A/N: Please comment with any grammatical errors, and general critique and thoughts, and please enjoy the story!
“...And that, little children, is how I almost became mince-meat at the bottom of the Ghastly Gorge!” The grey old man grinned and laughed at the mixed reactions of the young humans and ponies who had been listening.
“Was it scary? It sounds like it!” a young filly with a purple coat and emerald mane squeaked.
“Ah, not as scary as the time I picked a fight with a dragon!” the group of youngsters gasped in awe before he finished, “but, that’s a tale for another time little ones! Besides, I’m sure ya’ must be off home now, don’t want your parents worryin’, ya’ know?”
A collective groan rose from the group as the young ones dispersed, leaving behind only a light lavender unicorn with a white mane and ice-blue eyes. With a notebook and pencil in her magical grip, she stepped over to the man and smiled.
“I really do like your stories, Mr. Warden! I’m trying to write them all down, if you don’t mind that is?”
He chuckled at her enthusiasm, "'Course not lass, but later? I need somethin' to eat."
Morning Star giggled, “Oh alright, Rederik. I’d like to hear another one of your stories sometime.”
“Well,” Rederik scratched his scraggly greyed face and glanced at the sun. “I suppose I could tell another now, but ya’d have to buy me some lunch!”
Morning Star beamed and nodded enthusiastically, helping the old man rise to his feet.
The awning of the small cafe shaded the man and mare from the midday sun that scorched early summer in Ponyville. They each had a sandwich, Morning Star choosing dandelions and lettuce on rye, and Rederik having venison slices on white. He chewed thoughtfully on his meal, pausing between bites to chuckle out a few comments about his day and the town.
“Ya’ know, when I first arrived here in town, there wasn’t a bit of meat to be found! It was wretched! But now ya’ can get a good cut of beef around e’ry corner! It’s wonderful!” he cackled at his own remark and went on, “So, you wanna’ hear ‘nother story, eh?”
She perked up at this with a wide smile, “Absolutely! Actually, I have a request for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Well, of course young lady, what’d ya’ like to hear?” he inquired, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
“I’d like to know the story of your life.”
Rederik sat back in his chair, running a hand over the grey stubble that covered his chin. “My life, ya’ say? Ya’ wanna’ know ‘bout every tree I’ve watered and all the ladies I’ve lain with?”
Morning brought a hoof to her face as the sound of his chortling echoed throughout the small square the cafe sat in.
He let his giggling subside before he continued, “I know what ya’ mean, lass, but haven’t ya’ heard this story from anyone else? There’s a bunch’a men here who could tell ya’ this tale.”
She nodded, “That is true, but I want to hear it from your perspective, you are the great hero Rederik Warden after all!”
“Well, I don’t know ‘bout great, but I’ve done some things in my life ya’ could call heroic, but everyone knows those stories.” He replied, then promptly took a swig of his apple juice.
“Then tell me the stories nopony knows. I am writing a biography on you, I want to hear everything!”
Rederik laughed to himself, then fixed his eyes on the mare’s face. “You’re just like ya’ great grandmother, ya’ know. Twilight Sparkle wanted to write every little thing down when I first came here, like I was spewing gold from my mouth!” He paused to take another sip. “For the avid reader I s’pose I am, though. Alright, I’ll tell ya’ my story. Parts of it are gruesome, though. I know you pony folk have weak stomachs.”
Morning Star smiled under her glasses, her eyes lighting up. “I think I can handle it for the sake of learning a bit more about you.”
The old hero leaned back in his chair, nursing his glass of juice. He was silent for a moment, looking off into the distant mountains behind his companion, before he finally spoke, “Very well. It all began many years ago, long before you were born, when I was just a lad and your great grandmother a lass...”
I came from a small village high in the green and white mountains, a bit north of the smaller sea. The name of my home isn’t important, well, wasn’t. It’s probably gone now, burned to the ground by the legions.
We were all scared. I was still a young boy, with only my mother to watch over me, but she couldn’t keep me safe from them, let alone herself. She was so beautiful, with the biggest, greenest eyes a woman could have and hair like the red autumn leaves. But I digress.
Men would come back from their hunts or they would be refugees from far off clans to the south, and they all said one thing:
Beware the soldiers of Roma, none of us could stop them.
