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- A story based on an idea from an AIE thread. Anon ends up in ancient equestria and becomes the druid/guardian of the ancient and much smaller Everfree.
- Chapter 1
- Never thought I'd die in a plane crash. Kind of disappointed really, everyone is just screaming and that Arab isn't even yelling about snackbars. Oh well. I'm in my late twenties and it was only going to go downhill after 30.
- BRACE BRACE BRACE
- Oh yeah, like I'm going to die with my head between my legs. Get fucked pilot, you're the one crashing the plane not me.
- Useless shower of basta------------
- As awareness crept over me once more my first thought was pain. It occurred to me that perhaps I had survived the crash but that thought died quickly with the realisation that I didn't feel wet. Finally I climbed to my feet and opened my eyes and the sight struck me like a blow. This was not a life raft floating in the Atlantic or an uncharted island. As far as I could see were green meadows, rolling hills, forests and mountains climbing high in the distance. My mind spun and whirled, thoughts tumbling like shattered glass. Was this the afterlife? It seemed unlikely as idyllic as the landscape was. As I looked around I saw I was alone in a strange land, I could feel fear gathering in the back of my mind, the rushing onset of the fight or flight response, a sign of survival instincts kicking in. At the core of my being I knew I was not dead but profoundly alive and mortal, and if I wished to remain that way I could not stand around gawking any longer, questions about where I was would have to wait.
- Taking stock of my surroundings I try to identify the best sources of food and shelter, I'm no survivalist but I know enough to get by or so I hope. One forest in the distance looks particularly likely, it's not as close as some of the others, probably two days journey, less if I keep going into the night. It's not as big as some of the other forests I can see and darker looking but it's at the foot of the nearest mountain and mountains mean mountain streams, at least in my mind.
- It took 2 and half days to reach the forest, fortunately it doesn't get too cold at night in this place. I'd been reduced to sucking the morning dew off the grass for moisture and eating some of the less unappealing weeds but survivors can't be choosers. I am now quite sure I'm not dead and that this place is not on earth, it would seem the Bermuda triangle is indeed a portal to another dimension, it's also nowhere near Bermuda and only works when I fall into it. I think I'll stay on the edge of the forest tonight, there's fruiting trees nearby and as luck would have it the mountain stream I was hoping to find. It seems survival is easier than I was told.
- I have decided to stay here several days at least. I need to stockpile supplies and construct some sort of backpack if I am to search for signs of sentient life. Not to mention gather my strength for a potentially long journey. It would be a strange fate to be alone in world with nothing but plants and beasts. There's something about this forest though. The trees aren't like the ones I passed on my journey here, they're larger and darker, there's something unsettling about them. No unsettling is not the right word, it's more an odd feeling that there's more to them than simply a tree.
- I'm finally ready to begin my expedition, I've constructed a crude backpack from fallen twigs, branches and vines, it's the most uncomfortable thing I've ever worn but it will serve, filled to the brim with nuts and fruits. I've been unable to make any kind of water canteen so it seems I will be drinking dew again unless I happen upon a stream. When not preparing, I've found myself studying the trees, I'm drawn to them. Not in any sinister way, it's more there's something about them, some mystery and like any good mystery it demands solving. I intend to return if I don't find anything so there's no rush to solve it.
- It seems I have discovered where I am, though it is not a place a I expected to be. After four days of travel and unpleasant dew sucking, I came a across a small village populated by brightly coloured miniature horses. I am in Equestria of all places, though I never really watched the show. It would be more precise to say my young nieces watched the show while I drank their fathers beer as part of my payment for babysitting. I remained hidden and didn't approach the village for two reasons, one I doubt they speak English and two the village did not look right. The houses looked like dark age hovels, the few tools I saw scattered around the village were much cruder than they should have been and their clothing strongly resembled that of medieval peasants, I recall nothing of that from the dozen or so episodes I saw with my nieces. I suspect I have landed in what passes for equestria's dark ages, which would make whatever knowledge of the show I might have used to my advantage utterly useless. I have returned to the forest to contemplate my next move, for now I will live a hidden life in this forest. I have no idea how an encounter with the inhabitants of dark age equestria would pan out, it's best I take time to prepare before risking a potentially lethal encounter.
