Chapters Saturday, November 13th.
So, this. A journal, thing. What am I supposed to write here? I really don’t know. Am I supposed to write about my life like it’s a story? Do I narrate? Or am I supposed to write like I’m talking to the journal? I don’t know why Silverclaw asked me to do this, but I’m not about to deny my mentor’s last request. Oh, no, he isn’t dead or anything, he just moved on. Wait, that makes it sound like he’s dead. This is harder than I thought it would be. He’s not dead, he just left. Ok, that’s a little better. He went on some sort of spiritual journey about a week ago, but before he left, he asked me to start keeping a journal. Don’t ask me why, I never understood half the things he did. He just said that every warrior should keep a memory of the day’s events and gave me this empty book. So, here I am.
Eagleheart
P.S. I know, I have the most pathetically cliché name a gryphon can have. If any historians ever read this thing in like, a hundred years or so, could you just pretend my name was something cool? Maybe something like Razor Talon? It probably doesn’t matter though, I don’t think I’ll be writing another entry.
Saturday, Thirteenth of November.
Dear diary,
I have a diary, the end.
Ok, ok, I’ve got to write something more than that, but I don’t know how to keep a proper diary. I didn’t even want a diary in the first place, I just kind of got stuck with it. I guess that’s a good place to start.
It all started this morning. I had just finished my morning rounds, watering all the different plants, when Lily and Daisy came and dragged me to the library. They know how much I try to avoid that place, and the trouble-prone unicorn that lives there(I mean, seriously, How can anypony make parasprites worse?), so why would they do that? Easy, free stuff. Everypony loves free stuff, and Lily and Daisy are no exception. I’m usually a little iffy about stuff like that. Well, it turned out that the librarian, Twilight(the aforementioned trouble-prone unicorn), had been noticing a decline in visitors lately. (Can’t imagine why, I’m sure everypony loves to lounge around in a complete stranger’s living room everytime they want to read a book.) Anyway, Twilight was having a special give away, everypony who signed up for a library card got to pick out a free book. I picked out a beautiful hardbound book with (what else) a rose on the cover. Imagine my surprise when I find out it’s blank. Not a single word on any page. Well, there’s some words printed on the very last page, but I think it’s safe to say that those don’t count. Anyway, I didn’t want to let this beautiful book go to waste, so here I am, writing in a diary like a little filly. (I won’t tell if you don’t) Of course, you can’t tell anypony, you’re a diary. And this is officially getting weird. I’m gonna stop now, bye.
Roseluck
P.S. I’m not going to do this again. I think the rest of this book is going to be filled with notes on plants.
Sunday, November 14th,
So, I’m engaged. Didn’t see that one coming, did you? Neither did I. But, it happened, and here I am, writing that journal entry I said I wouldn’t be writing. I just don’t know what else to do. I can’t exactly talk to anyone about this. Though, I should probably explain why.
I am Eagleheart, son of Lionheart. My father is the chieftain of a sizable aerie in the eastern Riverkill Mountains. Interesting bit of useless linguistics, kill means river, so I live in the river river mountains, go figure. Anywho, there’s another aerie on the western side of the range, according to everything I’ve heard, both aeries have been at war for generations, but the fighting stopped right around the time I was born. Turns out there’s a reason for that. Right around the time I was born, the chieftain of the other aerie had a daughter; I bet you can put two and two together. I am now engaged to one Gilda Greypatch, a gryphon I have never met, or even heard of before today.
Needless to say, I am not happy about this, but the alternative is returning to war. As much as I am trained to be a warrior, my studies have led me to appreciate peace. I have read countless depictions of battles and heard tales from many who have fought, including my mentor, Silverclaw, and I must say I would not wish war on anyone. It seems that, for the sake of the aerie, my fate has been decided. I can only hope this Gilda is easy to get along with.
Who knows? She may even be cute.
Eagleheart
P.S. Am I supposed to sign each entry? I’m really not sure, this journal thing didn’t come with instructions.