Gods above, did we try though. We fought so fiercely, and they kept walking, with their death machines that could fire spikes for what seemed like an endless distance and their walls of shields that pushed us back with every step of their marching feet.
They killed my father. They cut him down and the rest of the clan Riswold, or so the refugees from their village say. He had gone to speak with some man over there, I don’t remember his name, I think he was good at making swords. That doesn’t matter anymore now.
My mother was broken. She loved my father for gods know how long, since the day they saw one another I suppose. I took the best care of her I could, but she died in her sleep a month later. No one could figure out why.
I was 14 suns old, I think. I can’t remember exactly, it was long ago, but on that fateful morning, they came. We heard their yelling and the marching of their feet. The men with us armed themselves and ran down the green slope to meet death, and did they! The Romans were merciless, piercing any that got too close, and pinning others to the ground with throwing spears.
I remember watching my countrymen jumping onto their shell of shields, some being forced off while others fell into the mass of soldiers. They pushed our men back, felling any man that was within their reach. The wheels of their immense weapons of war followed the marching of their boots, creaking and groaning in the early morning light.
They were giant bows on wheels, ballistas I believe they called them. Giant arrows were flung at us, striking down any poor soul in the path of its shot. We didn’t know what to do but fight, that is, until the Vitki Alrik came out. A Vitki is a wizard among our people, talented with using the runes, our magical writings and glyphs. He had this strange thing in his hand, it looked alot like a metal stick, and he threw it into the ground where it stuck like one of those spears in my kin’s chest.
We saw light come from the object, and a circle birthed from its shaft. It formed an immense door of light that shimmered like the morning sun on the surface of a lake. We could not see what was behind that door though, and yet Vitki Alrik told us to run into it anyway. Many panicked and fled away, only to be cut down by the legions behind us. They tossed torches homes, scorching all the things we owned and loved. I saw no other choice but to trust Alrik’s word.
I jumped through.
I cannot even begin to described the things I saw through that door. It was like watching the gods themselves paint on the canvas of an eternal black void. Light of every color my eye can see shot in all directions, and I watched it all behind a wavering window of water.
And then it was gone, replaced by snow capped mountains not too different than the ones I knew and loved. But the land at the foot of these peaks though, this land was nothing like I’ve ever seen before. The ground was dry and crackled, and every footstep kicked up a storm of dust and loose dirt. When I fell from the doorway and onto my knees in this new land, I looked up at the sun overheard, a bloated yellow disc that scorched my face and shoulders and made the ground beneath me burn like the coals in a smithy.
Behind me the door still stood open, with my kin and kith and countrymen from afar pouring out of it like a mountain spring. They all fell to the ground and looked up at this cursed sun, so big and hot. The dry air scraped at our throats as we huddled together and watched our relatives come through the door.
Then they stopped.
The door stood open, but no one walked through. We watched, and we watched, but it finally seemed that we are all that was left. We talked amongst ourselves, babbling and crying and some even yelling at one another. Our dirty, tear stained faces turned back to the door, only to see the last thing we could have ever wanted.
A Roman fell out through the door, spear and shield in hand, then another and even more followed. So we ran. We ran as fast as we could towards the closest mountain, many of us scattering out into wasteland.
I tried to stay with a group, and about seventy of us ran as far as we could, escaping the few Romans that had gotten through. We were lost now, and we didn’t know where the doorway had gone. By the god’s eye, we weren’t even sure if the door was still there. The blasted lands stretched on forever, my only hope was for the nearest mountain, I knew we could find shelter there.
For days we walked, dying under the daytime sun. When we didn’t walk, we looked for shelter under craggy rocks, many of us being bitten by the serpents that often resided in those crevices.
After what seemed an eternity, we reached the mountain’s feet, forty three of us. The rest had died from the elements or the poisons of the wasteland creatures that seemed to hide in every niche. The scree slopes of these mountains were topped by seemingly unreachable caps of snow. Of the forty three of us, seventeen were women of age, fifteen were men of age, three were young boys, of which I was one, and were four young girls.
We had nothing, just our weapons, small amounts of food and no water. But we did not starve, nor did we die of thirst. We were thirsty and hungry, yes, but not as much as was possible. There was no reason we should be alive, we should’ve died of thirst. I must have sweated out an entire lake on that journey, and yet I’m still here. I don’t understand, maybe I will someday. We shouldn’t have survived, but we did.