- It's been a productive six months. I've constructed a basic home out of fallen wood in a glade where the trees grow close together, very close, rather fortunate for me as it meant I could use them to support the hut. I have stored supplies and I'm working on hollowing out a large boulder to use as a sort of water barrel, slow going on that front I have no tools beyond a couple of sharp rocks. Clothing is going to be an issue, I managed to weave a sort of crude cloak out of moss, leaves and vines but that's the limit of my abilities at this point. I've learned a little more about the trees and why I feel something around them. For one I only experience this unsettled feeling around certain trees, mainly the largest and most ancient looking. It almost feels like I'm being observed, I'm not sure if I should be worried or not, some of those ancient trees are supporting columns for my hut. The other odd thing is that sometimes their leaves rustle as if the wind is blowing, even when it isn't. Aside from relearning skills that would come naturally to a caveman and studying trees, I've begun planting whatever seeds I can find. I still plan to make contact with the ponies but I could be living here for a very long time, regardless of the outcome of first contact, so I think it best to be prepared for the future.
- Autumn is here, it's helped me get my bearings on the passing of time. Apparently I arrived at the end of winter or in early spring. A cellar has been dug in my hut to store food for the winter, well I say cellar it's a hole in the ground I've lined with sticks and moss and covered with a crude trapdoor. But it holds enough food to last me a few months on a tight belt, I still find myself annoyed by my forced vegetarianism. The few squirrels and birds in the forest are too quick for me to catch and I've no knowledge of trap making. That being said I've no shortage of food, though the rate of growth of the things I planted in the last few months is disconcerting, it's as if they're packing a years growth into each month. I've also improved my clothes making skills, I have a new moss-leaf robe, deliberately oversized as part of my plan to go to the pony village. I remember that episode with the zebra so I plan to disguise myself as a forest spirit, I'm working on the premise that a forest spirit will seem less out of the ordinary than the completely unknown creature that is a human, even if forest spirits aren't a thing here.
- My preparations are complete, I've got my robe and a pack loaded with fruits, nuts and some crude craftings. They look like dreamcatchers built by a retard but ponies won't know that. I'm still hampered by my inability to construct a water canteen so my water supplies will be some of the juicier kinds of fruit and dew sucking, with any luck I'll be able to trade with the ponies for one. A large flat stone slab will serve as a table for my wares, ordinarily I'd consider dragging a rock for four days idiotic but it doesn't feel as heavy as it should, it doesn't feel heavy at all, I think gravity must be lower here or perhaps things just aren't as dense and heavy.
- The trees are rustling as I set out, my suspicions might me true.
- The pony village is in sight. Time for some final preparations. Digging up a patch of grass I smear the soil on my face, all part of the forest spirit disguise, I even have some gloves I made from tree bark glued together with sap, they are as uncomfortable as hell. It's dawn, I think I'll wait till mid morning before approaching, fortunately my moss-leaf robe makes excellent camouflage so there's no risk of early discovery. I never noticed the number of fields around the village, most of them must be farmers.
- They haven't noticed me approach, I'm practically in the villa- Ah there we go, bolting inside in a rather cartoonish way, though not all of them. I make my way to the market ignoring the eyes peeping from behind cover, there's a space on some dry ground next to one of the stalls, I'll set up there. Strange, I don't see any of the winged or horned ponies. Taking a seat behind my slab of fruits, nuts and shoddy woodland crafts, nothing to do now but wait. The traders cowering behind the stalls are the first to emerge, the other villagers take a bit longer. They're looking nervously at each other and whispering in what I can only assume is Ye Olde Equestrian, I don't even move, I'm doing my best tree-spirit impression. It took nearly an hour but all the ponies have finally returned to their business of the day, none of them have approached me yet, they throw nervous looks in my direction every so often.
- It's midday and one of them is finally approaching me, hmmm he looks ready to bolt any second. As he gets near I point at him with a bark covered finger, he freezes like he just got struck by lightning, I swear I heard some gasps. I wave my hand over my stone slab of forest goods, perhaps a bit too theatrically, but he seems to get the message. What follows is what can only be expected of two men, or a man and a pony in this case, haggling without speaking each others language, a great deal of pointing and gesturing. He looked terrified the entire time but I appear to have traded some dreamcatchers for what appears to be apples. Two other ponies approach me before evening comes. As I walked out of the village I heard certain words being repeated, I can only assume it's either equestrian for tree spirit or weird ape wearing moss. Most of them still stay well clear of me and no others approach. Not the most productive trip and I doubt I'll be returning till winter ends. If this is truly the dark ages of equestrian history, then they'll have little trade with again until spring needing most of their supplies for the winter months.
- The old trees rustle loudly at my return to the forest. As expected.
- Spring has come again, winter wasn't too bad, cold but not hard. My supplies lasted and despite my bed being made of moss and twigs, it was surprisingly warm. I didn't dare light any fires, not if what I suspect about the dozen or so ancient looking trees near my home is true. I think I'll make another trip to the pony village next month.
