Dreamwalker's Tale: First (and Last?) Adventure

Two days, some minor preparations, a little bit of organizational back and forth and one quite boring train ride later and I weaved my way through the streets of Canterlot. Considering the length of the train ride, it was still somewhat early, being around noon. And I was quite happy. I even considered whistling a little tune, even though I ultimately decided against it and just left it at that little spring in my step that I could feel.

It was a great day. Though judging by the soured faces here and there, few ponies shared that sentiment. A light gray cloud cover hung in the sky, being quite stubborn as several groups of pegasi hastily tried to get rid of it. A faint drizzle started and stopped every few minutes. My coat was damp after the first time, and dripping wet after the second. My saddlebags held out a little longer, but ultimately, they were not waterproof. This pair was not, anyway.

But I did not mind the rain. It was cold, sure. And wet — duh. But summer was coming and this was a respite from the heat of the last few days and I cherished it as such. The long faces all around me primarily told me one thing: This had not been planned or scheduled.

Canterlot’s inhabitants were very, very used to knowing exactly what would happen in the next couple of days, weeks, months. They did not like being surprised. And they did not like things not going according to plan either. And maybe it was not exactly the friendliest reaction of mine, but I couldn't help but smile a little wider just because of knowing this. And seeing this.

I arrived at my stage finish — Donut Joe’s place. I tried to get rid of at least some of the water before stepping in, but quickly realized the futility of that endeavor and gave up on it.

That familiar little copper bell above the door made a nice and welcoming sound. At the same time, the scent of sugary goodness wafted by my nostrils. I did notice for a moment how oddly different it smelled from Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie sometimes told me that she could navigate the town with a blindfold just by smell — which quite frankly sounded a bit disturbing and a bit disgusting. But maybe this was what she had been speaking about. Did all bakeries have their own, distinctive smell?

I stood just behind the door after it closed and quickly scanned the room. Customers galore, probably refugees from the horrible, terrible, mystifying drizzle outside. But I had no intention of staying. And there he was, right behind the counter. He just finished up delivering another order when he raised his head and glanced in my direction. Or the direction of the entrance, more like, as it was certainly the bell that had drawn his attention.

Joe was impressively built. He could have been a distant cousin of Big Macintosh. Heck, maybe he was. I wondered if he would still—

“Hey there, buddy! What can I do for you?” he greeted in his usual, slightly bellowing voice.

And I smiled. Buddy. The way he greeted most of his customers. New ones, unfamiliar ones. I did not even feel offended in the slightest. The fact of the matter was that I came by way too rarely for him to remember me. And I did look quite unremarkable.

The floor around the entrance was wet. And slippery. He had tried to compensate by laying out some towels, which were all wet as well and ponies coming and going had moved them around quite a bit. It was a mess. But he seemed to appreciate me standing there for a moment before walking over to the counter anyway. “Hey Joe,” I finally greeted him. “I’m in a pickle. You see, I have to crack a very stubborn nut. I'm not entirely sure what she likes. But I was hoping some of your famous goods might do the trick and play the part of my nutcracker. Any advice?”

He gave a loud, hearty laugh before dimming it down to a chuckle, as to not further disturb the other customers. “I see. Well, tell me about this stubborn nut.”

“Bookworm. Recluse. Really tries to not have humor. Or emotions aside from annoyance.” I chuckled a little as I saw his face scrunch up.

“You sure you wanna go after that one? Sounds like a lot of work,” he asked.

And at that point, I luckily noticed how he understood my request. It had admittedly been poor phrasing on my part. “Oh. Oh no, I’m not after her. I want to mollify her, so that she can help me with something.”

He quietly chuckled once more and nodded. “Gotcha. Well, in that case, I still have a few cupcakes from my latest experimentation around. Tomato, basil and oregano. A lot less sweet, of course. Your mare doesn’t strike me as the sweets-kinda-mare. Herbal. A bit spicy due to the chili powder on top. And the little wrapper contains most of the mess. It’s less sticky than donuts, too.”

I thought it was a really good pitch. And he was obviously trying hard to pitch it, which was what confused me a little. “They’re not going so well, I take it? Can’t fathom why though. They sound tasty.”

He shrugged with a good-hearted smile. “Well, ponies ‘round these parts don’t like surprises much. It proved hard to convince anypony to try them. But those that did were quite enthusiastic, so I’m now betting on word of mouth.”

I dared to look over my shoulder, and out the massive window, where another drizzle seemed to have started recently. A small chuckle escaped my own throat. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure those few minutes of rain, if you would even call it that, has ruined a lot of ponies’ perfectly planned days.” I really should have kept quiet about that. First of all, I was in a shop with a lot of customers within earshot, most of which were probably here because of that exact reason. And secondly… I was one to talk! It just so happened that this inconvenience did not interfere with my plans.

Joe, on the other hoof, tried to stifle a chuckle, being a bit more aware of his surroundings than I was. “’S far as I can tell, half of Canterlot is up in arms about it. Heard that something went wrong with the weather team’s schedule or something.”

I nodded a little absentmindedly before refocusing my attention. “Right. Sorry for spacing out. About those cupcakes — I’ll take two. No wait, I’m actually pretty sure she’s constantly forgetting to eat. I know somepony quite similar to her and she has the same problem. Make it three.”

Joe grinned. “Lucky me, ‘cause three’s all I got left anyway. Be right back.”

The timing really was perfect. The moment Joe returned, I shoved a little pile of bits over the counter with a smile and a “Keep the change!” and the little copper bell rang out once more to announce the entrance of another refugee. Or customer. Probably both.

I stored my sacrificial offerings away, bid my goodbyes and made for the door. And as I opened it, the drizzle stopped. I could not help but look up for just a second and scan the cloud cover for any traces of Rainbow or Derpy. But while I saw a lot of pegasi hard at work, I saw none of the familiar faces or hides. The cloud blanket had a couple of holes here and there though. It was a rather strange sight, almost like a chess board.

I just shrugged and made my way to my next destination: The palace. I moved past the main gate and into the labyrinthine hallways without any of the guards batting an eye and after some time found the guest room in the east wing that I usually used nowadays. When I had a need for my own room to begin with, that is. Which was extremely rare anyway.

I unloaded parts of my saddlebags and made the room ready for a couple of days of stay. The idea of sleeping alone was not all that appealing, but I needed focus for those next days and with Celestia or Luna around, I would get distracted. A lot. Quite willingly.

After leaving my room again barely a couple of minutes later, I once again made my way through hallways, down stairs, and across sections of the castle I rarely if ever set hoof in. Until I arrived in front of a massive grate that functioned as a double door.

“Good—“ I tried to greet the two Day Guards stationed here, but had to stop myself and actually check a window for the time of day. “Afternoon! Good afternoon, guys.” Before I turned my gaze from the window back to them, I heard one of them stifle an amused snort. I could not tell which of the two had been responsible, but I figured he was still young. A little sloppy on the finer details of his training. His comrade would probably berate him on that as soon as I was out of earshot. But for now, I just grinned and passed through.