We set up a small camp in the shadow of the mountains, the sun setting behind them for the third time since we came to this world. The coolness of the peak’s shade was glorious, our skin practically steaming in the coming darkness. I laid myself against a flat rock and looked up at the stars that were slowly emerging in the twilight, but none of them I recognized. They formed strange patterns in the sky, and the way they twinkled and shone on the ocean-like surface of the heavens seemed so alien to me. Despite its oddity, the skies here, oh by the gods above, the skies here were so beautiful. Nothing like it exists back home, never did the stars pulsate with such light, nor did the sky itself seem alive with the curtains of light I saw.
The last of our food was eaten that night, and that greatly perturbed one man who had to give up his stale bread to a little girl. I heard his yelling from my spot near the edge of camp.
“What do you mean she gets my bread? I’m starving like a newborn calf over here!” he screamed at the girls mother.
“She’s young and weak, she needs it more than you! You sniveling coward of a man, no one here wants you around!”
This man was named Drest, and the girl’s mother was right. No one liked him, all he did was steal and lie and mock everyone around him. The only reason we bothered keeping him around was that he was a fantastic hunter. No one had seen a man as quick and efficient as him.
The screaming went on. “Well let’s see your little girl go out and fetch us a buck then! See what all that extra strength did for her!”
By now the girl’s father had arrived, Armel was his name. I liked Armel, he was a quiet man who rarely ever spoke, but the way he held himself did not require words. Many respected him both for his wisdom and his skill at the forge. Did I mention he was also a very large man? When you’re as big as he, you don’t need to speak much to get your point across. Him simply stepping up next to his wife was enough to make Drest back off and lurch towards the edge of the camp.
Someone had lit a fire with some wood pilfered from a dried up tree on a nearby slope. I wasn’t really paying attention though. I didn’t need the heat for all of the sun I had today, and the stars enthralled me in a similar way a pretty raven-haired maiden might.
That night I slept surprisingly well.
The morning came with a pleasant surprise; others of our contrymen had found us, our campfire acting like a beacon in the night. An additional thirty six joined our group, bringing our number to seventy nine. Hopefully we can find more before we leave this blasted land. There had been a lot of talk about where we would go, though most of us agreed that we could go over this ridge, we didn’t know what would come after.
What little we had in terms of a camp was packed up, the embers of the fire kicked out and the wood picked up. The ridge itself was a lot of crumbly flat stone that tended to fall apart in your fingers if you found a handhold to grip. The resulting pieces tumbled down the slope and bashed into any unfortunate climber behind you, much to their chagrin. Even as we got higher, the heat still managed to cook us inside and out.
One of the more energetic young ones got to the top a little before us, and all the shouting in joy that he did only helped to lighten our hearts. We saw why upon our joining him. The ridge quickly dipped back down into a flat plain, and off to our left was the largest expanse of green I had ever laid eyes upon. Where there is green, there is game. Food.
We hurried down the treacherous cliffs and slopes, the scree slipping under my feet and the rocks crumbling if I went too fast. A scream rang out in front of me, nearly scaring me out of my boots. A young girl ahead of me on a flat rocky shelf fell, the stone giving out beneath her feet. She was no more than sixteen, I’d say, but that’d mean nothing if I didn’t act in a few moments. Me and another man, presumably her father, dove for her hand. He was just out of reach, but thank the gods I was lucky enough to grab her by the wrist before she could plummet to her death. She was wailing as I clung desperately to her arm, her weight slowly pulling me over the edge with her.
I thought, this was it, I’m going to go down with her and be a stain on the rocks below. The man beside me grabbed me by the waist and heaved me back up, bringing the girl with her. We flopped onto the rock, far from its edge and sucked as much air into our lungs as we can. The adrenaline subsided, and I looked off to the side to see the small crowd gathering on the shelf, ignoring the others that continued on their way down and cooing to the girl. She was sniffling in the man’s arms, and looking up at a woman that had swooped in from behind him and embraced her tightly. He left the two to console one another, launching himself up from his kneeling position and stepping towards me. I was propping myself up, my arms weak from holding her over the cliff, when he thrust his meaty hand towards me. I gratefully took it and let him pull me up to my feet.