P.P.S. The military has been running drills since this morning. Father said that there is going to be a grand demonstration at the wedding, and he wants it to be perfect. That means they will be running drills day and night for the next two weeks. Didn’t I mention? The wedding is two weeks from yesterday. (I’m so glad they gave me such an early warning.)
P.P.P.S. It’s really hard to sleep right now, those military drills are quite noisy
Sunday, fourteenth of November.
Dear Diary,
I hate everything.
That stupid colt! He didn’t even have the nerve to tell me in pony. He just invited me to dinner and left a note at our usual table. It read,
Dear Rose,
Smudge, smudge, smudge. It’s not you, it’s me.
Smudge.
I could barely read the thing, it was all smudged and covered in tomato sauce. I assumed he wrote it while eating, so I asked the restaurant staff if he’d been there. Guess what? He was. He had dinner with another mare. At our table. And he wrote the break-up letter while stuffing his face with pasta. It wasn’t even written in pen or pencil, he stole a yellow crayon from a four-year old colt at a nearby table. I was astounded he had the decency not to write it on a napkin, until I found out he wrote it on the back of the bill, the UNPAID bill.
Anyway, here I am, crying over my poor choice in stallions and pouring my heart out to a diary. I feel sixteen again. Only, when I was sixteen, I wouldn’t have been able to afford to spend fifty-three bits on Istallion food. That’s another thing, he never spent that much on any meal before, that ungrateful little gelding! He’s a pond-scum sucking low-life who with delusions of adequacy, and if that bag of fur ever- You know what, I’m going to stop myself before this gets out of hoof, and just go cry myself to sleep. I am giving up on this whole romance thing once and for all.
Also, happy birthday to me. I didn’t even get a cake.
Rose(not so)luck(y)
P.S. He had better not come around my flowershop on hearts and hooves day, or I will personally kick his flank to the moon.
Tuesday, November 16th,
So, I missed yesterday’s entry. It’s not really that big of a deal, after all, I wasn’t going to keep doing this in the first place, but it’s nice to be able to talk- well, write about my day and what’s happening in my life. I don’t really get a chance to do that. Being the son of a chieftain, my days are filled with studies, duties, and not saying much to a lot of gryphons I don’t know. This journal is kind of a nice change of pace.
Which brings me to the reason I missed yesterday’s entry. I met Gilda. All I can say is wow. I honestly was not expecting her to react the way she did. Of course, I didn’t know what to expect, but trying to slice my legs off the moment we were in private was not something I had even considered. Somehow, she got it into her head that the whole thing was my idea and that maiming me, or provoking me into maiming her, would somehow get her out of it.
She didn’t know how to react when I didn’t fight back. That was something Silverclaw taught me, sometimes inaction can be a powerful course of action. He was crazy like that, but once you got over how strange his advice sounded, most of it worked. But to this day, I cannot figure out what he meant when he said he found love by the crickets in a hot spring. I’m pretty sure he was messing with me.
Anywho, once she saw that I wasn’t fighting back, she decided to try talking. I wish she would have tried that first, because she was surprisingly easy to talk to. Once we got done complaining to each other about our mutual circumstances, she told me about her travels beyond griffin borders. I have never gone beyond the aerie, so it was all fascinating to me. She told me about the friends she made, mistakes that tore them apart, and the hope that she would be able to make it up to them. There was one friend in particular that I could tell she really missed. I do hope they can one day reconcile.
We parted on amicable terms. She and I are not, and most likely will never be lovers, but if this wedding does go through, we can at least live on friendly terms.
I simply do not see why we must be married for there to be peace. I understand that the idea is for us to unite both aeries under our rule, but as the heirs to our respective chieftains, Gilda and I will one day rule our aeries regardless of what happens. If we can come to a peaceful understanding, isn’t that all that’s needed?
It seems I am unable to finish this entry. My father’s aide, Sharptail, has informed me that I am needed in my father’s chamber.
