began to study all things that were new to her, such as strange plants and the cries of animals she now heard for the first time. And how the shifting countryside amused her! At night the sounds rose: branches cracked, leaves clicked, and yellow eyes in the shadows were seemingly following her. Sungown lay down fighting the cold, listening to the undying moan of the earth. She paid close attention. Nothing here could scare her. At least that’s what she told herself over and over again.
After five days the dark forest that clinged to the slopes of the mountains was already close. The air was more frigid. One night she found herself resting beneath an oak that must have been over a century old, and though she had arranged a more or less comfortable bed of dried leaves she did not sleep. The sound of the earth was different to the degree that it bothered her not knowing what in the world would cause those strange sounds? At long last she got up and wandered about through the light of the full moon. Still everywhere she turned, the gnawing and scraping and murmuring did not stop. Exhausted, she dropped to the ground with hooves tucked in her ears. “I just can’t take it anymore!”, she exclaimed. “This world is oh so anxious! Please go to sleep like everyone else!”
When a voice answered, Sungown jumped right to her hooves. “We can’t sleep as well. We’re just like you”, is what it said.
“We?”, Sungown asked the unknown visitor. “How many of you are there?”
“Four. Or five if we count you in. Five tiny souls lost in the forest.”
“I’m not lost. I’m just tired. But something always keeps me awake.”
“We can’t sleep as well”, the voice reiterated as a second one added: “We’re cold and scared.”
After following the voices for a little while, Sungown discovered their origin in a hole in the ground right between the roots of the oak she had made camp under. As she look down, four pairs of eyes looked back. “Come on out. I won’t harm you.” Stepping aside, she made way to four young rabbits hunched up timidly as they emerged from the ground. “So you’re the little troublemakers that keep me from sleeping”, she sighed.
“We dug this burrow because we lost our way”, the oldest replied - his was the voice that had spoken first.
“For how long have you been away from home?”
“Two days!”, a third one cried. “We don’t know what to eat.”
“And we’re cold”, the fourth rabbit - the smallest - said.
Pity came over her heart. “Now, now, don’t be scared. My name is Sungown and I will protect you. Right after sunrise we’ll look for your home. I shall return you to your family.”
With that said, the rabbits snuffled the nightly breeze with their tiny noses. Shivering from the cold, Sungown told them to cuddle up to her to find some comfort and rest. But even after spreading her wings and covering the young ones under her feathers they were still shaking. Here she took the blue blanket she was wearing as a kerchief and tore it apart until four equally large pieces were assembled to cover the rabbits with. Minutes later they were sleeping peacefully.
After some time had passed, Sungown looked up and into the shadows. “Reveal yourself, now, don’t be shy”, she whispered. “I can see well in the darkness and the moonlight makes your whole body shimmer. Are you to be feared? No, I don’t think so - if so, you would have attacked long ago. But why are you in hiding then?”
“My deepest apologies”, a quiet voice answered as the speaker appeared from the twilight: it was a dragonfly. “Since the kits were already asleep I did not want to bother them. I did not intend to scare you, either. For that I beg your pardon. But you see, I know them, and I know their mother. I came across your camp by chance and looked closely as you tore up your kerchief. Tomorrow I will lead them home. All tribe was looking for them. What a relief!”
“How nice of you, dear dragonfly. Please, do tell me your name so I can thank you for your service.”
“Lousy they call me - named after those lousy songs I use to sing. My voice is rough course; no one ever bothers to listen to me longer than necessary.”
“I like you, Lousy”, Sungown remarked. “Do you mind singing me one of your songs tomorrow? I don’t care how awful you sound. All life did I only listen to the beauteous voices of my family. I’m eager to learn what a lousy voice may sound like! But you must forgive me - the day was long and the night is short. Let me shut my eyes for a moment.”
Lousy sat down on a tulip nearby. “True, in due time the sun will show. I will guard your dreams like you guard my precious little children, young pony.”
But Sungown couldn’t hear a word he was saying: the moment she closed her eyes, she was fast asleep. The next day quickly came and the rabbits were delighted to find Lousy sitting next to them. “High time we head home”, he hollered. The trail Lousy showed them was covered in undergrowth, easily overlooked by those who paid no attention. The rabbits played and laughed, running and hopping through the grass and - from time to time - encircling the dragonfly in chanting:
Lousy, Lousy, flying fuzz!
Lousy, Lousy, sing to us!
Lousy, Lousy, tiny thing!
Show us, show us how to sing!
Whereat Lousy darted from one rabbit ear to the other as swift as an arrow (as it was the art of the dragonflies) and began to sing one silly song after the other, each of which earned him cackling laughter; by far the most beloved song was this one:
The dog will always aim to jest,
And stands at five feet tall,
He holds his legs tight to his chest
Afraid to lose ‘em all,
He likes to rest, at that he’s best,
Behold the dog that aims to jest!
After all that running and jumping, the rabbits soon tired and explained that they needed a rest. They came to a small river and stopped. Within seconds, the kits fell asleep.
“The mother”, Lousy told her, “will reward you amply for finding her sons. She is old and harsh and would have given anything to bring them back home safe and sound. When the sun reaches its peak we will arrive at the palace. Until then you ought to think of a gift that you see fit.”
“A palace, you say? The mother is that rich, is she not?”
“Indeed she is. She is prosperous and watches over all that live under her reign. No fox nor falcon dare to enter her realm. They paid respect to her father and now to her. She is the Queen of the Grove.”