“What’s your name, lad?” he asked, his voice deep like an auroch’s bellow
“It’s Rederik, sir.” I responded, swaying on my feet and nearly stumbling.
He caught me by the arm and held me steady, pulling a waterskin from his belt. “Easy there lad, have a drink of this. My name is Ulrich, and you’ve saved my daughter. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Rederik.”
After a swig of his water, I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my dusted tunic and nodded, “It was nothing, sir.”
“Nothing?” Ulrich laughed at me, “that was a bit more than nothing, boy! Nearly flew off the cliff there you did! But thank you all the same. Did you parents make it through the door?”
I shook my head, explaining to him their fates.
He nodded sadly at me, and took a deep breath. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that lad, would you like to walk with us?”
I nodded, and he put his arm behind me, patted me on the back and walked me back to his daughter and wife. We found the two standing and hugging, though they broke it and looked towards us expectantly.
“Rederik, this is my wife Amena, and my daughter Cerridwen.”
His wife approached me first, bombarding me with thanks and hugs and telling me what a wonderful young man I was. She stepped back and appraised me like a rare trinket, giving her daughter and opening to greet me. She stepped forward timidly, averting her eyes and muttering a soft ‘thank you.’
She was such a beautiful young girl, with dark ringlets of hair cascading down her shoulders and framing her milky white face. Her emerald eyes occasionally locked onto mine, but not for long. It was apparent she took after her mother; they essentially looked like twins, though one was much older and more matronly.
We stood about awkwardly while Ulrich explained to his wife our arrangement, which she nodded fervently in agreement to.
“Having another able man around will be very good!” She had said.
“...And so the four of us continued our climb down the rocky cliffs, onward to our new home.” The old man sighed, draining his glass of its last drops of juice.
Morning Star let her pencil drop to the table. “I had heard this story from a few other humans, but none of them ever told me of what happened before they came here...”
“Gruesome stuff, isn’t it? That’s all I’ll tell ya’ today, but if ya’ buy me lunch tomorrow, I’ll gladly tell ya’ more.” He said, grinning deviously at the thought of another free meal.
“Deal!” They shook hand and hoof, and bid each other their farewells.
End of Part 1
The old man and the young mare settled once more at the little cafe, the awning shielding them from the midday sun. Today he had chosen a mixture of berries and apples, while she had her usual dandelions.
“Ya’ know Mornin’ Star, it’s been ‘bout three hundred years since we all came here to Equestria.” Rederik said after popping a raspberry into his mouth.
“Oh I know, men live awfully long!” She piped up after taking a bite of her sandwich.
The old man brought a hand to his chin, stroking the grey stubble thoughtfully, “We weren’t meant to live this long. I shoulda’ died two and a half lifetimes ago. I remember Twilight Sparkle telling me ‘bout this thing called, er, what was it,” Rederik Scratched his head, then bounced in triumph, “Ah yes, ambient energies! Incredible stuff.”
Morning tilted her head at the man, “You mean the background magical signature of the world?“
He nodded, “Aye, that stuff. It made us stronger, tougher, faster, so much better than what we were before...” Rederik swallowed, his eyes glazing over momentarily. “Anyway, back to the story, eh?”
The journey continued on, out of those blasted lands. We don’t know what happened to the soldiers of Roma, but we were far enough away now and into these woods to really care. The forest itself was more swampy, really. Plenty of pools filled with fetid water that stinked of rot dotted the area, with their share of mosquitos and biting flies. I would’ve picked a better place, but we didn’t have much choice.
I plowed on through the mess with the rest of the survivors, sticking close to Ulrich and his family. The man positively radiated wellness, a sort of upbeat determination oozed from him and infected all of us.
We survived, and we will thrive in this new place. That’s what we all thought.
We trudged on through the mud, the sticky substance tugging at our boots and legs and leeching the heat from our bodies. It was a dramatic change from the dry, sun-blasted badlands, to this cool and damp nuisance we found ourselves in.
I could hear the men talking ahead of us. They spoke of where we would go, and the general consensus was north. I looked up at the sun breaking through the canopy, tracing its movement and guessing the direction we were headed. It was still halfway to the zenith, with the morning relatively young. I hoped north would bring me a dry place to sit, that muck was dreadful.
“How you doin’, lad?” Ulrich spoke up, jerking me from my thoughts.
