A Watcher's Tale
The Story of Espionage		 dv_sim@yahoo.com
Disclaimer

Espionage staggered wearily into the secret clearing between the Crysalis and the Dark Forest. She was bone weary- bone tired. The sight of the roughly hewn log Watcher Cabin, unchanged for centuries- save for the souls that passed through- was like seeing home after two weeks. She was running low on supplies- of course, but she missed the hot meals and a bed to sleep on- even one as hard as the wood bunks in the cabin.
Entering in, she hung her cloak on the hook, and noted that it wasn't quite as dusty as usual- someone else must have been in her recently. Who? She recalled the list of watcher she had seen recently... Sarane, who only stopped by once every couple of months to rest from roaming Ponyland, Wildeye, the half watcher, half diplomat who was never around anyway, and... Strider, the forest watcher.
Sarane wasn't due back for several weeks, Wildeye hadn't been seen in several months, so, it must be Strider. Eerie, he was. Different. Not like the others- who became a watcher because they had to, or because that was the only place they were welcome... but because of some greater reason, unknown to Espionage as of yet.

She rumaged through the well-stocked pantry- yes, there were new supplies since she'd last been through here, two weeks ago. Two weeks... had it been that long since she'd last had a hot meal and slept in a bed? Yes, that was right... she'd worked the two weeks after visit Mirth, when she'd seen Strider... it had been the first in several year she'd shared a meal with a watcher- or anyone, for that matter.
She began a fire in the hearth, and decided on stewed tomatos with pasta. It had been a long time since she'd cooked a meal like that. The meal came together practically on it's own. For som reason, she made enough for two, though her appitite had grown smaller on the trail. Inside, she had the eerie, lingering feeling that someone else would want an at least semi-warm dinner.
She ate the meal swiftly- had it ever been a while. Her stomache appreciated the warmth of the meal, as well as the abundance there was of it. But sure enough, when she was done, there was whole serving left over. Casually, as if she didn't care, she dished it onto another plate and covered it with a cloth, tossing her own dishes into the large caldron that served as a cleaning sink.
A bath. She hadn't done one of those in a long time. Well, since she was expecting company, maybe not a bath... but she did wash. If only she stopped by routinely, her washings would stop being river crossings and start using soap- but that was too much to ask of this watcher. The filth in the water bowl afterwords told her she was right, but it didn't stop circumstances.
Soon, she lay down on her watcher bunk- no one but she ever was there often enough to sleep in it- and it was the least dusty of them all- save the one next to it, which Strider must have slept in at some point in the last two weeks. The bunk was hard as stone, with only a thin mat underneath for protection from the rough-hewn wood, and a heavy, scratchy wool blanket. But compared to the ground, it was like floating on a cloud.
Several hours later, Espionage lay tossing restlessly on the bunk, woolen blankets drawn around her. But they were not enough to keep out the chill of her nightmares, nor were they enough to hide her from her past.