- The ponies were less afraid of me this time though still wary, it went much the same as last time but with marginally less hiding on their part. But there was something different, something in the atmosphere. I know nothing of pony body language but even I could tell there was tension in the air that wasn't due to my presence. Whatever it is it's not my business.
- Digging through the snow at the base of the fruit tree I find myself muttering swear words endlessly. What in the frozen pits of hell is going on, snowstorms, endless fucking snowstorms. I'm not sure which emotion is stronger in me, shock at this unexpected event or fury that I'm unprepared for it. I should have expected unnatural weirdness in a land of magic. Three days ago a seemingly endless snowstorm began, I definitely don't remember Mr Snow being in my little pony. The storm is without a doubt unnatural, as if this much snow wasn't a big enough clue, the howling I hear in the storms isn't just the wind. The only upside is that it has finally proved that those ancient trees near my hut are alive. They've been rustling back and forth at each other since the snows began, as if they're having a conversation or debate, one starts rustling then stops and another one begins their own rustling speech. Clearly they're as surprised by the snow as I am. I've discovered the equestrian equivalent of ents, now I'm going to pay for that discovery by freezing to death. I have some supplies stockpiled but they aren't much. Dread grips me at the thought, these storms better end soon or I won't see next spring.
- The snows passed after a week, fortunate but I have other concerns. I decided to visit the pony village to see if I could glean some explanation for the snows, instead I found the village abandoned. And I don't think they'll be returning, they've taken everything transportable with them. It may be the last I see of ponies for a very long time. Until then the trees have been the object of my focus, at least in my spare time. I still walk the forest, gathering, seeding, exploring but these trees. I sit for hours observing them, occasionally I hum tunes or sing songs at them to see if they'll respond. Sometimes they do, rustling back at me. I cannot begin to imagine how a tree might think or what thoughts occupy their minds. There's 19 sentient trees, 7 around my hut and the rest within sight of it. I like to think they enjoy my presence though that may be wishful thinking on my part. At the very least I won't be lonely here, even if I can't understand or communicate with them.
- 10 years have passed since I arrived here, maybe. It's hard to tell, I live by the seasons of the forest, tending the fruiting trees in spring, gathering in summer, stockpiling in autumn, sheltering in winter. At the very least I'm in my later thirties now, probably not long from turning 40. The forest has greatly increased in size, it must be four times as big now, a long way from the place where I could walk from one end to the other in an hour. I'm growing in my understanding of the ents, as I've taken to calling them, I can get vague impressions of emotions from them, though at first I thought it merely the delusions of lonely mind losing its sanity. At this rate by the time I'm an old man I may be able to have a conversation with them.
- The ponies never returned to the village, disappointing. I rather enjoyed pretending to be a nature spirit, even if I only got to do it three times. Apparently I have picked a rather wild and desolate region to settle in. For several years it seemed I would never see them again. Until I decided to climb the mountain the forest sits at the foot of. Looking out from however high up I was, I saw shapes in the distance next to a ravine. It looked like a half finished castle and there were smaller shapes around it. I can only assume that it wasn't just that particular group of ponies who abandoned their village, several villages worth at least must have banded together and begun constructing a town. A rather extreme reaction to a freak snowstorm, perhaps there was more to that storm than I'm aware of. How could I know, I wasn't exactly part of their society after all. I won't be visiting, it must be at least two weeks journey away, farther than I'm willing to travel to trade for items that I don't need or to pretend to be a forest spirit. Although in a strange way I am a forest spirit now, I'm not pretending anymore, I may not be magical but I live alone in a forest, I subsist on what nature provides and nothing more, I talk to trees and they talk back. It's been an amusing yet oddly comforting thought.
- The forest is no longer safe. It's grown large enough that predatory creatures have begun to take shelter in it. Bears, wolf like creatures made from dead wood, strange chimeras and worse things. There are few of them right now but more will come as the forest continues to grow. The ents are agitated, they don't like the howls at night, the blood on the soil, the fear of the prey creatures. I've made spears, I walk the forest with stealth and wariness and never unarmed. Blending into the undergrowth in my moss-leaf robe, spears at the ready. The predators withdraw when they catch my scent or see me moving between the trees, an animals fear of the unknown.