“I pulled four little princes out of the earth, then!”, Sungown exclaimed in laughter.
The Queen of the Grove’s empire was a vast valley that lay blithely in between deep chasms. A light forest bustled at the very center of said valley, and within the forest an ancient tree stood, older and bigger than any other tree, with bark rutted and branches knotty. The tree’s roots reached far into the ground and the leaves were of a striking crimson red, and when the wind rustled them it appeared as though the voice of an immensely old being spoke. Il-Frawith the rabbits called him, the Old Whisperer. They believed that as long as the Old Whisperer continued murmuring in his ominous way no harm would come over their home.
Lousy led the group to the grove’s border where two grimly looking badgers patrolled. Under the guidance of the badgers they wandered down a path hemmed by golden flowers. Long rods were planted on the ground before them with colored lanterns on top; at nightfall they were to be ignited to keep the darkness at bay. Their path continued to take them deeper and deeper underground and, passing an enriched gateway, the group finally entered the palace. Here a large hall awaited them with walls high and ornamented pillars that reached up to the ceiling. Sungown was marvelled by the view: Though deep beneath the surface, the ceiling was entirely made from the roots of what must have been the Old Whisperer as they wreathed their way around. Soft fabric covered the ground and as Sungown looked around, she found even more pillars, smaller and crested, showing wonderful effigies and a language she could not read. The badgers brought them to a massive throne carved out of some yellow wood at the very end of the hall, kneeled and then stepped aside at the sound of fanfares and trombones. Standing left of the throne, a red squirrel proudly hold up a magnificent banner. The Queen of the Grove proofed to be an old wrinkled rabbit with long ears that hang down to her feet sitting on what Sungown imagined to be an uncomfortable seat. And though of old age, Sungown could not have thought otherwise of her than as a queen. Undying sublimity radiated from her whole appearance that set her apart from all animals she had ever seen.
Lousy bowed before Her Majesty and presented her suddenly well-behaved sons that lined up left to right in order oldest to youngest. Thus the queen went on her knees and her sons jumped high into the air before running up to their beloved mother, kissing her passionately and hugging her of soil smelling fur to the delight of her subjects that crowded the hall. In return the queen kissed each of them on the cheek as her face softened and tears flooded her vigilant eyes. She then stood up and gave the chamberlain a signal - a mole emerged from the crowd and took the princes by the paw to bring them to their chambers. Again Lousy bowed and started to inaugurate her in what had happened: How the princes had lost their way in the forest, seeking shelter underneath an oak where Sungown happened to stumble upon them; Sungown, as Lousy claimed several times, comforted the kits rather thoroughly, even tearing apart her blanket to keep them warm (here he handed her the pieces to proof his words true and pointed at Sungown, who kneeled every time her name was mentioned even though she didn’t think of it as a necessity). The queen listened closely without asking any questions. Once the dragonfly had finished, she stood silent for a few more seconds before saying:
“From my father I inherited all the riches of this valley and the influence it is shrouded in. Yet I felt as poor as the poorest mouse when I found my sons to be missing. Empty is the heart of a mother deprived of her children. But now they have returned, all thanks to you, dear Sungown. And for that you have my gratitude.”
“It was sheer luck that led me to them, Your Majesty”, Sungown quickly responded. “We would have never been able to find the way were it not for Lousy who searched far and wide for them, even in the uncertainty of the night. His love for the princes is as big as yours. He deserves the praise more than I do.”
“Your modesty honors you. Though it appears you don’t know who you’re talking to. As Queen of the Grove I meet generosity with friendliness, loyalty with love, and courage with honor. You saved my children. As a token of my gratitude I’ll allow you to pick one thing - one thing, whatever it may be - from any chamber of my palace; it shall be yours.”
“Your Highness, nothing is there in your realm that I desire. No treasure do I wish for and I do not envy another soul for what he possesses. I am a honorable butterfly and have no need for any valuables. Your gratitude is what I’ll take, not more.”
The queen though fostered a deeply hatred towards the butterflies and their frivolous lives without any rule or standard, but she did find a liking a that humble pony and thought of her words as a joke - why on earth should she call herself a butterfly after all? Bursting into laughter, she uttered: “Phenomenal! A butterfly is what you are, but there are none in my kingdom. If you want to stay - to this I invite you wholeheartedly - you must become a rabbit. You may stay as long as you wish, or until you’ve decided on what I can grant you. I’ll have the maids prepare a room for your own.”
“Is it possible for me”, Sungown thought, “to become a rabbit? I won’t, probably, dig any holes and doubt I could ever outrun a rabbit, but to learn how they think and how they behave? How wonderful it’d be to find out!” Then she quickly replied: “There’s no telling of how much of a rabbit I’ll proof to be in the end, but if it’s a rabbit your expect for a guest a rabbit shall I become. Or give it my best shot, at least.”