Again, these were dreams of her deepest fears, and strongest memories... maybe both were the same thing. She didn't know anymore. She could feel as she traveled back in time, wizzing past through the events of her life- big and small, moving back to the begining of this life, under a different name... she feared, yes, but she knew it could not be helped... and let herself surrender to the power of the dreamworld and the questions still unanswered.
That first day, that first day when her life had changed forever, she had been sitting in the sun, laughing. She was the color of her birth- an earthy brown-red color, like truly rich soil. Her mane had been the color of sunlight, her symbol a willow tree, leaning in the window. She had been laughing, with Forefront. They had been together, on a picnic. She had been singing... beautiful songs, full of love and laughter. And she had stopped, and looked at him in the eyes, her face full of love. And he had looked at her...
Like all perfect moments in life, they never last long enough. Time slows their coming, and yet speeds their ending. She remembered so sweetly how she had leaned foreword, and how he had leaned too... and how they had met in the middle, embracing their promise of marriage with a kiss. Like all last kisses, it never lasted long enough, and though their lips bridged the gap between their minds. When they finally left each other, stillness had fallen.
For a moment, the earth was still, as if everything had stopped. Not a bird chirped- not a child laughted- it was utter silence, and in that silent moment, Espionage felt the same leap of unconquerable strength- the feeling as if time had stopped for her. If only that had been so.
Suddenly, the drumbeats had began. Deep, almost as if from the bowels of the earth, so deep, the ground underneath them vibrated. Without words, they had pulled eachother to their feet, glancing around. It was too late. They were behind everyone else... and they were the last to know. The first house was being flamed, and the armies were marching.
"Go!" Always, in her dreams, time streached at this part. He clung to her a moment, and let his lips graze her forehead, before pushing her away. She always remembered that last kiss.
"Don't look back!" He had screamed at her, but even in her dreams the words slowed to a mollasess speed. "Find The Queen, and warn her!" He had screeched at her as the Vaymypeers slowly came with their bloodlust. She hadn't wanted to leave. She never had. "Go, Spiritsong! I love you!" And then, he always turned, and the vaympeers were upon him. They had not seen her, running backwards, as she had to watch as he let a battle cry rip through the air, and send the villian flying with a leap.
She turned then. Even in her dreams, she remembered the agony of the force of her turn, the feelings that ripped at her throat, and her soul. And she remembered the trip away most of all. Stumbling blindly, knowing the vaymypeers left no survivors, knowing Forefront and her family were dead now, knowing their souls would only rest if she prevented others from dying.
The thought of the name, her old name, always haunted her. Even in her nightmare of the past, she was conscious enough to dwell upon the name. She had never been called Spiritsong- on the few occasions, they had been important. They always called her other things- love, child, my heart... rarely Spiritsong. It was the last time she ever heard her true name- or thought of herself as such. She had been marked from that moment on, from that last moment, her last moment she was sure and true of who she was, or had been, and she knew it.

That memory faded like the dreamword fades from a nightmare. Yet these too, were nightmares of a different sort. Her mind now took her to the day she had spent wandering the forests just outside Dream Valley. But now, it was a different view- omnipitant, watching herself.
She had been seventeen then, and blind with pain. The dark brown figure stumbled blindly over hill and stone, through streams and mud. Sometimes, she could see just how how close she had been to the Vaymypeer armies behind her- sometimes just barely out of sight, sometimes, just around the bend. Seeing what danger had been behind her made it worse then it had in her sleep- she'd always know, now, how close to death she had been those days.
She watched as the Vaymypeers stopped in the night, and as she ran foreword, blind with tears and sleeplessness, even in the dark, to find some place of haven. But all places were at risk. Watching herself, crying in her pain, pound on doors, screaming a warning, was not easy. Unlike most dreams, she was awake enough to have feelings, not just raw fear, but real pain, because these were memories- not just dreams.
Never stopping, always running ahead, even in the dead of night, stopping only at the darkest hours, to snatch half hours of sleep, grabbing handfuls of meals in orchards and farms as she passed- she still remembered being hungry, and just how hungry that was. She remembered the sleeplessness- the feeling of depravity, knowing you had to stop, or die, but to stop would mean death none the less... the vicious circle still left her breathless.
Then they too faded... leaving the feeling of hollowness and fear raw upon her bones.

The next dreams were a blur... by that time, she had been so sleep deprived, and so hungry, she had hardly been able to think. Now it was her view again- her view in eyes so blurred she could hardly see anything, a stomach so hungry she could scarecly breath- so tired, she could scarecly move- but moving still. She stumbled into Dream Valley, falling over the last ridge, unable to concentrate. The single thought- some of Forefront's last words- rang in her mind like a scream. They conquered all pain and doubt and fear- so sure was she that it was Forefront's final wish. "Find the Queen and warn her!" Find the queen... Find the queen... she remembered anew the pain of stumbling through Dream Valley, oblivious to how she looked, unaware she was changed. She again knew spinning around in the villiage square, looking for Dream Castle- suddenly aware that all the citizens of Dream Valley and their stares, as they beheld her with something of an awe, and, too, when her strength failed. It was as if she had truly fallen, so great was the pain to her knees and hooves. She hurt, as in her dream, she fell on the ground, and lay there for a moment, unable to breath. Then, Forefront's words echoed again, and she got up, and started to crawl towards Dream Castle, past the guards, who could not stop her, up the stairs, and towards the royal throne room.
The views changed. She saw herself, not as herself, but as that omnipant watcher. Majesty sat on the throne. She saw herself push the doors open, and, on her hands and knees, interrupt a royal meeting, as she crawled to the throne. She had been crying, and the tears stained the flagstones of the throneroom. The tears fell like tears of the sea, and for some time she lay crying before Majesty's throne. No one had moved to touch her- they were all staring at her in awe, wonder, or perhaps disgust.
"The... Vaymypeers... they draw near... my lady..." Her last words before the change. She remembered that. After she had panted the message out, she watched as all strength left her- and then, she was plunged into darkness. All light faded, leaving the dark of nothing, and it almsot scared her more then the what was coming next.