The Canterlot Royal Archives. Basically a very fancy title for a very fancy library. A multi-story library with several sections with restricted access and a dozen librarians with wildly varying levels of clearance. They wore little, color-coded bands around their necks. It helped those in the know to address the right pony, and it worked as a sort of key card as well, opening sections they were allowed to open. A simple enchantment made sure that only the librarian could actually use the band, otherwise theft of it would have led to some problems. Then again — it probably had at some point and that was why the enchantment had been established as standard.

Despite the majority of the Royal Archives being publicly accessible, few ever bothered to come here. Celestia had told me at one point that she felt a little disappointed about that, as the Archives were meant as another point of teaching and distribution of knowledge. But over the course of centuries, other libraries within the city had sprung up and taken over. They were more centralized, easier to reach, and supposedly easier to navigate.

I could not understand that last point though. I had never had any issues navigating the Archives. Then again, I lived with Twilight, so there was that.

What I loved most about the Archives was the smell. Something I cherished about any and all libraries. Something I loved about Twilight. This smell of dust and paper and ink. The smell of history. Of knowledge. The smell of Old. It was enticing. Luring me into the many side corridors I passed by. Promising me a good time if I would just stop, pick a book, a random book, any book, and start to dig in.

But I did not have that kind of time. I needed to stay focused and find that one grumpy librarian.

And another thing I cherished helped me along the way. As with most libraries, excessive noise could get one kicked out. Ponies came here to read and learn. And that was something done best in silence. I did not like the hustle and bustle of larger cities in part due to how loud everything was. But in here, one could hear the slight rustle of a single page being turned. It was a good way of navigating, too — when searching for somepony.

With the rather infrequent visitors, I knew what most librarians did. New books arrived on a weekly basis, to be sorted away. And the occasional reader left his books behind without properly sorting them back in. Some scrolls, maps and books stored here needed tender care to endure the times. But with a dozen librarians, there was just never enough work to go around. Celestia refused to let any of them go. She refused to reduce the number of librarians as well, knowing full well that most of them killed their time by reading.

The ponies working here were scholars in their own right, and only grew more knowledgeable over the years of their service to the nation.

I finally found the one I had been searching for. She was sitting on a table, surrounded by three columns of books, one she had her muzzle buried in. Despite the huge windows spending precious daylight, an additional firefly lantern stood lit beside her. Maybe she had been reading throughout the entirety of last night and had not noticed the arrival of a new day yet. It would not have surprised me much.

I stepped closer, knowing she would notice me now. But unsurprisingly, she refused to acknowledge it. “Moooniiieee,” I sang in a whisper.

She grimaced. “I am not going to react to that ridiculous abbreviation of my name!” she spat offended.

“Come now, Moonie. Don’t be grumpy. I’ve brought you something,” I continued. I levitated the small paper bag out of my saddlebags and put it down on the table. Carefully. A good distance away from her book towers, the book she was currently reading, her inkwell, her feather, her lantern, her notes she was currently writing and anything else. Truly, there was not exactly a lot of space on this table to put the damn things. But I managed.

She took one glance at the logo of Joe’s on the bag and grimaced even harder. “You are bringing that sticky, sugar-laden mess into my library and hope for… what, exactly? My eternal gratitude?”

Her belly rumbled a little. So I was probably right. She had been here all night. Which probably meant she had skipped breakfast. And lunch. And maybe even dinner last evening. How that mare was still in such an attractive shape was beyond my comprehension. “Well technically it’s not your—“

“I’d be very careful about how I end that sentence if I were you,” she interrupted me harshly, completely ignoring her mourning stomach and my teasing tone.

I quietly chuckled a little. Maybe she was extra-grumpy because she was extra-hungry. But taking over the entire Archives as hers was a bold move. She was not even the chief librarian. “Alright, alright, fine. You may have the Archives, and your peace. I won’t bother you further.” I opened the paper bag. Just a second or two, to let a little cloud of that enticing scent escape and mingle with the surrounding air, so that it would eventually reach her nose. After closing it again, I stored it back in my saddlebags and slowly turned, walking away.

I could hear her grind her teeth in mild frustration. I could hear her belly give a grumbling whine for her mercy. And finally, I could hear a barely stifled groan and a deep sigh. “Dreamwalker, wait.”

I stopped, turned around and probably sported the smuggest smile I had in the last weeks. “Yes, Moondancer?”

The proper use of her name seemed to appease her even further. I could see the impulse was there to just groan again and smash her head on the desk. She would never do that, of course. Bad behavior. Especially for a librarian.

With a gesture, she offered me a place at her desk. I levitated the paper bag over to her, so that she may inspect the non-sticky, less-sugar-laden non-mess, while I went a couple of rows of bookshelves further to fetch myself a second chair.

When I returned to the table, three cupcakes sat perfectly undevoured on the neatly folded paper bag. I grinned in triumph, but was wise enough not to comment on it. “They smell fantastic, don’t they?”

She swallowed, and gave a defeated nod. “They do. And I have to apologize. While this solution is certainly not perfect, you clearly tried to be mindful of this setting.”

I shook my head. “Nah, don’t. Honestly, I’m just glad I can keep you from starving for a week longer or so. You eat dust mites and unpleasant customers in the meantime, right? I can’t explain how you survive otherwise.”

And I could see the first cracks form when she tried and failed to suppress a smile while answering. “I can assure you, I survive on feeding on your despair alone. It’s quite filling every time you drop by.”

“Despair?” I shot right back and furrowed my brow. “I think you got your words mixed up. Don’t worry, there’s no reason to panic. Happens to the best of us. But I think you might have confused ‘despair’ with ‘affection’.”

“I do not confuse words!” she immediately protested, before the rest sank in and she blushed and struggled for words.

It was true, of course. I quite liked her. But goodness gracious, she was work. As far as I remembered, I had never had the dubious pleasure of interacting with the super-shy Fluttershy of the early years. I had only ever heard the horror stories. They were quite funny these days, even Fluttershy herself giggled. But there was a difference between these two. Fluttershy had been just that. Extremely shy. But kind. Soft-spoken, and soft-hearted. Moondancer was made from tougher stuff. Her social ineptitude was the product of lacking experience. And where Fluttershy had eventually started to struggle against these chains, Moondancer seemed quite content with them most of the time. She had her library, she had her books, her fellow librarians. And after the incident a couple years back, in which Twilight reconnected with her old friends from Canterlot, she was set straight by her friends. Work started at some point — and it usually ended at some point. She still was not a social butterfly, but she occasionally met Minuette for a cup of tea in one of Canterlot’s many corner cafés, or planned a little get-together with Twilight for a weekend of unrestrained, nerdy science. She did things other than being a recluse and reading.