Thus it was decided. Sungown was assigned a nice chamber in a quiet wing of the palace near the surface. For the first time in her life she slept on velvet cushions and watched Il-Frawith at sunset through a window in the ceiling as his leaves followed the motions of the breeze. (He spoke to her in her dreams and it took her a while until the songs of the earth had been replaced by fairy-tales mumbled in his beautiful soothing voice.) Lousy showed her all corners of the realm. At first the forest and its inhabitants whose names Sungown swiftly learned; then the valley, and Sungown memorised every single path; finally the borders: the chasms that shielded the valley from the south and east, the woodland they had passed on their way up here in the west and, up in the north, a powerful river whose cold water originated from the mountains, the very same she used to watch from the meadow when the air was clean; now they majestically stood above all, and Sungown was deeply intimidated. She learned the customs of the rabbits and how to act at the royal household in an appropriate manner. She learned their language and was soon called by her rabbit-name only: Hath Atal , “Bearer of the Sun” or “She Who Is Dressed in Sunlight”. She socialized with the princes on a daily bases and visited their lectures, she learned much from their teachers, especially the lunar phases and celestial constellations, salutary herbs as well as those who could poison you and, of course, predators that roamed the hills beyond the borders. Paying close attention, she even began tutoring the princes if they had trouble understand a topic. Eventually she had given every tree in the forest a name in the rabbit-language and knew when it was best to lie in their shadows in order to avoid the heat that came over the village everyday.
The rabbits, as she soon came to realise, were efficient and agitated creatures that lived in strict hierarchy - way different from how she had been raised. The Queen of the Grove was their leader and decided all. Was there an argument, she settled it; was there a crisis, she ended it. Yet as kind and diligent her reign was, she did not shy away from using harsh measures: then she was fearsome and cruel. One time, two brothers happened to come across the same tasty plant. Both wished to eat it without sharing, a fight developed with one of them being struck at the head in such a way that he went blind. The queen hesitated not and banished the responsible brother from her lands under penalty of being torn asunder by the guard badgers. Sungown tried desperately to persuade the queen - to no avail. As a result, Sungown grew distant and often avoided Her Majesty altogether. The following days she took her meals - against the tradition - alone in her room and remained silent.
For seven months Sungown lived in the valley and Lousy was her best friend. The old dragonfly never missed the opportunity to tell a silly anecdote and was a welcomed counterpart to the rigorous tone in the palace. He sang to her and she learned his rhymes. She did not care how his voice cracked when it was too low, or how he couldn’t hold a high note. “You’re like the tree in that way”, she had once told him. He was embarrassed. In a way, he had fallen in love with her. He liked her and watched over her. A few weeks after her arrival she begged him to teach her how to fly. “Neither my mother nor the birds could show me. Help me, please, for it is what I desire most!” Day after day, once all duties had been done, they tried to teach a rabbit how to fly. However, Lousy did not know - and in that regard took after her old teachers - how a pegasus flew, not to mention a rabbit. He could show her but the way of the dragonfly, with wings buzzing so fast they were practically invisible. Sungown’s wings had little strength in them. She didn’t know how to position them let alone flap them as rapidly as old Lousy could. After ten frustrating days of trying she heavy-heartedly forfeited.
“I’m so sorry. This is all I can teach you”, Lousy whispered.
“You’ve given it your best shot”, Sungown replied, a worn-out smile on her face. “I can’t force you to make me less bad than I am.”
But he had noticed the dismay in her eyes and felt her pain. He barely lifted her mood with his songs and stories. Deep inside, he knew the disappointment was gnawing on her. Whenever he lay his eyes on her he could feel it, see it. It simply broke his heart.
On the first day of the eighth month of her stay in the valley they lay near a pond. Lousy looked after the princes as they played amidst the reed. They had grown a lot since Sungown had dug them up and now wore their pieces of the blanket as a kerchief, just like the pegasus used to. The sun hid behind swathes of thin clouds gathered at the horizon, the grass was still from wet from a heavy afternoon shower. It was a cold springtime day.
Sungown said: “Every chamber of the palace have I seen.” For she had promised the queen to examine even the smallest thing in possession of Her Majesty. Everyday she came to a new chamber - everyday she slightly shook her head. “I know every coin, every piece of linen, every crewet, every jewel and every trumpery rabbit paws had ever touched. I’ve read all the books and talked to all the teachers to the point that they cannot teach me anymore. I recognize every face and know every name and always know when the maids call to dinner a minute early. I speak their language, I act like them and only lust for plants I like the most. Sometimes I wake and wonder whether my ears have grown or whiskers have sprouted. There is oh so little that distinguishes me from them: I have become a rabbit, a real, living rabbit.”
“You say it like it’d bother you”, Lousy noticed. “Usually you don’t appear a bit upset while talking about your time here - until now. The last time I saw you this miserable was when I couldn’t teach you how to fly. Is that what troubles you?”
“I once left my home to learn more about the world. There was nothing that surprised me anymore. I winded up here and learned anything there is to know about rabbits and yet again do I feel the urge to go out and seek what can truly fascinate me. I love living here, Lousy. The grove is beautiful and all treat me with respect and kindness. But I didn’t stop being a butterfly just so I could become a rabbit! And I didn’t leave my family just to find another one. If I stay, I do them wrong, but if I go, I would be alone once more.” She rested her head on her hooves and watched as flies danced upon the water.
Lousy took his time to answer. The princes were out of his sight, so he checked on them. Upon returning, he said:
“You are not who you were when I found you in the forest, Hath Atal. Now that does not mean you are something new entirely; you’ve become more . Beforehand you have been little, now you are more, but that is not the end of it. Maybe you’ll never be all . But remember you do not lose what you are by remembering how you grew into it. Your are neither rabbit nor butterfly, you are both at the same time, and provided I could have been a better teacher you may as well have become a dragonfly. Just like that you’ll never lose a family by finding a different one. We are but the part of your family that is with you right now. Or do you wish to tell me you’d suddenly didn’t care about your friends and siblings and parents anymore? Of course not - for they are a part of you still and always will be. Just like us. Wherever your path will lead you.”