The next point of her memory and dreams was a bitter one. Again, vision returned to her. It was her own eyes- not the eyes of the watcher, not the eyes of a stranger, not even the eyes of the once innocent Spiritsong- but now, the eyes of Espionage.
Starlight. Bright, shining brilliant in the sky, visible through the glass roof- unlike anything she remembered seeing. She had been high, in the highest tower of Dream Castle- and the starlight had come through the roof, washing her in the pale light, brighter here then it had been in any other place she'd known.
She climbed from the bed, wincing at the pain, swathed in bandages, aching in places she hadn't known she could ache, and abominably hungry. She remembered the mirror on the wall. Looking in it, her face was different- rough, cold, haggard. In the night, she had appeared black. She remembered gazing up through the glass roof, and remembering Forefront. And she had cried.

The next part of the dream tied in with the vision preceding it. The morning had dawned, but this time, it was herself. She got out of bed, aching still, face wet with tears. Sometime during the night, she must have crawled back in. She looked around- and saw through her own eyes. There was a door- a door, leading down, down, down. She was high up, she soon knew. She looked in the mirror. She was so different... scars from scratches and bruises and bites covered her face. She had lost her healthy glow, and the skin seemed to stick to her bones. She had lost her color, and her face seemed black. Black? That couldn't be right... she was brown. She was brown! There had to be some mistake! Unless... unless, the reflection in the mirror in the night hadn't been the night at all... but at true reflection!
She remembered ripping the covers off the bed to behold herself- black as midnight, symboless. Thin, too thin... symboless... when had it happened? What had happened? Where had the earthy tones gone from her, where, the willow tree? Even now, the shock was deep- it registered hard and painful, and in her sleep, Espionage gave a little gasp. What was happening to her?
The scream that had come in the waking days resounded in her ears. Vision seemed to switch- Was she watching herself, or was she dreaming in her own perspective? Or was it both? Now she saw herself fall to her knees, grasping her face, howling in the sunlight, bawling like a baby. Now, she heard the echos of the hoofsteps on the stairs, pounding their way up.
It had been Princess Dawn, a healer. In the arms of this stranger, Espionage had thrown herself, and sobbed, in anguish, for she knew her old life was gone, as Forefront was gone, as Mirth was gone. And Dawn had held her, stroaking her hair, soothing a dark stranger, with a touch as gentle as a mother to her child.

