Ryezing: Tome of Dreams

by ThatOneGuy0531

Chapter 2

Is there something much more valuable that I could be doing with my time than running this little errand? The short and more convincing answer is yes, there is. Though, If I were to describe what I would rather be doing it would no doubt sound trivial to anyone who does not appreciate the importance of the small moments we take for granted in our lives. Yes, every moment you experience should be maximized in some way, shape or form. After all, time is a precious and finite resource that for the most part is completely non-refundable. Well, at least my time is anyways. Ah, what I wouldn’t do to be able to perform any assortment of shenanigans the second they pop into my head without any regard for the consequences; fruitful or ultimately meaningless. I’ve been told by strangers that this is what I do. Though the ponies who believe that have definitely missed the point of my carefully constructed abstract argument. Whatever, they don’t need to understand so long as I do.

Here I go digressing again, yammering and complaining to those that will listen, usually just myself, but who else do I have to complain to out on this cold and lonely road. Maybe If I had complained earlier when the wise Council of Canterlot gave me this assignment there might have been a chance for me to opt-out. Perhaps I could have been home tending my garden. I have just added some young Heathers and Germaniums to my collection. I hope my brother remembers to water them while I’m away; If only so I can come home and catch him in the act and revel at the juxtaposition of a mighty soldier bending to the will of some dainty little thing.

This place is as good as any to park a wagon. The eohunds should be safe here and there’s plenty of food around for them. They’ll eat anything. I’ll cover the wagon for now. That should do it.

Albé Lindorm Gebearded, The Lindworm’s White Beard. The name of a mountain peak around these parts. I’ve never seen it myself but if these drawings are accurate then the summit looks like it leans over to one side of the mountain; so much so it resembles a long serpent is trying to navigate its way through the surrounding peaks. At what would be its chin is a long stretch of howlite extending toward the valley floor. It’s almost as long as the mountain itself and absolutely wide enough to fit the Royal Throne Room inside. The serpent keeps vigilance over a river as if waiting for some unsuspecting prey to take a drink. Overdramatic for sure, but detailed enough to forge a good story to tell fillies and foals to keep them from straying too far into the forest. Around here there are only a few towns and even fewer individuals willing to scour the mountains and valleys for missing ponies. Not that one could even tell where the valley ends and the mountains begin with all these trees suffocating the few paths and roads that do exist. If I had to describe this region in one word, I think it would be oppressing. And yet there are some crazy ponies that, for some reason only Celestia can know, have decided to call this trying place home.

One of these homely little respites is called Hayden, and it is where I have decided, by circumstance, of course, to rest for the evening. A large fire pit exists in the middle of town, likely to keep ponies somewhat warm as they return to their frigid homes and barracks where the next thing they’ll do is warm up yet again with a couple of hard ciders. I’ll admit I could go for one myself. The local tavern and inn sits directly in front of the fire pit. It probably serves as a makeshift town hall on occasion since there are no official court buildings this far out of demarcated Canterlot territory. The Winky Mare is its name; a name that lends itself to certain expectations. So you can imagine my disappointment when the only thing I found inside were a few sternly stallions well passed their cider limit and a gruff older colt staring at me from behind the bar with a more unfriendly face than not. Eh, so long as I get my Ale.

“I don’t suppose you have any strong, blueberry ferments?”

“Nope.”

“Some Guardsman’s Respite?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Dragon Spit?”

“No.”

I knew I would be pushing my luck around here trying to get something of quality, I just really hoped I was wrong.

“Well, what do you have then?”

“Cider.”

“I don’t suppose it’s from those Apples down in Ponyville, is it?”

“Dunno.” I’ll take my chances.

“I’ll have a pint of that then, good sir!” I know I said that a little louder than I probably should have but I was hoping to stir up some kind of emotion on his face even if it was just confusion.

“Hey shut up!” Well, I got someone’s attention. “We’re tryin’ to drink ‘ere!” Time for a little fun.

“I refuse to believe you’re sober enough to even know what you think you know!”

“What!?”

“You do speak the tongue you think your speaking, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You! Are you this poor inebriated fellow’s friend?”.

“Who me?” Yes you, the one I’m pointing to. They are definitely long gone.

“Have you been able to understand anything your friend has been saying all evening?”

“Yeah I have, whattya take me for, eh?”

“Then you heard him say ‘Je suis une petite jolie pouliche’?”

“What?”

“‘Je suis une petite pouliche!’ did you not hear him or did you not understand him!?”

“He didn’t sa-”

“Je s-suis ooon petite poulicheeeee...heh heh”

“W-what?” You see the ploy was very simple. Say something weird enough, yet interesting enough, for the intoxicated fool to take notice and mimic.

“Je sweeze ooon petite pooleech hah, hah!” Now to fuel the fires of confusion.

“See! He’s been like this all evening, the poor stallion must be going mad!”

“Hahahahahahahaha!”

“When did this all start? How long has he been like this!? Answer me his life is at stake!”

“I-I don’t kno-”

“But you said you’ve been with him all evening! How can you not know!?”

“I-I-I dont know...Birch can you hear me!?”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAH POOOOOLICHEEEEEEEEE! HAHAAHAHA!” Geez, even I didn’t think it was that funny.

“He must be bewitched!”

“B-bewitched!?”

“Yes, bewitchment! How else can we not understand him? Why, there must be some conniving enchantress after your friends very soul!”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Quickly, take him, hide him! And I will-” I think I have some dust in my pocket or something “-cast a blessing with my handy fairy dust!”

“Please! Save him! He’s all I got!”

“Tappa Tee, Tappa Toor!” It’s much more convincing when you wave your hands about; like trying to swim but standing upright. “Your friend will find cure! Now quickly before the witch closes in on her prey!”

“Thank you!” Sweet Celestia he’s bawling. “Thank you! Come on Birch! I’m taking you home.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

There must be superstitious folk in this town because It usually takes a little more effort to reduce a drunkard to tears. What was I doing again? Oh right, my Cider.
Was the barkeep just standing there behind the bar the whole time? I doubt it would have taken him too long to get my Cider. He didn’t even try to intervene.

“Like what you saw there, then?”

“Eh.”

“Oh come on!” There has to be something, anything that can get a rouse out of you! Go on, spill it!”

“Eh.”

“There isn’t anything that makes you laugh, chuckle, smirk? Maybe something that pushes a little air out of your nose. Maybe wiggles the corners of your mouth a bit.”

“Mares.”

“I’ll drink to that!” I like this guy. Doesn’t say anything that doesn’t need to be said. If I weren’t on duty I’d ask him to show me what there is to do around these parts. Ah, what I would give to have the time. But there’s work to be done and unfortunately, I’m the only one they sent.

“Excuse me, but do you kno-”

“Hah.” He said.