Moved by the dragonfly’s words, Sungown sighed: “So this is goodbye then. I’ll go out to become something that I not yet have been to become everything that I love and that loves me. Thank you, Lousy, with all my heart. You’ve been a wonderful friend since the beginning. Who would have thought a dragonfly would show me how to become a rabbit?”
When the princes came along and learned of Hath Atal’s nearing departure from the valley they all embraced each other in a warm hug. Soon the entire grove had heard the news. An enormous banquet was held in her honor attended by all her rabbit friends, they dined and drank from noon till sunset, one last time the colored lanterns - surrounded by fireflies - were ignited, she listened to Il-Frawith’s old song and slept under the stars so she would never forget how the sky looked like down here in this valley. Often would she look up and find the patterns had changed, but those of them that lay in the west were her favorites because she knew: somewhere her mother would look up to them and see the same patterns.
The next morn Sungown visited the queen one last time. “All is prepared. Lousy will accompany you till you reach the river in the north and show you the right spot to cross it. Pay close attention, otherwise the current will sweep you away! Life at the palace will be different without you; it seems I have forgotten what it was like before you set foot in our domain. My sons learned much from you and call you friend, Hath Atal, and thus I also call you friend. Your welcome will be regal should you ever return, you butterfly in a rabbit’s fur.” With that she turned around, but before she moved the queen added: “I regret that nought in my realm proofed to be of use for you. Big or small, I would have given you anything as a token of my gratitude.”
Suddenly Sungown jumped. She now knew what the queen could give her: “The thing I want is not inside your chambers, but on the outside ”, she explained. She led the queen to the yard where they had celebrated her farewell the night before and pointed upwards. “Your lanterns have always been the most precious thing in your grove. I’d like to take one with me so I will never forget the festivities we had had.”
The rods were lowered and Sungown chose a petite blue lampion that she wore with a cord around her neck. “Inside”, the queen murmured, “lies a magical stone; my ancestors discovered them centuries ago when they built this palace. It will shine for you whenever you wish for; simply imagine the visage of the sun as it shimmers from the inside of this stone, and it will be ignited.”
Lousy then escorted her to the river. They did not speak nor sing on the way. Sometimes a friendship was so true even words were rendered unnecessary. They knew what the other thought. Sadness was not with them. She crossed the river upstream where the bed was shallower. Reaching the opposing shore, she turned around to find Lousy’s tiny body buzzing through the air where she had left him. He had never crossed this border of the valley and would not do so today.
The Tale of the Butterfly - A Fairy-Tale
Ch. 3 - The Dragon and the Yearning
The further she ventured towards the north the barrener the surrounding nature became; sharp winds howled down from all sides and tore up the ground. Having spent all her life in blooming meadows and valleys the stony plateaus with their deep rifts scared her quite a bit. She avoided them as best as she could but soon accustomed to the environment. Good night’s sleep turned out to be a rare occurrence nonetheless.
The mountains were near. Up here only grey conifers grew that fought against the cold. Sungown learned to ignore the loud cracking of frozen branches at night and to utilize the tree’s lee side without getting lost in the woods. There, dense briarwood and thorn-covered scrubs had overgrown what might have been a path once and it was black as night; she could barely see what grew behind the first few rows of trees, leaving her uneasy.
Day after day flew by and every night she covered herself with needles and twigs. She missed the moaning of the earth; the stones on which she slept couldn’t be bothered and didn’t speak. In fact nothing up here spoke to her except the wind, but what was a gentle whisper down in the valley was more of a never ending lamentful scream. Sungown missed her chamber at the palace, she missed the company of Lousy and the princes, she missed fresh salad and the water bugs down by the pond. The pony often imagined to be back; then she planted the lantern in front of her, awoke the visage of the sun and watched the blue hue of the lantern enchantedly. From time to time she fell asleep while doing so. In her dreams Sungown lived beneath an ancient tree and ate away at its roots. When she woke she found herself in a dark world; whether it was the same night or the next, no one knew. Her longing grew with every step.
Whenever she had passed one forest with the next being off in the distance, the stillness that hold sway over the plateau almost drove her insane. To break the silence she started talking to herself and later sang Lousy’s songs until she couldn’t stand it anymore and began to scream against the wind. Up here even the echo died down - but one time, someone answered. An infernal roar like the hissing of a titanic beast came from deep underground, leaving Sungown frozen solid on the spot. She stopped talking to herself or the wind after that. She also stopped fighting the cold. Though the wind hurt her face she didn’t avert it. Grey and cold her body became with little to no trace of her stunning beauty left. When it rained she usually sat down and waited. She paid attention to every single drop hitting her until the sensation became overwhelming - and once the rain was mixed with ice crystals it was as if hundreds of stings penetrated her coat (she paid attention to them as well). The weather formed and hardened her and she became as cold as stone.