But it was not quite what they all had hoped for. There were no rainbows involved, no magical transformation, no sudden switch flipped. She did not just return to society as a changed mare.

And that was fine. That was okay. As long as she was happy, truly happy, then that was okay. And by now, most of us knew that her grumpiness was just a defensive exterior. I had tried to coax her out into the open a little more on occasion, with mixed results. The fact of the matter was: Just like with Joe, I was not around nearly often enough to make a significant difference. I did my part. The best I could do. But I just had to hope that somepony else would take her on and win her over.

I just dropped by on occasion, fed her and reminded her of the existence of the concept of sleep, teased her a bunch and usually asked for her help in one thing or another. Which was probably why she became suspicious after a long moment. “What do you want?” she asked. Without a word, I put a hoof on the paper bag and carefully slid it the smallest smidge in her direction, still with both cupcakes on top. “You are not here just to stuff me.”

Seeing another opening for a tease, I grinned. “No, but I have to contribute my part to keep that lovely shape of yours intact.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, despite the faint tint in her cheeks and picked up another cupcake, carefully eating it without letting a single crumb fall. After she was done, she looked at me expectantly, but I just wordlessly insisted on the third one. “I thought—“ she started, but stopped herself, furrowing her brow and inspecting the cupcake further.

And I could apparently read minds after all. “I don’t mind sharing with you, Moonie. And I had initially planned on eating one, too. But I can just walk to the castle kitchen and ask if they would be so kind as to make me a sandwich. You, on the other hoof, would not consider that. And even if you would, you would not do that. And even if you would like to do that, you would tell yourself ‘after the next chapter’ and then forget all about it. How many meals have you skipped this time? It’s a cupcake, Moonie. Not an entire three-layer cake. Come on. Dig in. Or don’t. Maybe keep it for later. Just don't... let it go to waste. That would be a shame.”

She stared at the third cupcake and her rapidly changing expression was a lot harder to read this time. She finally settled into defeat once again, with traces of gratitude. And indeed, she picked it up in her levitation, and put it back into the paper bag. In a couple of hours, when she might remember it being there, it would taste a lot staler than it would now. But that would matter little to her. It would be a nice reminder.

Or at least that was what I was hoping for.

“Now that you have—“ she started, only to interrupt herself again. She blushed a little and pushed past the embarrassment of whatever she was thinking. “Now that that is done — what do you want?”

“I need your help,” I freely admitted.

“Figured as much,” she deadpanned.

“I’m trying to come up with a present,” I continued undisturbed. “I’ve already settled on the idea of crafting something. The smithy in the cellar is well-equipped and should do just fine, but I don’t want to make something out of just regular old iron or something ordinary like that. I was hoping you could help me find a material index.”

Moondancer fell quiet for a good while and I could see the cogs spinning. So I kept my muzzle shut as well and instead looked around a bit, taking in the scenery, so to speak. Massive bookshelves, stuffed with knowledge of thousands of years, maps of all regions of the continent, scrolls containing the accounts of contemporary witnesses. I knew that Twilight could get excited about libraries. In more than just the ‘yay, books!’-way that was to be expected. And while I never did quite understand how this connected to her arousal, in moments like these — I could almost feel it myself. It was so impressive, just sitting here, looking at it all, imagining what it might contain, what it stood for, what it meant. The entirety of ponykind, working hoof in hoof, documenting history, beasts and monsters, events and natural phenomena, and bringing it all together in an attempt to better understand their world. Such hunger for knowledge. Such drive to take control. Such—

“Haremean’s Guide to Metallurgy, Volume Two,” Moondancer interrupted my musings.

“Uh… come again?”

She sighed. “Wait here.” And without even waiting on an answer, she got up and left. Lost within the hallways, walls of books and secrets. It only took her about two minutes to return though. A minotaur always knew how to navigate his own labyrinth, after all. What she carried with her was an impressively large tome floating in her aura behind her. “There.” She carefully set it down on the table, thereby covering what little empty space had been left. It was obvious that she expected me to take it and go someplace else. Another desk within the library would suffice. But she wanted to read in peace and silence and I would certainly not help with either.

So I stood up, looked at the massive book and then smiled in her direction. “Thank you. You’re a gem!”

She quietly groaned. “Yes, yes, just take it and—“

She immediately shut up when I stepped up to her and hugged her. I was well aware that this could go one of two ways. Either she was fine with it, or she was not. It was a sudden intrusion upon her privacy, I knew that. But I also knew how it felt, wanting to be physically close to others but not daring to ask for it. Wanting something as simple as a hug, but feeling your own inhibitions rise up to deny you what you truly needed.

I was prepared to get a shove, or to be somehow quietly yelled at. A special librarian power, I assumed. And I was relieved twice as much when, after a brief period of her realizing what was happening, she did neither. She instead endured. And after a moment longer, she started to figuratively melt into the embrace, even daring to nuzzle into my mane.

We stayed close together for a minute, maybe two, or three. I could not tell. I had initially considered staying with her for however long it would take. However long she felt she needed it. Up to the point when she would inevitably remember our surroundings, and retract to a ‘proper’ distance. But that moment just did not come. It made me feel bad, having to break the spell myself. “You know, last time I was here, you kind of promised me to come by the castle someday. And then you didn’t.”

There was an effort on her part to tense up, but she just could not bring herself to do so. “I… I was b—“

I had to interrupt that sorry excuse right away. “If you say ‘you were busy’, I am going to go back to Joe’s, buy his whole stock, return here and really stuff you. With all the sugar and sticky whatnot that he has.”

It might have been a weird threat, but it did its job just fine. I felt a stifled giggle within her body. “Fine,” she answered in such an annoyed tone that it contrasted quite a bit with my observation.

When she finally stepped back, we both shared a meek little smile. “Do come around someday. Please. Twilight would love to have you over. As would I.”

I noticed her side glance to those book towers, followed by a sigh. There were always more books to read. She would not be able to dig through the entire Archives, not with her entire lifetime ahead of her. And she had to know that. She was way too smart not to know. “I… I will try.”

Good enough, I told myself. It had to do for now. “I’m going to grab my book now, and I’ll be over there, four rows in that direction. Just so you know. If you need anything. Or anyone. For eventual, hug-related emergencies or something.”

She rolled her eyes despite her smile and threatened me with a quickly levitated scroll. “Will you stop talking already and get out of here! You’re slowing my progress! Shoo!”

I chuckled, picked the book up and trotted to my own table, with a big, fat smile plastered on my face. And I was decently sure she smiled a lot as well, at least on the inside.