Time had passed. Espionage remembered this part of her life very well- in her long years, it had been the only part she had not forgotten- but in her dream, they blurred the days together, the days as she healed, learning how to eat, and walk, and think again. She remembered the old head Watcher- Spyglass. Spyglass had been a wise, ornery fellow- a pegusus. He had taken her in under his wing, telling her about Ponyland, what dangers watchers had saved the land from- and began instructing her to find order and peace in her life.
He had taught her how to fight on her feet, think on her feet, live and breath and die on her feet, and do everything with speed, silence, and efficiancy. The days in training- alone, with Spyglass, still served her well.
He had taught her how to use her unusual colorings and namelessness to a purpose- instructing her how to watch, fight, and live in shadows, without being seen. He taught her how to walk under different names, how to disguise herself, and how to appear she was more, or less, then she truly was. He taught her, subtly, without much magic, to change fully her being to anything else in the same form.
Spyglass had been the master, and he had taught her well. With nothing behind her, turned loose, abandoning her old name, nothing to tie her back to the old world, Espionage had learned swiftly and quickly. She had began to forget, she had begun to ignore the past, and everything she had left there. She had begun to model herself from his spare, empty rigidness- he cared, and showed it, but seemed cold and immovable when danger approached- calm unto death. There were the moments he laughed, he cried, he sighed, and he spoke, but he taught her how to be easily cool in the face of danger, and how to see things as they were, not as they could have been, or might be.
For a long time, he only called her Girl, and never gave her a name. She never gave him one- he, Master Spyglass, she, Girl- occasionally Lass, nothing more. Until one day, when she had fought on her feet the way he had taught her- when she had worked fast, calming a disturbance, and stopping several problems before they started, when she had utilized all the skills he had taught her to the best of her advantage, then things had changed. She could not now see what she had stopped- she did not remember- but still, she knew how hard the work had been, and had given her all.
She remembered he had called her. In this dream, she seemed to do more remembering then anything else- her memory was the basis for it all.
"Lass, come." He had said to her, that part she remembered very well indeed. They had been dueling, in practice, and, sweating heavily, he had gestured to the seat next to him on the hard wooden bench. Espionage remembered she had defeated him- but it had been very close.
"Lass, I can teach you nothing more. You have learned well, and swiftly, and have been the model student- everything I could have ever wanted from anyone, at any time. It's time you give yourself a new name, and forge an identity of your own, as watcher under the queen." She remembered staring at Spyglass in disbelief- training had been her life for more then two years, and had kept her living when she had nothing left to live for.
"But... this is my life. There is so much more to learn before I become like you, Spyglass." She remembered saying softly. She had been nineteen, and her voice still had run soprano. She had not altered it to fit her new life.
"I don't want you to be like me- make my mistakes, lass! You must learn to become your own watcher, with your own style, and your own sense of yourself!" She stared at him for a moment, not able to think of anything to say.
"Girl, pick a name for yourself!" He had insisted, staring hard at her. She remembered being afraid of his glance, and stammering slightly.
"Es-es- Espionage." She remembered saying it well. In that cool place, under the castle, she had finally found a new name. A new identity- no longer was she bound by her past. Her past could be forgotten- with rigorous enough training, she could forget anyway. If she continued down the path he had begun with her- if she made up rules and kept them- the past could go. She could finally stop having nightmares about the old days.
"Well then, Espionage, a drink for old times sake, and a toast to your bright and promising future as a watcher!" He had poured fine wine from a decanter then, and toasted her. She had never had wine before, and even a little made her slightly giddy. Spyglass had been decent enough to wait until the effect faded before taking her to the newly crowned queen- Serena.

While two years had been condensed into a matter of minutes dreamtime, fuzzy, distant memories, the next one came sure and clear. It was only a few minutes, yet it took more time then all the two years of forgetting and learning. It seemed like a memory now- not one you escaped to, but one that, with a single image, you continued to prompt, until all of it was there, in the dream. A dream that started with an image, a few words- and the rest you could recite along with.
She had gone, with Spyglass, to pledge her undying loyalty to Serena, to wander where Serena willed, to walk where Serena asked, to see what Serena wanted. As long as she never left Ponyland without purpose, she could wander as she would, keeping the ultimate mission inside her.
She swore it, by her life's blood, to wander, walk, seek, and spy whatever Serena desired, and she would make it true. And Serena had given her the Watcher Whistle- the beautiful, functional silver whistles that were used to speak code to other watchers and officials.
Suddenly, time sped, now ompitant, and she watched again. For the next three years, she was at Serena's beck and call, until other things diverted the attention of the queen, and, for a time, she forgot all about the watcher...

Her first clear recollection after the throneroom was returning from the forests. Even Espionage was not sure where she had been, or what she had been doing, for the two years she had been absent. The time was hazy, forgetful, uncertain, yet she had memories of the rainbow, the great sea, a beautiful sword, and witnessing a terrible loss. Yet that was all foggy, and hazy, and Espionage was not sure why she could not remember.
She remembered returning to Serena, though, after watching the strange villian named Nightmare. How little she had known then how his fate, and her own, and the strange connection of the one called Fading Requiem, would be so direly important in her life.
She remembered creeping through the window, and speaking to Serena in a rush, then creeping away, to watch and wait yet evermore. Somewhere in her lost years, she had tightened the militial, but realistic squedual and rules that had started out to help her protect Ponyland- to a point of foolish regulations too strict to possibly keep as long as she was even sane. She did not find pleasent- but it blocked out whatever she was hiding in the lost mists of time. Weather her forgetfulness was a result of her style of living and thinking- or visa versa, Espionage never could tell.