- A pony came to the woods today, the ents warned me something was coming, I still cannot understand their speech but I am much better at reading their intent. The pony was some kind of scout or explorer judging by the gear he carried I followed him through the woods, he seemed nervous and rightly so, this forest is not like others. He did not see me, I have spent years stalking wary predators unseen, a pony had no chance though I admit it was tiring, I'm beginning to feel my age, I must be nearly fifty. I followed him out of curiosity, I've not seen a pony in over 25 years now, but also to protect him, I've begun to see myself as the guardian of the forest. He did not stay long, or explore much of the forest, the howling of the wood wolves spooked him into turning back. I do not blame him, they are vicious creatures and difficult to keep down.
- The forest grows dark and dangerous, the ents are clearly troubled by it. And so am I. I'm approaching 60 and it's all I can do to keep the grove around my hut free of the dangers that have begun to infest the rest of the forest, not just predators now but other things as well, an unwholesome swamp has formed near the western end and plants that are clearly poisonous have begun to sprout. I dread to think what this place might look like a century after my death, it had all seemed so idyllic once. I feel my age keenly now, this is a harsh life for an old man, especially when that old man gets into fights with chimera's while foraging. I have another 5 or 10 years left in me at most, it's been a good life, my only fear is what will happen to the forest after I'm gone.
- Trees have grown and I've grown older. I can feel it in my bones I'll be gone soon. It's an odd thing to know you're at the end of your life, maybe I'm being fatalistic or maybe my time in the forest has given a clearer understanding of things often missed. I've built a throne of branches in front of my hut, a rather garish grandiose thing but that is necessary for its purpose, in a way it's my grave. I hope to die sitting on it, so when some explorer stumbles upon it they will know of me, a legend to mark my life that was hidden from the world in the shadows of trees. The Legend of the Forest Lord, dead upon nature's throne. What stories might spring from it, they'll all be lies but I wouldn't be happy if I didn't leave some legacy to this world. I have no doubts the ents will keep my body from being eaten by the beasts. I'll miss those trees even if a word never passed between us. Hmmm the afternoon is nearly gone, a quick nap on my throne and then dinner I think, heh, such an old man thing to do.
- As the old man sleeps on his throne of bark and branch an ethereal breeze blows through the glade, rustling the leaves of ancient trees.
- No
- No death
- The guardian must not die
- The trees seem to close in, branches blocking out the sun and drowning the glade in shadow and twilight. Roots spear up from the ground around the old man, slowly snaking towards him and gently covering him like a child laying a blanket on their sleeping grandfather to keep the chill away. Soon the old man is lost from sight, hidden beneath the roots.
- No death
- The trees pull back, light returns to the glade and as the first shaft of sunlight spears down to the earth. A green shoot sprouts from the ground.
- Chapter 2
- 2000_years_later_spongebob_timecard.jpg
- "Ugh, there is mud all over my hooves. Why did we have to come to this awful place?"
- "Because y'all generously agreed to help Zecora with her potion making Rarity."
- "Oh yes, of course."
- "And besides we owe her for that there blue flower incident."
- "Please Applejack, I thought we agreed to never mention that again."
- Growling sounds from the undergrowth
- "What was that?"
- A timberwolf emerges from the undergrowth
- "Applejack. Timberwolf!"
- "We can handle one timberwolf rarity."
- Ten more timberwolves emerge from the shadows of the forest
- "I don't think we can handle eleven applejack"
- "I think yer right"
- "What do we do?"
- "RUN!"
- Racing through the forest, the timberwolves in hot pursuit, applejack and rarity manage to pull ahead, the particularly dense undergrowth slowing down the bulkier wolves.
- "Rarity, I think we lost them."
- "I don't think they're the only ones darling, where are we?"
- "I don't know, I've never been this deep in the Everfree and I ain't never seen trees like these. They're bigger than Twilight's library."
- "Is that a throne?"
- "Wha?"
- "It's magnificent, so regal yet wild. You know I have a feeling woodland styling is going to be in next season."
- "Rarity I don't think y'all should go near that thing."
- "Nonsense darling, it's just a throne."
- "I'd still prefer you didn't, something ain't right here, sure as my cutie mark is apples."
- "Oh very well, but I don't see the harm in it."
- "Thank you Rar--"
- Growling breaks out in the glade as the timberwolves emerge from the undergrowth in all directions around the ponies
- "We're trapped."
- "What are we going do?"
- The ancient trees begin swaying and rustling their leaves violently. It's like a storm is blowing through the glade but not even a breeze stirs the air. The timberwolves crouch down, whimpering and darting nervous glances around the glade.
- "What the hay is going on?"
- An almighty crack and a yelp sounds through the glade at the same time. All eyes, timberwolf and pony, turn to the source of the noise.