‘Haremean’s Guide to Metallurgy, Volume Two’ proved to be just the book I needed, but progress was slow anyway. According to the lengthy preamble, Volume One had given a detailed treatise about the more common and most uncommon metals and half-metals. Just about anything that could be reasonably used by a smith, according to my own assessment. Volume Two covered the remaining uncommon ones, as well as the exotics. And teased a Volume Three, which would apparently be a tad more esoteric in nature, covering metals that were said to exist but remained the subjects of myths, legends and folklore so far.

The book was all my smithing heart could have ever asked for. Each entry, all sorted alphabetically, gave a wide variety of details about each substance. Melting points. Density. Common places to find the stuff. Even some probably horribly outdated speculation about the potential prices. Some examples of uses. Descriptions of favored and established processing techniques. It was great.

It was also a lot of work to diligently work through the entire book. It would probably have been a lot less work, had I decided on any direction for my little project. But no, I explicitly tried to keep an open mind about all the potential avenues. I read the afternoon away. And the evening. And half of the night.

I was better than Moondancer, I defiantly told myself, when I made my way to the kitchen, half-asleep, asking for a sandwich. I ate it on my way to my room, fell asleep as soon as my head hit the cushion and woke up to the faint smell of fresh rain and a cold night sky’s breeze. “L-Lu…?” I groggily asked into the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. I was sure that she must have been in here, for whatever reason. And I even vaguely noticed the other side of the bed being warm. But that made no sense, did it? And after I returned from the bathroom, the bed was cold all the way through, the scent had vanished and I told myself that it had been nothing but the remnant of a nice dream.

I did not even question that I had been dreaming in the first place.

I instead walked back down to the kitchen, asked for a sandwich, ate it on my way to the Archives and buried my muzzle in that book once again. The hours trickled by, the day turned to night again, and I finally managed to close the darn thing. “Sweet Celestia, please kill me,” I quietly groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose with a hoof.

“That is not exactly her style,” Moondancer spoke up somewhere to my left.

At that point, I was simply too tired to be startled. I just looked up and squinted a little. A simple firefly lantern had lit my desk. Strange. I could not remember bringing one along. And Moondancer was holding another one in her levitation beside her head. It made some interesting shadows play and dance across her muzzle. “No, I guess not,” I belatedly answered. I grimaced a little as I stood up. Something about my blood flow did not quite feel right, but I tried to ignore it as best as I could. “You should be at home. And asleep,” I tried to reprimand her.

But Moondancer just snorted with a sharp look in her eyes and a hard to place amusement tugging at her lips. “Look who’s talking. I would be, if it were not for you. I tried to get you out of here. Twice.”

Wait, what? That did not sound right. When did she—? How would I not—? What? I felt myself blink, slowly, one eye after the other. That really made me realize just how messed up I was. “Okay… uh… so maybe I had lost track of time a little.”

She sighed and smiled. It was that kind of smile that was a rare sight for her. Warm and soothing and understanding. “Don’t worry. I get it. It gets me all the time.”

I was not quite sure if we were truly talking about the same thing, but I nodded anyway and slowly walked over to her, both the book and the lantern forgotten. She did not remark on it. She instead just turned around and we walked towards the exit side by side, close enough for our coats to occasionally brush. Probably so that she could keep me steady, should I suddenly keel over. And admittedly, I did sway slightly.

“Did you at least find what you were searching for?” she asked. Either out of curiosity, or to keep me awake. Maybe both.

I tried to sort through all the nonsense and less than useful information my brain had tried to hold onto the entire day. And I finally allowed myself to discard most of it. Materials too rare to work with them. Or poisonous in nature. Goodness gracious, there was a lot of poisonous metals. Another batch went out the hatch due to being too soft — or too hard — to properly work with them. With each moment, the list shrunk down further and further. And after peeling back the layers for about two or three minutes, I finally started to remember reading about something that had actually gotten me excited. I nodded with a bit of enthusiasm. “Yeah. I think I actually found something.” And once I inspected that memory closer, the frustration came back as well and I grimaced. “Ah. Right. But it’s a bit of a dead end, possibly. I was considering asking for your help again, but that wasn’t reasonable when the possibility was still there for me to choose other materials to begin with. But now… I don’t know… I think I would like to work with that stuff.”

She patiently nodded. “What was it?”

“’Sun-blessed gold’ and ‘moon-blessed silver’. Sounded a lot like stuff Celestia and Luna would make. You know, because of sun and moon. But as far as I’m aware, they never created their own metals. Maybe it’s more of a ritualistic blessing of regular gold and silver, but the book described them as having vastly different properties. Now, I’m not saying that a ritual cannot change the properties of a material. That would be stupid. I mean, saying that would be. Because they can. Goodness, I lost my golden threat. I need sleep.”

I heard her soft giggle at my side and could not help but smile. It was a weird observation that I had to drive myself head-first into ruin for her to dismiss her defensive walls and mechanisms. But right now, she seemed a lot more open and unguarded than usual. I liked that.

“Well, at least you are still conscious enough to realize that,” she said with a smirk that I could hear more than I could see. “I had been reading for so long at one point that I did not even feel tired anymore. Or hungry. Or thirsty. I did start to hear and see things that were not truly there though. The Princess came into the Archives after the chief librarian informed her and she put a sleep spell on me. It was designed to keep me asleep until my body had fully recuperated. They started to panic a little after the four day-mark. Luckily the spell being in effect meant that I did not have to eat or drink throughout that time, as that was part of the regeneration process. The, uh… the other librarians have been quite wary of my reading habits ever since.”

I giggled. It very much sounded like a filly, which made my own voice sound strange and alien to me for a second. Then I shrugged it off. “You know, sometimes, I think Twilight might have become just like you had she not moved to Ponyville.”

The gravitas of my mistake only struck me when Moondancer remained silent for a while, before answering with a curt “Well. Yes.”

I stopped, and shortly after so did she. “You are not her. Nopony expects you to be her,” I pleaded. “You are you, and I like you for who you are. Can you believe that?”

After another moment that just seemed to stretch into eternity, she finally sighed and turned around to face me. She looked tired. As tired as I felt, even though our little walk through the dark hallways of the castle had helped mix some life and spirit back into my bones. And she tried to smile. It was a shaky, fragile thing. “I believe you. And yet, it is still hard to escape her shadow.”

I sighed and regretted my stupid, imprudent comment. If only I had thought before opening my muzzle. “I’m sorry.” I felt like there was little else that I could say in all honesty to comfort her. She was one of Twilight’s earliest friends. They had this rivalry-friendship thing going on for a long while. They were both the smartest of their respective classes. Always head-to-head. And even to this day, many who knew both still compared them. Which certainly was not fair to either of them. I was guilty of this, certainly. But so were many others, I was sure. I wordlessly offered another hug and after some initial hesitation, she accepted the gesture.

“That was really clumsy,” she whispered while hugging me something fierce.

I chuckled a little and ‘choked’ a moment, just for dramatic effect. “I know, I know. It’s the sleep deprivation speaking, probably.” Finally, my gaze fell upon the door that was a dozen or so steps away. My guest room door. “Wait. Wait just a second. Did you just bring me to my room?”