~~Eagleheart~~
Well, that was certainly interesting. My father seems to have misinterpreted my injuries in quite the splendid fashion. He also told me that Gilda’s parents were quite happy that we “got along so well.” Then he told me that they arranged a three day hunting trip for the two of us right in the middle of the duskkill basin forest. I had never heard of it before today, but it is, apparently, the most popular honeymoon location in the gryphon kingdoms.
Eagleheart
P.S. If Gilda kills me this time, I completely understand.
Tuesday, sixteenth of November,
Dear Diary,
I punched Pinkie Pie.
Monday morning, around, oh, early, Pinkie came to see me. She told me that Lily talked to her about me being dumped. (Thank you for your discretion, Lily.) So, why would Pinkie visit somepony who just got dumped? If you don’t know, then you don’t know Pinkie, she wanted to cheer me up. How does Pinkie cheer ponies up? A party, obviously. She invited me to a party being held at sugarcube corner around lunchtime.
Things got bad the moment I arrived. I opened the door to go in just as a certain stallion was making his way out. The first words out of ugly mug were, “Hey, no hard feelings, right?” I would have clobbered him right then and then if Pinkie hadn’t hopped over. I was just about to walk past him and into the party when Pinkie introduced him as her new colt-friend and started snogging him in front of me.
I’m not normally a violent mare; I’ve never been in trouble, I’ve never gotten in fights, even back in school, I had never seen the inside of the principal’s office, but this was just too much. I grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around, and clocked her one right in that poofy, pink, stallion-stealing face of hers. She went down like a bag of sugar. I was just about to deck him too, but before I realized what was happening, my face was pressed up against the floor. The next thing I felt was an electrical shock running through my body.
I woke up in a holding cell. It turns out that Princess Celestia doesn’t appreciate it when national heroes are assaulted in front of her. Pinkie didn’t press charges, but I still had to spend the night in a cell after getting lectured by somepony who could probably just zap me into dust if she wanted. Fortunately, she let me go with three days of community service. Unfortunately, Ponyville doesn’t have any work for me to do, which is quite shocking, really(considering how often the town seems to get totally mangled), so I’m being sent out of town. I find out where I’m headed tomorrow morning at the train station.
Have I mentioned I hate everything?
Roseluck (the criminal)
P.S. I’m pretty sure the changeling two cells over was trying to flirt with me.
Wednesday, November 17th,
So, Gilda is full of surprises. She is the first griffin I’ve ever met that is strictly vegetarian. This being a hunting trip, there is some conflict of interest, but I have promised to limit myself to fish and the occasional small game. She also bears no animosity towards me for our current circumstances, which is good, because she caused the injuries which led us to our current situation. Or, put plainly, it’s her fault.
no it’s not
I apologize for that, Gilda was reading over my shoulder and took the journal when I-
dude, you’re apologizing to a book
And writing a message about it, since I’m right here, is passive-aggressive.
you just did it too
Yes, but I’m doing it to illustrate a poi-
why are you even doing this?
Writing?
yes
My mentor asked me to keep a journal, at first, I was doing it to comply with his wishes. It’s only been a few days, but I’m finding it to be comforting.
really? tell me you did not just say that
I didn’t, I wrote it.
you know what I meant
Yes, I do. I mean it though, haven’t you ever felt frustrated with something, but didn’t have anyone to talk to? Being next in line to an aerie means you can’t show your feelings or weaknesses to others, this gives me a way to talk to someone without actually talking to someone.
that shouldn't make sense, but it kind of does
Want to give it a try?
not really
You sure?
yes
Just a little try?
ok, fine
Thank you.