It was then that her surroundings began to change. Breaking through the stone small patches of grassland soddened by small watercourses enlivened the mountains. Thin layers of ice covered them that creakily broke under her hooves. Her way - she did not choose it; Sungown rather obeyed the intuition of the rabbits - went downhill for the first time in a long time now. The wind came from behind her; every now and then she’d spread her wings causing her bones to grunt and her joints to creak, only to wish the gust would be strong enough to lift her off the ground. Even though it never happened she enjoyed the feeling and told herself: “That’d be enough.” She tasted the ferns that spotted the ground; they were not as tasty as the ones she had had before but were enough to satisfy her hunger, at least for now. That evening she looked to the stars but didn’t recognize any pattern, so she took the time to come up with and name patterns of her own. To focus her mind on other things than the cold, the rain, and the silence of the stones filled her with glee. At times she even dared to hum a simple melody but could not bring herself to speak up. It must have been weeks since she had had heard a friendly voice. Next, she looked up again, wondering if - by any chance - she herself could not become a star as well? From then on she kept the lantern ablaze as to mimic a star around her neck.
Far and wide she had wandered without meeting another living creature beside of her shadow or reflection on the water. That changed when she climbed down a steep slope and found herself in a forest. Making sure not to slip and fall she didn’t realise until the crunching of twigs snapped her out of it, and the sight simply took her by surprise. After this long time the soft ground felt strange, yet overwhelmingly right and, bouncing up and down, she strolled into the forest and made sure not to lose track so she wouldn’t get lost. Suddenly the rustling of leaves above her head made her turn; then a voice spoke:
“Who strays into this part of the world? Oh by the heavens, it’s a ghost I see, it has to. No one ever risks to disturb the solitude that sleeps within these hills. Be gone, shadow; leave me be, leave me be.”
“I am not a shadow or at least not yet”, Sungown replied. “I will become one sooner or later if I continue my journey through this tristesse. As of now I am something different entirely. Though my intentions were not to scare you; I’ll go and never be heard of again. Yet I must admit: it warms my heart to hear another voice other than my own.”
“Indeed, you are of flesh and blood”, the voice said; it belonged to a bird as it turned out, with quite a flutter it sat on a branch and watched the pony from above. “To witness that; who would have thought? Pardon my behavior but the cold up here will get a hold of your heart eventually.”
“No need to apologize, dear bird. I know the cold all too well.”
“What”, the bird asked, “are you doing here all on your own anyway, do tell?”
“I’m looking for someone”, Sungown replied.
“Who might that be?”
“That I do not know. Perhaps you can tell me? I seek someone to teach me something I don’t already know and, more importantly, teach me how to fly. Just look at my wings and how useless they flop by my side! Oh how I’d wish to soar like your kind do.”
“Well… I do know how to fly. Is it me you’re looking for by any chance?”, the bird chirped.
“The birds back at my homeland could not teach me and neither could the butterflies or the dragonfly. For long I have wandered and became first a rabbit, then a stone. Teach me how to become something else; then you just might succeed.”
“To be something new is not within my power. However, to learn something new is a different story - perhaps I can teach you after all.”
Sungown grinned excitedly. “Try your luck. I know a lot already.”
“Very well”, the bird tweeted and tried to think of something that only she would know. Alas she had spent her entire life in this forest and thus asked: “Do you know what I am?”
“Neither an eagle nor a hawk, that I’m sure of, though you could easily articulate as one. You are a magpie. I can tell from your plumage.”
“Right you are. One what kind of tree am I sitting right now, hm?”
“Simple; a larch. Its needles are all shed, they rustle beneath me.”
“Right! But whose forest it is we are in?”
“Nobody’s”, Sungown said, “and thus everybody’s.”
“Right… again”, the magpie admitted, furious about how that pony was exposing her. “Here’s something you don’t know! My name!”
“Not fair!”, Sungown cried out. “You don’t know mine either. Since you don’t seem to be able to teach me something new I will continue my search.”
The magpie however longed for the pony’s lantern. The cunning bird had long watched Sungown from afar. Playing the kind and obliging stranger she had lured the pony into a trap. Seemingly upset, the magpie uttered: “If you don’t wish me to teach you how to fly go and be on your merry way. Of course I thought you’d be clever enough to see through my little jest. But time is of the essence. I can’t humor you for any longer if you are that stubborn. I’ve got other duties to tend to, you see, like repairing my nest and giving flight lessons…”
She then spread her wings to take off when Sungown suddenly yelped: “Wait! You are a flight teacher? May I attend your classes? Please allow it, please!”
“If you pay for it. My services are costly.”
“Since I do not own anything I simply cannot pay you.”
“Well… what about that lantern around your neck? It appears to me as a proper toll.”
“Oh please don’t take it from me”, Sungown begged, “for I care deeply for it. But come to think of it I do have something else to give you.” She then took off the brooch and showed it to the magpie. Because the lantern was still burning the brooch caught a glimmer and seemingly glowed on its own.
“Very well”, the magpie said eagerly, “that’ll do. It will buy you one hour and not a minute more!”
“Before I give you my brooch though I wanna see that you can actually teach me properly.”
Devious as ever the magpie picked up a pebble the winds had torn from the stone and carried into the crack between two branches of the tree she was sitting on. “This is my student”, the magpie chirped. “I’ve taught him all I know. Now, you mean to tell me pebbles can’t fly? Watch closely then for I’ll show you something new. How else did he possibly come all the way up here?” Tucking the pebble in her beak the magpie then soar high above the treetops and let go; the pebble vanished between the trees. “Marvellous! Look at him go!”, she hollered before returning to her branch. “He flew right to the peak of that mountain. Did you see him?”