She stepped back and the floating lantern retreated a little behind her head. Which made it quite a lot harder to tell if she was blushing or not. Which in itself was telling already. “I fell asleep in the middle of the hallway one time. It is quite embarrassing,” she noted in a surprisingly quiet whisper.

“So you’re just bringing me home to make sure that I get home safely?” I asked. I still had a little bit of trouble believing that. But she nodded in earnest. She was serious about this. “Huh. So… I’m not expected to invite you in for a coffee now?”

Despite her smile, she rolled with her eyes and wordlessly threatened to bonk the lantern over my head. “Have a good night, Dreamwalker. I will see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, she started trotting down the hallway.

“Do you want to come in for a coffee?” I was not exactly sure where I was going with this. I had initially thought about just teasing her, as a nice goodbye. And she would have snorted or thrown back some biting comment or something and then she would have left. And for some reason, I did not want that. I remembered this morning, with the other bedside being warm, and Luna’s scent in the air. It would have been easy, really. To sneak into her room. Or Celestia’s, for that matter. They really were not that far away.

But right here, and right now, I felt a strange kinship to Moondancer. She would walk out of the palace alone. She would walk along the streets of Canterlot by night, alone. Sure, she would appreciate the night sky. The fresh air. Until she arrived at her home, made herself comfortable. And she would sleep. Alone. And that was fine on most days. But it had been so easy to break through to her this time. She had made no move to break the hug in the library. She had shared some embarrassing stories without me needling her about it.

Maybe I was too exhausted to think straight. Or maybe this was her way of asking.

Either way, my indecisiveness had resulted in a rather serious tone when asking that question. Which had made her hold in her tracks instantly. She craned her neck around and looked at me with yet another hard to read expression. And before she started drawing the wrong conclusions, I opened my mouth again. “I’m not… this isn’t about sex,” I clarified hastily and grimaced just as much as she did. Night time. Empty hallway. The echo was not too bad, but somepony might have heard anyway. But I felt like I had to be this blunt. To clear it up quickly. “I’m just… uh…”

“But you are inviting me to your bed…?” she asked. Once again surprisingly quietly. My ears swiveled about and I really had to strain to make it out. Despite the silence permeating the entire castle at this hour.

I mulled things over for a moment before nodding. “I think so, yes. Like… like a sleepover.” Luna is going to kill me if she sees this. I decided to deal with her potential outburst of jealousy later. If it even came to that. I focused on Moondancer for now, and how she tried to keep hidden how she fidgeted with her hooves. She was conflicted. I did not exactly understand how or why, or what the exact nature of this conflict was. But I knew I could make it a bit easier on her. “The beds in here are awfully large for just one pony and I’m really not used to sleeping alone.” Her gaze fell down the hallway, in the direction Celestia’s and Luna’s bedchambers were. My eyes followed her gaze, but moved back to her. I stood by what I had said, despite her doubting expression.

I half-expected some hidden Night Guard to yell ‘Oh get on with it already!’ or something, but there was nothing. Just the stretching silence. One minute. Two. And finally, she hesitantly started to move again. Back in my direction. And noticing that made me smile.

Be there for a friend, I told myself, despite it being unnecessary.

I opened my door and cast a quick glance into the room, just to make sure that no sudden surprises were waiting inside. Like Luna in some very thrilling socks waiting on the bed, for example. It would not even have surprised me all that much. But no, the room was empty, dark and somewhat cold. Moondancer passed me by with her lantern, I followed suit and closed the door. And a few minutes later, after we each had been to the bathroom next door, we laid down on the bed. And again, I saw her struggle with herself. She kept a proper distance. Had her own blanket. I could read her well enough at this point to understand that she wanted to be closer, but did not dare. So I took that step for her. I closed that gap between us until I was lying pressed against her back. I even dared to put a hoof around her, hugging her from behind.

“I… do not remember sleepovers,” she remarked, barely audible.

“It’s fine,” I murmured into her mane. “Nothing you could do wrong. Just relax.”

I felt her shift around for a bit once or twice before she settled with a sigh and was truly able to do just that. Relax and enjoy something she might have needed for quite some time.

When I woke up the next morning, Moondancer was long gone. There was a little note on the bedside table, simply reading “Thank you.” I smiled lazily and then flopped over onto the other side and continued to sleep for another hour or so.

No enraged Luna barged into my room, demanding answers or presenting Moondancer’s head on a pike, so that was good. I instead just shifted down a couple of gears. I took my sweet time in the bathroom, I had a proper breakfast — even though I still decided to eat it on my way to the Archives instead of sitting down somewhere — and I felt refreshed and alive.

I did not catch a glimpse of Moondancer when I entered the Archives, or on my way to my desk. I had remembered that I had left my book and a mysterious lantern on the desk. Which I honestly felt bad for. I did not like leaving my mess for others to clean up. Much to my dismay, my desk had already been discovered. However, much to my delight — it had apparently been discovered by Moondancer. ‘Haremean’s Guide to Metallurgy, Volume Two’, was gone. In its place, I found a new book. One that was a lot smaller, and a lot lighter. However, I soon discovered that the title was not just a funny mixture of symbols meant to confuse readers. No, the entire book was written in those same weird symbols.

Luckily, my grumpy guardian angel had thought of that. I closed the book and turned it on its cover, discovering a note on the backside. “Origins in the Forbidden Jungle,” it read. Well. That was an adventure, from the sound of it. One I could actually deal with, because it meant research. The next couple of hours, I dove into the Archives properly, quickly scanning books upon books. First I researched what languages were frequently used in the Forbidden Jungle or its adjacent regions. Language-wise, that was not a lot. But goodness gracious, so many dialects. With sometimes significant alterations. So the next step was to find out what exactly my book was written in. And after a couple more hours, I had an answer to that: Centaur. Which already gave a clue to further narrow down the region this book or its writer had originated from. Centaur was commonly used in the Arimaspi Territory, which was west of the Forbidden Jungle.

With that little adventure done and dusted, I found myself a nice, heavy Centaur-Ponish dictionary and returned to my desk with a skip in my step. That! That was the kind of adventure I was well-equipped to deal with. A nice and short one. Where you stayed indoors. And mostly dealt with books and quirky cross-references.

Twilight would have loved it.

I usually tried to follow the philosophy of ‘work first, fun later’. Pinkie frequently tried to convert me to her own version of the saying: Make work fun. That, however, was easier said than done. What lay ahead of me was a grueling task indeed. The dictionary was massive, as Centaur seemed to be a surprisingly complex language with a lot of words. A lot.