- Surrounded by the remnants of shattered timberwolf stands a strange creature. Towering over everything present, its legs resemble the trunks of trees, covered in rough bark. Its hands end in long twig like fingers like grasping branches. The rest is of the creature is hidden by a long hooded robe of moss and leaves, only the glow of green eyes can be seen peering out of the shadows of its hood. The creature takes a single stride and kicks another timberwolf, shattering it on impact and scattering twigs across the glade. The rest of the pack flee yelping into the woods.
- The ponies eyes wide with fear flee screaming as well. But the creature takes a few strides and grabs the ponies, one in each hand. It examines one for several moments, then the other. Too frighten to struggle under that baleful green gaze.
- "Little ponies buraruum."
- "The tree is talking, applejack the tree is talking."
- "Ah can see that."
- "TREE! I am no tree! I am an Ent."
- The Ent begins striding through the forest, taking its captives with it.
- "Applejack do something."
- "Ah don't know, ah, well. What's an Ent?"
- "I am a guardian. The Guardian you might say. But this is my realm and I will be asking the questions. Why did you come here, little pony?"
- "We were gathering herbs for a friend and then we got lost and chased by them there timberwolves."
- A discordant rumble emanates from the ent at the mention of timberwolves.
- "I will leave you at the western border of the forest, you can find your way home from there."
- "Apologies for calling you a tree, that was most impolite of me Mr, er do you have a name?"
- The Ent makes a noise.
- "I'm sorry but I don't think I can pronounce that, the only part I understood was Anon"
- "Then that will do, little pony."
- The Ent strides quicken their pace, as it carries the ponies through the forest in silence. Eventually reaching the edge, Ponyville can be seen not far away. Setting the ponies on the ground Anon looks into the distance, old, vague memories stirring of another village long ago but nothing clear.
- "Mr Anon, would you like to come to Ponyville with us. It's only right that we thank you properly for saving us."
- "Ain't it a bit late at night for thank you parties sugarcube? It's nearly midnight."
- "Of course darling but perhaps he'd be willing to stay the night."
- Anon looked back at the forest, leaving it felt like abandoning his duty. But despite his best efforts it had grown dark and wild anyway. And it wasn't going to get any wilder if he left for a time. Though there was a tingle of excitement in his bark at seeing the outside world again. It must have been a thousand years since he last left.
- "Very well, I will stay the night."
- "Y'all can stay with me tonight Anon."
- A short walk later for an ent and longer one for Applejack they reach Apple Acres. Something is moving on the front porch of her home.
- "Applejack? Is that you? You're late missy. And what's that you got with you, you ain't bringing no more trees in the house. That Bloomberg thing weren't right"
- At the mention of tree a deep rumble emanates from Anon like someone just hit a broken organ with a hammer, causing Applejack to glance back nervously.
- "It ain't no tree Granny, this here's Anon, he's an Ent and he done saved my life."
- "An Ent? I ain't never heard of such a thing before. But if he saved yer life then he's welcome here. Come closer deary so I can get a good look at ya."
- Anon steps forward into the light of porch. Glowing green eyes peer down at the old pony.
- "Hello old little pony, you can call me Anon."
- "Well butter my biscuits, you're a big one. I'd invite you in fer supper but it's a bit late fer that and I don't think y'all'd fit inside."
- "I suppose we could set you up in the barn. Then tomorrow we'll give your proper savin our lives thank you. And ah don't doubt Twilight will want to meet y'all"
- "Outside will be fine Applejack. I sleep standing up and will be more comfortable among the trees than in whatever this barn is."
- Anon strides back into the orchard. Granny Smith's voice can be heard muttering about what kind of crazy pony don't know what a barn is. Anon's mind is on other matters, memories of visiting a pony village before. Long ago. Vague images of frightened ponies and gifts of fruit. He was different then, something else. Something that enjoyed playing a joke on the ponies. A deep rumbling laugh escapes the shadows of his hood. That felt good, it had been a long time since he'd laughed. Anon wondered if he could recall the joke, then he could play it again.
- After short time of striding around the orchard in the dark Anon finally stops. He slowly turns around, scanning the orchard.
- "Why in the name of all that grows are these trees so small. This won't do at all."
- The Ent glowers down at the nearest tree. Even the tallest only come up to his shoulder. With a rumble of frustration Anon takes off his robe and drapes it over the nearest tree. Root-like toes drive themselves into the earth and long arms reach towards the sky, the green glow of Anon's eyes intensifies as he begins a rumbling chant.
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