“I-I think so”, Sungown murmured in fear of upsetting the magpie again. She did see one thing: a small black dot that was here one moment and gone the other. But she couldn’t tell that the pebble had, in fact, fallen to the ground instead of flying to the mountain peak like the magpie claimed, and since no one’s had ever lied to Sungown she believed the bird. “He must be a special kind of pebble if he’s able to fly.”
“Every pebble can fly provided he has the right teacher”, the magie chirped.
“Never should I’ve doubted you. I did, and you proofed me wrong; for that I apologize. Take the brooch, it shall be yours. Now take me in as your student, dear, kind magpie!” With eyes wide in excitement she looked up to the magpie who swiftly swooped down and took the brooch off Sungown’s mane. However once she returned to the branch the lantern’s hue couldn’t reach it anymore, robbing it of its glimmer, and what was without glimmer was about as priceless as the dirt covering the ground in her forest. “Eeeeeeh!”, she spitted and cried. “Liar! Trickster! Give me what should be rightfully mine!”
“But I don’t understand”, Sungown whispered.
“Cheated! I’ve been cheated! Eeehhh! Nought will I teach you, trickster, gambler! A stone you are? Climb up the mountain and search for the pebble as your teacher then! Eeehhh!” Once more the magpie swooped down and chipped at Sungown’s head. She tried to fight back but the bird was as evasive as it was clever and sly, and the magpie didn’t let go of her until her mane was an utter mess; then she vanished. The brooch lay in a knothole where the magpie had left it, out of Sungown’s reach entirely. She stomped the ground in anger and sadness, she simply could not understand what had caused the bird’s outrage. At least, she told herself, she now knew who to turn to. The peak of the mountain was shrouded in clouds.
For two more days Sungown stayed at the forest in the hope the pebble would return in search of the magpie. While waiting she used the juicy plants growing betwixt the trees to rebuild her withered strength. “I eat in advance”, she once said to herself, confident enough to use her voice again, “who knows how much grows up there? Beside stone and ice and snow, of course.” When the third day came and nothing changed she left the forest at long last and approached the slope. Yet climbing up proofed to be way more difficult than climbing down. She had to utilize every dent she could find all the while trusting in her ability to pull her upwards without tumbling and falling. Soon covered in dirt and cuts she cried: “If only I could use those useless piles of feathers!” Loose stones gave way under her weight. Sometimes she had to turn back and climb up somewhere else because she didn’t find any edges to hold onto. It took her the entire day to reach a part of the slope that wasn’t as steep; a miserable old tree of white bark clinged to the stones and Sungown used the stem as a bed for the night. By dawn she woke and continued the last bit of climbing, when suddenly a loud clanging and crashing rose right behind her, and she turned around just in time to see the old tree falling down and breaking into pieces.
It didn’t take her much longer to reach the top. Here, the debris was less and the winds of a thousand years past had chiselled the stone to resemble something akin to stairs. Following them she soon came to a ridge; she crossed it and when she arrived on a stony plateau the sun died in a sea of red at the horizon. Exhausted, Sungown stopped for a moment as the last light vanished from her sight. But the sky was clear and a waning gibbous moon spent enough light to guide her through the night.
The ground was covered by an ever so thin layer of ice that glinted in the moonlight. It was as though she was walking upon and beneath an endless ocean of unresting stars, resembling myriads of eyes that blinked in anticipation whenever the pony took a step. Igniting her lantern, the land surrounding her was quickly soaked with quivering blue light with the ice reflecting it in every way possible. A rainbow was cast upon the ground and the wind carried away some ice crystals, throwing them into the air where Sungown danced amongst them. The sight was so magnificent that she couldn’t hold in a squeal of fresh delight. “If only Lousy could see!”, she laughed. “And the princes and the entire grove and mama, too!”
If only! With the icy ground mirroring the above it did, in fact, seem as if she was flying, a starry infinity both above and below. She walked among the stars and was as beautiful and free as never before. All of a sudden some of the lights developed a life on their own as they whirred around in circles and buzzed and jumped aloft. Where they passed, gleaming sparks briefly flashed, and they were too quick for the eye to follow. It was then when Sungown realised them to be tiny fairies. Her lantern’s glow must have lured them out of their homes in the ground: living freely close beneath a mountain’s surface they loved, and were attracted by, anything that was merry and full of song. They often could be seen coming out in times of meteorite showers and some legends suggested the fairies simply tried to communicate with their siblings for they too had once been stars that had fallen from the sky. Now the untimely awakening made them reveal themselves and they watched Sungown with childlike curiosity. So much glee they found in her, so much energy and mirth; they soon stirred up a jolly little tone (this was and has always been the fairies’ way to commune; not every strange noise that could be heard up here was the result of the wind after all). Then Sungown too whistled one of Lousy’s songs, the fairies tuned in, an orchestra of voices that encircled the pony in colorful dancing moves. Sungown didn’t even realise how they started leading her uphill; her legs were not hers anymore and the lights mesmerizing and stunning.