And I had no clue about it. So I needed to search for a symbol. Translate that symbol. Search for the next one. And the symbols had no rhyme or reason to my untrained eye. I considered once again asking for help, but who would I even ask? I could hardly ask Celestia or Luna. They were busy with state business on most days. And I did not even know if they spoke the language to begin with. I did not know any language experts either. Did any of the other librarians have a firm grip on it? I even considered taking the book to Twilight Velvet, Twilight’s mother. She was a writer, right? So maybe she had learned a few pieces here and there for one of her stories? Then again, I still did not even know what she was writing.

At least I knew that Twilight did not know Centaur. Or had not known it the last time I had asked her. She was very quick in learning just about anything. But no. No, I could not involve her in helping me make her own gift, that would just feel wrong.

Moondancer had done a lot for me at this point. It was probably about time I invested something of my own. Time, nerves, blood and tears. Hopefully less of the latter two.

Sacrifices had been made. Life choices had been thoroughly regretted.

Five days had become a blur of sleep-deprivation and dull colors. I made progress, of course. Symbol by symbol, page by page. By now, I had enough notes stacked up to pretend I was writing my own book and I was almost done with it. And I had translated what? Twenty pages or so? In five days?

The issue was not the slow pace per se. I started to recognize symbols I had already looked up, just through sheer brute force of will and repetition. The issue was the complexity of the language itself. There were so many symbols to begin with and depending on their context, they could gain different meanings. A certain chain of symbols could describe a slow-moving river in a wide, green field. The same symbols with only two of them switched could make the river into a wild torrent.

I had known desperation before. I actually liked to think that I was quite familiar with the feeling. But the reasons for my fears and despair were usually less… tangible. More esoteric, or philosophical in nature. I was more of an existential crisis-stallion, and less of a ‘oh my goddess, I can’t cope with this anymore, please burn this’-stallion.

Five days. And this one book... well two, actually. These two books had almost broken me. Just… just how?!

I had dared to face a dreamscape creature centuries old, of such immeasurable power that even Luna, Princess of the Night, Guardian of the Dreamscape, did not dare face it alone. The memories I had gained due to my flashes told me of stories in which I dared to defy an invading changeling army, armed myself with nothing more than a shield and so much anger that it had transformed me into something wicked. And maybe scariest of them all, I had faced a running, yelling, very angry Applejack and somehow survived the beating she had given me.

How in my sweet Celestia’s name were two books bringing me down?!

“How is it going?” I heard Moondancer ask.

The mere sound of her voice was such a relief. It washed over me in a wave of cooling serenity. Something to distract me from this pain and misery. “Show mercy. Kill me,” I begged her without raising my muzzle from the table.

“Impressive. That good, hm?” she asked. I heard her walk over to me and she looked at my translation job so far. “That is… sloppy work.”

The pause at least let me think that she tried not to be too harsh. But I could hear it. I could hear all the things on the tip of her tongue that she had managed to keep in. Shoddy translation. Many mistakes. Needs more fire. And I agreed. Despite the time I had sunk into this damned project, I agreed wholeheartedly. It was awful.

We both remained silent for a while. She did not move. She did not touch my notes. And I, I could not be bothered to do anything right now.

She finally broke the silence. “You should take a day off. You look awful. Take a bath. Eat. Sleep. Preferably in that order.”

I considered being snarky about it, but then I remembered her little ‘Thank you’-card on the bedside table and could not bring myself to speak any harsh words. Even though I had no reason to expect anything else but those from her. I sighed and tried to smile. “What? So that I may return tomorrow to find yet another helpful book on my desk? You know… I had not managed to properly thank you for that. You’ve been avoiding me these last four days.”

“Five.”

“Right. Sorry. Point stands though.” I finally raised my head again and looked at her. And I was surprised to see her strangely bereft of her usual defiance. Maybe she really was trying hard to open up. “Do you regret the sleepover?” I asked, following a hunch.

“No! No,” she quickly — too quickly — replied. She even noticed it herself and grimaced a little. And finally added a quiet “And yes.”

So she did, and did not. Well. Being someone who struggled with a lot of dichotomies myself, I could somewhat understand that. “Would you like to explain that further?” I asked.

“No,” she answered in measured neutrality.

I smiled a little lopsided and nodded. “Fair enough. Do it anyway though. Please.”

She looked around as if to make sure we were alone and unheard. Problem was: There were bookshelves in all directions, thrice as high as she was, and labyrinthine in their array. It was a jungle made of wood, paper and ink. Really the best kind of jungle. Just not ideal when one tried to remain unheard.

“It was really nice,” she finally relented, “Too nice.”

As usual when these things were concerned, she did not exactly give me much to work with. But I figured it was enough anyway, if barely. I did understand her predicament after all. She wanted more. A repeat or two or twenty or forever. No, not forever. She was a loner, a recluse at heart. She would eventually grow tired of this. She would happily, merrily return to walking home alone, sleeping alone, being alone. And that would be fine. But right now, it was not. Right now, she wanted this and maybe even feared it a little? What it meant? What it might do to her? Without further explanation, that was harder to tell. And I was certain that I would not get a lot more out of her.

But did it really matter? Did it have to?

I stood up from my chair and once again felt that nasty blood flow issue slowly rear its ugly head and subsequently starting to sort itself out. Ignoring the prickling sensation in my legs, I walked over to her and hugged her. She was less surprised this time and melted into it a lot quicker. The hesitation I noticed this time was born from a different source.

“Does this feel nice?” I asked her, and noticing her drawing breath, I quickly added: “And don’t come up with winded explanations or try to deflect it. Just… listen to yourself and answer as simply as you can. You don’t even necessarily have to answer aloud.”

“It does,” she did anyway.

I nodded. “Does that feel nice all the time?” It only took her a brief moment before shaking her head. “Alright. So what makes you think this will be any different? I don’t mind the company. Really. I don’t.”

“Then why are you not with… you know.”

I pulled back just enough to see her face and smiled a little sheepishly. “Heh. Ehrm. I came here for this project of mine and… I know I could. I could marsh over each and every night. It would be nice. I don’t… I’m not used to sleeping alone. And I don’t like it very much. But I would get distracted. I would lose a lot of time. And right now, with this bugger over there, I need that time. If I don’t finish this stupid translation sometime soon, I’m gonna go nuts and set this place ablaze. And then you would need to kill me. And that would be messy. For all involved.”

She sighed. “You are not as funny as you think.”

I chuckled a little. “Yeah. I know.”

For a moment, we were both silent. Until she spoke up again, voicing a question born from worry, or maybe curiosity. I could not tell. “And I do not distract you?”

“Can’t say you do, no,” I answered honestly.

I saw her eyes wander. Over to the table, to the dictionary, my notes, the book written in Centaur. At some point, once this was finished, I would go again. I always did. Because at the end of the day, I did not live here in Canterlot. This city was not mine, not my home, and it would never be. I did not belong here. I would leave, and she would stay, and that was okay. She could come visit whenever she wanted. If only she actually did that when she wanted.