shut up
Yo, this is Gilda, I’m gonna take this guy’s word on this and see what all the hype is about. I don’t see how writing in a book is supposed to make me feel any better about what’s going on, but hey, it can’t make me feel any worse. I’m heiress to a large aerie in the western riverkill mountains. I am also about to get married. I never wanted either of those things. All I want is to be able to live my life as I see fit, to fly free, to follow my own path, but it seems that my path has always been laid out by others. all my travels, my adventures beyond the griffin borders, were carefully planned and financed. I got away with so much because I had diplomatic immunity, and I never even knew it. I was a spoiled brat, rebelling against fate, only to find out that the rebellion was an illusion and that fate had a tighter grip on me than I could ever shake off. I don’t care for politics, and after this, who can blame me? But it seems I may have to get used to the way things are. I can at least be glad that the guy I’m stuck marrying isn’t a complete jerk. The jury’s still out on me though. one day I’m going to make it back to ponyville and apologize, but until then, I miss everyone. Not just Dash, but all the flight school instructors, all the other students, all the ponies, and zebras, and minotaurs, and everything else I saw and met out there in the world. Enjoy your freedom, you’re lucky to have it
Gilda Greypatch
Hey. I may have to get one of these for myself, but if you ever share what I wrote, I will make your married life a living Tartarus.
What did I say, full of surprises.
Eagleheart
P.S. I’m one hundred percent sure that means she would kill me.
Wednesday, Seventeenth of November,
Dear Diary,
I feel like dirt.
I am sweaty and filthy from twelve hours of replanting Appleoosan Apple trees. I also had to put up with a happy-go-lucky stallion that shouted everything he said, he was in charge of everything. But it’s over now,the trees are moved and there’s no further need for “volunteers.” Tomorrow morning, I take the train to the next place in need of menial labor.
Now for the reason I feel like dirt. Pinkie came to see me at the train station. She didn’t say anything, she just handed me an envelope before I got on the train. I tried to throw it away, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I just tossed it in my bag. I opened it just a few moments ago, she apologized. She wrote a letter of apology, to me. On top of that, she didn’t know, she didn’t know who he was, why he was there, or anything like that. She just wanted to try gelato, and they started talking while she was waiting for her order. She apologized even though she did nothing wrong.
There was something else in the envelope as well, folded up in the letter, a gift card to that very same Istallion restaurant for the amount of fifty-three bits. I don’t know how, but when I get back to Ponyville, I have to find a way to make it up to her.
Roseluck
P.S. One of these days, I should look into changing my name, the word luck has no business being associated with me. How does “Rose” sound?
Author's Note
This fic is partially inspired by the song Eagleheart by Stratovarius. I'm pretty sure they wrote it as a joke, because it contains every cliche power metal lyric possible. But it's still a good song, in my opinion.
Friday, November 19th,
So, there was a rockslide yesterday. Gilda and I were not harmed, but there was a griffin who was not so lucky. His name was Shrillshriek, he was a few years older than me, and one of our aerie’s best soldiers. We brought his body back as soon as we found it. According to my father, Shrillshriek was supposed to be guarding us from those who oppose the joining of the aeries. I will have to look into this. If there are those who wish to bring us to war, I will stop them.
Eagleheart
P.S. Gilda has returned to her aerie. My hope is that she will be safer there, but I cannot be sure. It is likely that opposition comes from within both aeries.
Friday, Nineteenth of November,
Dear Diary,
I’m home.
You never really appreciate little things like burnt coffee and breakfast at Sugarcube corner until you have to go without them for a while. Speaking of Sugarcube corner, I found a way to apologize to Pinkie. After helping to drag the train back to Ponyville(don’t ask), I was in serious need of a spa trip. It turns out, Aloe and Lotus are big fans of Istallion food and they talk about it all the time. They were so happy that somepony actually paid attention during their spa visits that they gave me a card good for a month’s worth of visits for me and a friend. I guess they didn’t realize that I had never been a customer before and was just trying to pawn off that gift card(I am never going back to that restaurant).
Anyway, I took Pinkie to the spa for the first free visit. To quote a book I read in the spa’s waiting room, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Also, that mare is CRAZY! She lit the mud pit on fire! Sure, she put it out, but still, lighting stuff on fire so you aren’t outdone by a friend isn’t something I call sane. But enough about that. I, for one, would much rather forget it ever happened(though I doubt I will ever be able to).
On the matter of me punching her, I finally found out why she was so understanding. Apparently, a certain stallion disappeared recently. But I then made the mistake of saying, “welcome to the club.” Guess what happened next?