A blazing beam of light blinded her. With one wing fanned out she covered her eyes until she found a straight thought: Was the night over already? Far east between colored belts of fog a new sun rose, the song of the fairies died down and the sunlight quickly extinguished their gleam. Sink back into the ground they did, one at a time, returning to their earthen homes to rest. For minutes Sungown stood there and thought and saw and felt - nothing. She was at a place unknown to her, the ground was scarred, the air thin, far below her feet clouds clinged to the mountainside; she understood: the fairies had led her to the mountain’s peak. But her lantern was still down there… somewhere. With a woeful heart she uttered the words: “Now I am left with nothing. My blanket I tore apart, my brooch I sold, my lantern I forgot. Nothing to remember me of what I was until now. For a night I was a star and - like one - I burnt out. I danced amidst the fairies yet I didn’t return back into the ground. What am I now?”
At that moment she became aware of a cave. Ample and massive the maw of stone yawned, Sungown entered to flee the sunlight. Inside, the symmetrie the place bore surprised her. The walls stood firmly straight, the ground without a gouge, the ceiling wondrously curved. Fascinated she dared going deeper. It didn’t take her long (the cave’s entry was still visible and provided some light) to reach a flight of steps that led her deeper into the cave. At the end she found herself in a giant hall; the hall at the queen’s palace was nothing compared to this one. In sooted pans flickering flames burnt, casting dancing shadows upon the walls, the ground - but one spot they seemingly avoided and a titanic one at that. She soon came to realise that the spot was an animal. The creature towered high above her. Its scales were too black to reflect any of the flame’s light and when it breathed air the scales followed the body’s movement, meandering around as if they were liquid. The tail was armed with thick red thorns and red were the claws at all of its paws. Smoke rippled from his nostrils like the jaws inhabited a fiery abysm. Sungown opened her eyes in awe as she looked up to a real, living dragon.
And the dragon looked back - with eyes as white and brilliant as stars, faceted like a diamond.
“I have heard you since you first set hoof on my mountain”, the dragon spoke, his voice a quake, but melodious and slow like a dream. “Tell me, what brings you here?”
“Great dragon”, Sungown said, “I’m looking for someone. I did not know of you and did not mean to interrupt your slumber.”
“Nothing ever interrupts me”, the dragon answered. “I see wide and hear far. Nothing on this mountain that I don’t know of and what does not live on this mountain does not know of me; nothing that I not have heard of; every tale and every name I remember.”
“How many, I wonder?”
“Even more than there are scales on my body.”
“I could count them an eternity over and still wouldn’t be able to finish. You must be alive for a very long time, great dragon, if you know so many tales.”
“Indeed, for I grew with this mountain and came from his roots. Minutes are eternities to me while the years pass by like the leaves in fall.”
“But you must grow very lonely, great dragon. Close to no other being did I meet on my way from the forests of the valley up here. Is there no one to visit you?”
“Many questions you ask”, he spoke, rising his head even higher into the air. His eyes glistened in the darkness. “You walk into my home without a word of introduction. You interrogate me but yet failed to reveal who you are looking for. You know what I am, don’t you? Aren’t you scared of the punishment I could bring over you for your rudeness?”
“How could I be afraid?”, Sungown bluntly asked. “Great dragon, you are so powerful and wise and beautiful. Your voice, even after I’ve offended you, sings; you are a part of this mountain and just as dainty and noble and colossal. All the songs speak of the splendor of your kind and no harm have you done to me yet. I am not afraid because it would mean to disregard all I see in you. Though I admit: You know how to intimidate me. And I’m envious of your wings - you must soar to unheard heights thanks to them, am I right?”
“Higher, further than any other being. I reach for the stars and watch the world from above; the stars tell me all they know, all they see. From time to time I take one with me to listen to his never ending whisper while I sleep. But you are a fool not to be afraid. It would take one breath of air to end you, nothing more, and I would not mourn you; all would return to normal with the mountain as a home to me and me alone.”
“So be it”, Sungown sighed. “Great dragon, once the die is cast there is no salvation. In no way possible could I outrun you and my death would go unnoticed. And I tell you this: Would I not find who I came for I’d rather end up in your belly than live on with my failure. But perhaps you’ll spare me if I offer you my name and my story to you: take them in as a part of your collection.”
“I accept your offering”, the dragon explained. “However, consider this: Once given, all of it belongs to me. Behold: Aranay is my name, the Endless, he who was and is and never ceases to be, collector of all names and teller of all stories, the mountain’s heart and emperor over all winds. Every name I take is mine for names are all - they are past, present, and future of its bearer. If you give it to me I’ll spare your life. But you will no longer be who you have been before.”
“I stopped being what I was a long time ago”, Sungown uttered. “Though still young I was a wild variation of things. Born as a butterfly, my mother raised me in a green meadow of undying beauty far away from here where I learned all that was to know. Then I left, listened to the earthen songs, dug up four princes out of a hole in the ground and clothed them with the sky’s azure hue. Their mother, the Queen of the Grove, allowed me to live beneath the earth like a rabbit, I talked to the trees and once again learned it all. That was my first transformation. For seven months I’ve lived as a rabbit and almost turned into a dragonfly. My teacher, it was he who taught me the songs that tell of your kind, was, however, not strong enough to change me. After that I left with the sun hung around my neck. She would rise on my command only. Long have I wandered about after that. I came to your mountain, slept amidst trees and stones, ate snow and rain and let myself be formed by the wind just as stone until I finally became one. Soon after I came across a forest. There I met the magpie and gave away my brooch, but she shunned me - so I climbed cliffs and wood until I could pick the stars from the sky to dance with them. Here my third transformation took place. In deepest night I awoke the sun to lure fairies out of their nests. Whistling my melodies, they led me up here before vanishing but not before I was turned into a fairy myself. Alone, I was transformed for the fifth and final time: I became nothing. I had lost everything that bound me to what I have been. Now, do what you please. So many times did I become something only to be nothing anyway, merely a shell filled with memories in search of a pebble that can, at long last, teach me how to fly.”