“I… I will… can I…” She grimaced, frustrated with her own inability to string a couple of words together into a coherent sentence.

I smiled. “Come by whenever you want, I’ll leave the door open.” I hugged her once more and when I pulled back, I threw one last, spiteful look at the desk and its offerings. “I hope you burn in Tartarus, where you belong!” I hissed at the two books, before dragging my heavy hooves off to do just what Moondancer had told me. In the order she had proposed.

It was late into the night when I heard the door creak open. I smiled and shifted in the bed to prop myself up a little. I saw her silhouette sneak around, she tried to be stealthy and quiet. She had not noticed me ‘waking up’. “No lantern this time?” I asked and chuckled at her startled yelp.

Her horn sparked to life and illuminated her face — and the lantern she carried on her back. She must have extinguished it outside. “Did I wake you up?”

Her question admittedly took me by surprise. I had anticipated some snarky remark, maybe a couple of accusations. Instead, she looked like she was suffering from a bad conscience. “Don’t worry. I was actually kind of waiting for you.” Aaaand she blushed. Perfect.

She had a rather aggressive pout as she saw me grin. For a couple of seconds, we just stared at each other, before she set the lantern aside and came over to the bed. I was about to tease her for forgetting the bathroom, but then I noticed the faint scent of some fruity shampoo and could not help but silently chuckle to myself. She was really going to some lengths to make this easier for herself. I did not mind.

She once again rolled up in her own blanket and this time, she scooched closer all by herself, with only a little bit of hesitation. “And you are sure this is okay?” she asked quietly.

“Well, Luna hasn’t killed me yet, so I’m assuming she’s either fine with it, or doesn’t know,” I joked. “And if she doesn’t know, I’ll tell her at some point, but there’s nothing she needs to worry about, so I don’t see any reason for urgency here. Aaaand I had an idea to make it feel more like a normal sleepover.” I grinned triumphantly while levitating a brush up from the bedside table.

She stared at the brush for a moment, before turning her quizzical gaze to me. “You intend to brush my hair?”

“Uh-huh! Not sure about you, but I always like that. Feels… oh, what would Rarity say? ‘It feels simply divine, darling!’ And it’s an established sleepover ritual.” I was quite happy with my solution. My own little contribution to ease her worries. But then I saw her shift uncomfortably and I realized that maybe, this was less than ideal. I just did not understand why. “Alright? Uhm. A brush is too much? Too girly?”

She sighed. “It is… a nice gesture. I am sorry, I just… I do not like others brushing my hair.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, no, that’s alright,” I hastily replied and lowered the brush back down.

There was a little bit of an awkward lull, a dip in the conversation while she shifted again to make herself comfortable. “Could you… would you hug me again?” she quietly asked.

I quietly snorted in mild amusement and nodded. “Gladly. You’re very huggable.”

“Shut up. I have no idea how Twilight puts up with you.”

I snickered and put my hoof around her and found her all too happy within my embrace. Only then did she allow herself to retire for the day and only then did I get to see just how tired she was. Moondancer was asleep within less than thirty seconds. I lay awake for a couple minutes more, listened to her evenly breathing and pondered the freshly labeled ‘brush incident’. I would gladly call her my friend. After all — what I currently tried to do for her was not exactly something a pony did to — or rather for — a stranger or superficial acquaintance. And yet there was apparently still a lot I did not know about her. It was a good thing to be reminded of, as that revelation held true for all the ponies in my life. Celestia had lived for thousands of years. I would never truly know everything. Even Twilight surprised me on occasion with things about her that I simply did not know. The closer a pony got to another, the more they knew about each other, the rarer became these instances of genuine surprise. And over time, that might lull one into a false sense of security. One might forget that knowing everything about the other was simply impossible.

“Thank you,” I sleepily mumbled into her mane and rested my head behind hers.

The next morning came and Moondancer was still there this time. Sleeping like a log.

I immediately had the usual devious idea of making a mess of the bed by having breakfast here. So I set to my new list of tasks. First of all, I snuck out of the bed and out of the room to flag down a castle servant and politely ask if somepony could bring a breakfast for two to my room. Simple enough and since this was a guest room, there were fewer questions asked than I had anticipated.

I had to sneak back into my room after that and out the other door into the bathroom. I did my entire routine and returned to find Moondancer still sleeping, which was both a testament to the quality of the curtains, and a telling sign of the extent of her exhaustion.

With nothing else to prepare and not wanting to be deemed a creep, I found myself in a strange position. Sitting around silently was getting harder and harder to do. Walking around, however, had the unnecessary risk of making noise and waking her up. And I could hardly sit down on the bed and stare at her, for the aforementioned reason. Lucky me, however — I only had to endure this predicament for a few precious minutes before a knock from the door rang out.

I sprung up and quickly moved over before whoever brought the breakfast could knock again. “Thank you!” I told the servant, pulled the trolley into the room and closed the door again. But it was too late. Either the knock had woken her up, or our voices. She stirred and, with some minor difficulty, sat up, blearily looking around the room and not recognizing much of it. “Wha—… What is this?” she asked and tried to politely stifle a yawn, meanwhile pointing a hoof at the trolley.

“This is breakfast!” I grinned and presented the entire thing with a triumphant flair. It was a simple, but nice affair. A couple of slices of bread, some toasted, a few slices of cheese, a small selection of jams and two little bowls of fruit salad.

She looked at it in disbelief. And that moment dragged on and on, making me feel increasingly antsy. Did I overdo it? Maybe breakfast in bed had too much of a romantically inclined background? Was I making things weird?

“Just to make this perfectly clear,” she started with a stern tone, “this is your room, and your bed, and this was your idea! I am not responsible for cleaning anything of this up, and I am not to be held responsible for any crumbs in your bed!”

I laughed. Both in relief, and genuine mirth. “Duly noted. Now, what do you want to start with?”

Instead of asking, she nodded to my confirmation and levitated one of the salad bowls over to herself. Self-service, fair enough. In the next few minutes, we spoke little. The quality of food present here in the palace was always admirable, even for something as simple as a selection of cheese slices. And I could not help but smile a little whenever I noticed how cautious she ate. Despite her harsh words, she still tried to keep the mess to a minimum, which obviously resulted in me making more of it than her. Probably just how she preferred it.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday,” I started after I had decided to be done with breakfast. “I think I might have fallen asleep in the bathtub. Twice. Most of the day is a blur, with some massive ‘I probably slept?’-holes in it. But then again, so is almost the entire last week. You seem pretty tuckered out yourself yesterday. Are you alright? How are the books?”

“You are welcome,” she replied and used a napkin to get rid of some jam on her chin. “I admit I might have put the weight of unnecessary expectations upon myself. Honestly, at this point I am starting to worry that I might have somehow invested in this nonsensical endeavor of yours. As for the translation… I managed to finish that.”