A slimy, serpentine form rose out of the water, the sunlight shining green off of its surface. The thing was easily as long as 20 men are tall and as wide as a rowboat, with overlapping scales that shone with the color of the algae on the surface of the water. Its vast head swiveled to look at us, with large eyes like perfectly cut crystals blinking away the muck that clung to its lids. A mouth with many rows of small, dagger-like teeth opened, emitting a blast of acrid and hot air that rushed over us. Many stumbled back, while some men rushed forward to put themselves between us and the beast.
The massive jaws closed, a thin tongue snaking out to lick its lips clean. Then it’s gaze focused on us, moving from person to person.
It hummed, its nostrils flaring and its great green eyes glowing with fascination, “What... What have we here? I’ve never seen your likes before in this swamp... little walkers.”
The beast’s voice was like the thunder before a summer storm, carrying with it a warm moistness in the air. We all stood in a silent awe at the creature before us. It was a dragon, a real dragon. The fact that I was not resting in this beast’s belly was surprising, I had expected the lot of us to be devoured by now. No, it spoke inquisitively, it wanted to know.
A man stepped forward and spoke to the dragon, “I am Danehil, and we are what’s left of our village.”
The dragon moved its head down very close to Danehil, leveling its great eye with his. “Danehil... interesting. And what has happened to your people, that you walk through my old swamp? It is not often I see those who can speak to me out here, though my lonesome is all I need.”
The man was silent a moment, as if calculating the events of his life to try and figure a suitable answer for the beast. “W-we were attacked, mighty dragon, but our Vitki sent us to this place. We are so far from home, and we don’t know if we’ll ever be back.”
A thump was felt as the dragon rested its great head on a rotten log. “So far from home... Home is important, where we all can sit and be content with what we have. This swamp is my home, these trees my family, and this mud my friend. I would do anything to keep my home safe. I don’t need a hoard like the others, I am content with what I have, as we all should be.”
Danehil opened his mouth, but was unsure what to say. We all looked on with a mixture of fear and curiosity as the dragon spoke.
“What do you call your people, little walker?” the dragon asked.
“We are the Helvetii!” He proclaimed proudly.
A rumbling snicker rolled out of the great emerald creature’s throat, “Such spirit for something so small. It has been so long since I’ve seen the heroes. Your kind and mine share many similarities... ah, I always forget myself, it’s not often I receive visitors, you see. I am called Drul, the sire of many dragons who live this day.”
Whispers passed between the group as the meaning of Drul’s words was being debated. Danehil was talking to a man next to him, while the dragon watched impassively at the commotion in his swamp.
I felt something inside me as I gazed into the green eye of the lizard. His immense pupil locked on mine, and lurched his face down towards mine, effectively silencing the group. I couldn’t look away, his entire iris filled my vision.
“You don’t know who the heroes were, do you hatchling?” Drul elevated his head, speaking out to the group, “none of you know of your kind’s history?”
No one spoke, instead looking to one another in confusion and worry. Many eyes were fixed themselves on the dragon, awaiting an explanation.
Drul heaved a gale of a sigh and spoke, “Climb upon my back, heroes. I shall take you to the river north of here where your kind are more suited. The swamp is a fine place for me, but no place for heroes.”
The earth shuddered as the bulk of Drul’s mass moved beneath the mud and water. What was once a serpentine beast, now heaved into a massive creature with arms that pulled themselves from the mud, and legs that pushed its abdomen from its resting place. He spread his great wings, flinging silt and water in all directions, and was finally free of the swamps grasp.
He maneuvered himself towards us, careful not to disturb the trees around him, and lowered his body so we might climb in. There was enough room upon his back, that a group three times our size could recline with space to stretch our legs.
“I must be careful not to hit the trees. I am alone out here, but this swamp is my home. The trees are my friends, the water my family, and the insects my children. Traveling may take some time, but we will reach a place where you may rest and sit upon dry ground, as I know you heroes love.”
And so we were off, riding upon a dragon’s back.
Author's Note
Authors notes eh? Neato. It's been a looooong time since I've written anything, and I feel I'm starting up again. We'll see how long I last. Please point out any errors, of course, I don't have a pre-reader right now, and I'm going to be doing short chapters that I can release more frequently and will keep me engaged in what can be a very tedious process.
Hope ya'll enjoyed!