As she ended, Aranay nodded and sighed: “Very well. Your story is told. But now to your name.”
“Which one would you like to hear? As someone who can barely stay the same for a long time I have gathered many. My mother named me Sungown and such was my name among the butterflies. The birds at home used to call me Leafhead after how my hair reminded them of the fall. Hath Atal was my rabbit name - She Who Is Dressed in Sunlight is what it means. The fairies sang to me and whistled but whether it resembled a name I do not know. Only the stones did not call me anything, in return the magpie gave me three names: Liar, Trickster, and Gambler. Will you take all of them, Aranay? Or will you be as kind as to leave me at least one so there’ll be something to call me by?”
“Never have I met an animal with so many names. Since you told them all I will take them.”
“Take them”, Sungown sadly sighed. “One must be a dragon to bear them all I reckon. Will you show mercy? Now, rendered less than nothing, there is no use in ending me.”
“Your life you may keep. Your story was long and your names aplenty. And still I wonder how you were able to transform so many times and yet stand in front of me as something different entirely?”
“What would that be?”, she asked. “I have told you everything I know. I rid myself of everything to save my life, gave away every single name.”
“Except one. I see a pegasus before me. After all your transformations this one is as clear as day to me.”
“This name I don’t know. Neither have I seen one nor was I called one until now.”
It was at that moment Aranay broke into laughter. “Oh what fool of a gatherer I am!”, he cried in delight. “I remember all the names and the faces that told them - never have I named something myself other than me. Pegasus I call you because a pegasus you are! A winged pony! Of course you cannot fly like the birds or the dragonflies if you try in their image and had to meet a dragon to become something that no one could ever rid you off!”
“But I’ve never learned how to be a pegasus”, she shyly murmured. “I don’t know how to act and what to say. Help me, Aranay, I beg you!”
“To show you how to be a pegasus is not within my power. All my life have I been dragon and always will be till the day I leave this world.”
“Show me how to become a dragon, then”, she demanded, causing Aranay to laugh again.
“Are you sure about it?”, he asked through his tears.
“I am the way I am”, Sungown said. “If it’s true what you said - and I don’t doubt your words - it matters not what I’m called or what I become. I have been a pegasus the entire time without even knowing and despite that I have had so many names, knew so many stories and became so many things. If a pegasus can manage to do that then imagine, Aranay, what a dragon is able of. I do not care what others see but what they see in me . Thus I plead, Aranay, great dragon, gatherer of names and teller of stories, you who called me by the name that was mine by birth:”, here she thought of Lousy and what he had told her, “Teach me how to become a dragon in order to make more of me than I ever was without losing what I have already been.”
And Aranay spread his majestic wings, saying: “Do you know how dragons are born? They are but what earth yearns for the most and earth always yearns for what it cannot have. Whenever this yearning is satisfied a new dragon comes to life. So come, come with me, let me guide you to the very origin of all the earth yearns for: the stars!”
With that, Aranay left his cave for the first time in a long time; long was their conversation, night had casted its veil upon the world. No living soul spied the gargantuan shadow as it pierced the heavens, the pegasus always by his side. Together they picked a star off the horizon; she took it and watched its ever changing, mesmerizing, pulsing light as if it was filled with souls that nervously flickered around. For the very first time she had flown. Her greatest wish, her yearning, finally came true and a star was her bestowment. She tended to it and hold it and the energy kept within overcame her, filling her body with celestial power. A horn sprung from her forehead all the while her legs and wings grew in size.
“Again you have changed”, Aranay said. “Not a pegasus anymore but something new completely. I have no name for you. You may choose at your liking as is tradition among the dragons.”
“What is a name anyway, dearest Aranay?”, Sungown said with a voice more gallantly and regal than before. “I bore them since the beginning with pegasus being the last. I became a dragon and now, again, something new. None shall call me by any name. Rather shall I be remembered by the things I did and intend to do. Something bigger lives inside of me now, bigger than anything I’ve ever dreamed of. I shall be gentle and wise and find my roots.”
And thus, or at least the legends tell it that way, is how the first alicorn came to be. She became the first leader of her race, Aranay always by her side and father to all dragons that followed him. From him she was told every name and soon learned every story and was benevolent and just to all, and whenever she didn’t know the answer to a question Aranay took her to the stars until she learned how to fly by herself. To the ponies she was the symbol of the sky, the sun, and the moon for she carried their energy and brought it down to the earth. And when the day came when weariness clouded her mind, she spoke: “Aranay, my time has come. Soon I will be gone, but don’t leave me down here. Take me to the stars one last time: I love them like children. You however shall return.”
Whereas Aranay replied: “Once I gave you a name and even though you wished not to I have yet another one for you. I call you my friend. To the stars I will fly you and watch after your soul until it all ends.”
Thus they left this mortal realm: the first alicorn, mother of all alicorns that followed her on the throne, and as the flame of her life flickered, Aranay, her closest friend, was with her as he has been almost all her life. And he still watches over this world and remembers all that has ever been.
The End