Rose(my)luck(seems to be improving)
P.S. CPLMC(Captain Pinkie’s Lonely Mares Club) has its first meeting on Tuesday.
Saturday, November 20th,
So, I think I need a new way to start my journal entries. This one is starting to lose its novelty. How about, “dear journal?”
I think I’ll just start writing from now on.
Anyway, my investigation has turned up nothing so far. All of the older soldiers I have talked to were supportive of the wedding and the peace it would bring. The younger soldiers were interested in… other aspects of my relationship with Gilda, not that there are any, but it seems that rumors have spread to the contrary.
Speaking of which, Gilda and I are to exchange ceremonial gifts on Tuesday, so I will be spending a good deal of tomorrow shopping. I have no idea what to get her, so I contacted her mother via personal courier. I can only hope he returns before I waste too much time in the shops.
Eagleheart
P.S. I wonder if it would be inappropriate to include a receipt with my gift.
P.P.S. Do I really need to sign my name every time I finish an entry?
Saturday, Twentieth of December,
Dear Diary,
I did not have a good day.
For starters, I opened my refrigerator for the first time in close to a week. I don’t know how, but it got unplugged while I was out of town. So, I had to clean up the fridge and the vomit I left on the floor. After that, I had to replace the food that went bad( I do not see how that cherry salesman stays in business). But worse than all that, Pinkie insisted that I accompany her to Lamberson to find a sheep named Billie Shears. She was quite insistent that this had to happen before Tuesday.
Roseluck
P.S. YES! Daisy and Lily just stopped by, I was wondering why they would come by my place so late, but Fluttershy’s bumping her annual everfree winter plant survey up by two weeks. We leave Wednesday! I’ll finally get to see the Climbing Rock Rose in bloom! The survey is usually more than a week too late for that. Maybe I’ll even get to collect some seeds! Yes!
Sunday, November 21st,
So, the courier returned this morning with a message from Gilda’s mother. Sadly, I do not know where to find “Wonderbolt’s Tickets.” I did manage to find something else though, something I’m sure she’ll like.
Eagleheart
P.S. I just had an interesting encounter with one of the new recruits. He attempted to sneak into my chambers(emphasis on attempted). He was not armed, though that means little to a griffin. He was carrying a piece of paper with a time and location written on it. He asked me to meet him there, but wouldn’t say way, even though I was holding a spear to the back of his neck. He only said that I would do it if I truly cared about peace, or Gilda. It seems I have a meeting tomorrow; I will be cautious.
Sunday, Twenty-first of November,
Dear Diary,
I am off the hook.
Where did that expression come from anyway? I don’t know. It’s too early in the morning to think about things like that.
So, Pinkie talked to her friends about her trip, and it turns out that Applejack knows a goat named Billie Shears. He likes to travel, so she said it wouldn’t take much to convince him to drop by Ponyville. That was enough to appease Pinkie, so I am free to spend my Sunday the way I normally do.
Well, mostly. Sunday used to be date night. I’ll have to find something else to do.
Roseluck
P.S. Speaking of Applejack, I haven’t seen her brother around lately.
P.P.S. Ice Cream doesn’t last as long as it used to.
P.P.P.S. Carrot Top wasn’t home.
P.P.P.P.S. Everypony’s busy, my plants are all taken care of, and I’m already packed for the plant survey. It’s not even dinner time, but I can’t think of anything else I need to do. Maybe I’ll go get some more Ice Cream.
P.P.P.P.P.S. The Ice Cream’s gone again.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Baking chocolate doesn’t taste very good on its own, but if you melt it, mix in some sugar, and spread it over everything, it’s not too bad.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Why? Why did he leave? Was it something I did? Something I said? He ran out on Pinkie, so I know he’s just a jerk, but I can’t help feeling that it’s all my fault. Why did I pick somepony like him in the first place?
I know why.
I run a flower shop. Every day, I see ponies coming in to buy gifts for those they care about. I wanted that. Just once, I wanted a little bit of what I saw every day, but here I am, alone in bed like I’ll probably be forever.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Why won’t anypony buy flowers for me?