There was a pregnant pause in which I tried, and failed, to process what she just had said. “You what?”

Moondancer at least had the decency to blush a little, though she did not avoid eye contact. “I finished it. Do not make that out to be a monumental achievement. It—“

“Are you kidding me?!” I half-yelled, half-laughed, before hugging her fiercely. This one, I giddily decided, she had to endure no matter what. I smushed my cheek against hers and felt like yelling again, hollering in joy and relief. Of course I showed some self-restraint and did not — her ears were right there, after all. But I had a little internal celebration. The two villains who had bested me, fallen at last. My friend had taken revenge for my defeat! How glorious.

When I finally gave her free, I grinned like a madpony. “You’re way too modest, Moonie. You did something incredible, especially given the short timeframe.”

She struggled for a moment with her intent to dispute that point, but soon recognized the telltale signs of this endeavor being moot. So she gave up and allowed herself a small smile, carried by a wary, cautious pride. “I had several factors working to my benefit. While your notes were horribly sloppy and your horn writing is a disaster, it did provide me with a basis to work off on. In addition to that, I did not have to translate the entire book, since I already knew what you were searching for. I just translated the relevant passages.”

And she really did make it sound easy. But I was not buying it. However, there was no reason to push this any further as well. She would start feeling uncomfortable with the compliment at some point and I tried to stay away from that line, just as to not even risk crossing it. “Alright, so… can I have it? Or can we talk about it?”

Much to my delight, she nodded. “We can talk about it. In fact, we should. After my translation of the core passages and some adjacent pieces, I came to the conclusion that you might be in way over your head. You are searching for two very rare materials. Documentation for their presence only exists in one place and one place only. This place is a very dangerous one for our kind. Outside of Equestrian borders. Near the borders of a hostile territory. The core passage talks about trials, Dreamwalker. It appears to be some kind of old ritual, and these trials… their descriptions are unnecessarily vague. And they sound quite dangerous.”

She was worried, that much was clear. For my safety. Maybe even for the safety of Equestria. After all — a single pony coming too close to the borders of the Arimaspi Territory could lead to an incident. But Twilight had faced more than her fair share of trails. And she had been fine. Heck, I had faced a couple of my own and came out stronger. Or at least alive. “I appreciate your concern, Moondancer. Really, I do. But I need to know more — all, preferably — before making my own decision.”

While she was not exactly thrilled to hear that, she seemed to have expected as much. And I would have bet that she would have said almost the exact same thing, had our positions been reversed. So she started to recite the legend from memory. An impressive memory, and an impressive legend. Most of it seemed like the raving delusions and fanatic praise of some jungle-dwelling barbaric culture, probably long gone and dusted. But I knew for a fact that the Forbidden Jungle held dozens, if not hundreds of ruins, temples and other structures.

And there was a passage in this legend that really made my smithing hooves itch.

[…] And with all trials passed, he shall emerge, clad in gold and silver blessed by sun and moon, and bestow his greatest treasure. […]

Making sense of the flowery language was easy enough in this case. Someone underwent these trials and emerged with both materials I sought. The trials themselves sounded like some nasty business, true. But: They did not sound like they were designed to kill. Or even maim. They sounded like they were designed with the sole intent of separating the wheat from the chaff. The worthy from the unworthy.

Of course, with the trial locations probably being in a state of disrepair for a couple of centuries or something, they could very well have become dangerous over time. Not to speak of potential traps against intruders, and the ‘usual’ dangers one had to expect when traveling into a jungle.

And the heat. The Celestia-damned, incredible heat. And the humidity.

A. K. Yearling had never actually written about that, had she? Daring Do was just fine and dandy within the jungle. No mention of being sweaty or uncomfortable. Probably was not exactly what her readership wanted to read about.

After Moondancer had told me everything the legend had to offer, I still asked for a transcription. And she was willing to provide one after we returned to the Archives. I helped clean up my desk, and we celebrated the end of my torture when she took her rarely used lunch break. By going outside and incinerating my notes.

“You are still going to do it, are you not?” she asked with a heavy heart, while we watched the fire consume the paper.

“I think so, yeah,” I admitted. “These last hours, I’ve been really successful in telling myself that this isn’t all that bad. Nothing too worrisome. Nothing too dangerous. Just a little bit of jungle, you know. I’m not stupid, of course. I think I’m starting to formulate a plan. A hopefully decent plan that will keep me alive once this rare bout of optimism eventually runs dry. But before I can follow up on that idea, I have to finish these preparations. I’m very grateful for your help and the transcription especially. But the next step is something I should actually be able to do myself. I need to figure out where these trial locations are. Shouldn’t be too hard, there’s a lot of landscape descriptions in there. So I’m going to dig through the entire map section the Archives have of that region and hopefully figure this out. I’m halfway decent with maps. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

She remained silent for a while. The fire had long since done its work, and the paper was mere ash. She sighed. “And after that? Assuming you manage to get the locations. What then? You said you had a plan that would be better than ‘hope for the best’.”

“I said ‘I’m starting on a plan’! That’s like ‘I have an idea’!” I corrected with a lopsided grin. “But no, seriously, don’t worry. I think I’m going to try to convince Celestia to come with me.”

“Oh.” For some reason, she sounded genuinely surprised. Which in turn surprised me. Maybe this was about the concept of The Princess Celestia. The perfect and immaculate ruler that sat on the throne in Canterlot. That image was hard to unite with Celestia, that mare that had fun playing a prank or two and loved running around enjoying her life. I was pretty sure she would be up for an adventure. And she would be most certainly well-equipped to handle whatever would come our way. “I guess that would work,” Moondancer added belatedly.

I smirked. “See? Good plan. Couldn’t be safer.”

We returned inside. Lunch break was over. Moondancer went back to her work, which meant reading some more and kindly pointed me in the right direction before she started. I needed three more desks just to keep all the maps around. And getting all the locations took another three days. This time however, I did not feel frustrated. I barely felt the time pass at all, since this was quite frankly a lot of fun. Many of the maps were from different times. I had to compare how the depicted landscape had changed. I had to ask Moondancer how old the original book was, according to her estimation anyway. I had to dig through some history books to see if any events might have changed the landscapes further. It was more like a puzzle wherein I had to search for the pieces first and then make them fit.

And each and every night, Moondancer snuck into my room and enjoyed something as simple as another pony’s company and warmth. And it was enough. It helped. I helped.

At least that was what I thought and hoped for.

By the end of it all, I held a single map. A copy. With several locations marked. It should have come as no surprise that they were in the western parts of the Forbidden Jungle. And that they were relatively close to each other. I had even marked down a perfect location right in the middle, on a little hill that would be ideal for a base camp. With each trial location within a day’s worth of travel.

It started to dawn on me that this might very well be my first ‘real’ adventure.

And I finally felt sufficiently prepared.