Her next clear memory was after watching, sneaking back towards Serena for another report- and finding a stranger fainted dead away before Dream Castle. She had been drawn towards him, and had tried to heal him... and had done so. Fading Requiem, his name, she knew, and she had little known how fate would bring her alive again. She had taken him deep Within, to the mountains, and called his life back to him.
And taking him back to his companion, Fortune Cookie, and begun the most frightening day of her remembered life, since she had lost Forefront. She had winked with him up to the hallway before Serena. Serena had been with company- so they had waited. In that waiting, something happened.
Somehow, her soul had gone into his, and she had wandered in the dark of his mind, seeing corners and cobwebs, and things none should ever have seen. Yet even in her dreams, she refused to think much on it, though, terribly important, not to be skipped. Yet she could not think of the terror, or the panic, or even what she saw within Fading Requiem- what he had once been, and how eerily like Forefront it seemed to her.
Only upon her escape, and departure, did life begin to make sense again. She remembered dreaming, dreaming about Requiem, and Forefront, and everything she had forgotten in the misty years- before she had left.
She remembered meeting him again, and passing words she couldn't recall, about time, and running. Of recent memories, the ones with him were the most vibrant, the most real, though they possessed a surreal, unbelievable quality.
His gray form, his misty, unclear moonstone eyes, the sorrow of his face... this things came clear to her, and she missed him again. She missed him as she had never missed Forefront- not in the heart-renching anguish, but in the fact she knew she would have been happier never knowing him, and yet, she would never have been happy if she hadn't.
She thought of the power of his face, the unearthly stillness it had... how powerful it was... how strong, behind the stillness. And she loved him, even if she could never know what he had thought, or if he had loved her back.

It was strange, this next memory. This one of fighting beside him, and song. She hadn't sung in a very long time, she remembered. Like all memories tied in with Nightmare, they were vauge, moody, distant, as if things of a lost dream trying to be remembered late, when the mind was not fully focused. She remembered the spider, though, it's gargantuan size, and how simply Nightmare had controlled it. She feared. Nightmare created a tasteless fear in her mouth she could not explain- nor attempt to understand.

The last memory was a cold one. Strange, how, in dreams that chronicled the important moments of her life, it skimmed a vital one- the visitation of Mirth. It was only a few seconds in her dream.
A flash of a vision- walking through the burned ruins of Mirth. Dust and ash still belonged there- five years later. She remembered, and saw, at the same time, walking to her old home, she knew it intimately. The frame still stood- it was one of the few houses that it stood. She watched as she crept through the doorframes and cut across hall and living room to the tiny, inclosed celler. She remembered lifting the strong metal door, and creeping inside. There, curled in a ball, the cellar door half open, just enough to allow air, she had wept.

And now... now her dreams took on a new turn. She was in the eyes of another watcher. Another person, watching, waiting, nonjudgemental... but it was neither omniptant, nor her own. For the vision was in a fixed location- the hearing fixed, as if she was in the mind of some other watcher- who had been watching, just out of mind...
She saw herself sobbing. She watched as she slowly transformed, not completely- but nearly so. She was embaressed to see a thought on the mind of the stranger- If only she knew. Knew what? Curious...
The flutter. Emerald Shadow. Bella. Firefly. They flashed by swiftly, and she was off again. The eyes lingered on her, turning now, to follow her. She felt a strange sense of embaressment, knowing that she was being followed, but that she had not felt it before.

Even in sleep, the next memory harbored bitterness.Serena had called her. She had failed to come for some days, and Serena had wanted her. The news? Painful, and Espionage could not help but cry out in the part of her mind that was awake enough to know she was dreaming, and remembering.
She learned of Requiem's, and Nightmare's, timely departure, and Katrina's take to power. Not surprising- Katrina, old as the hills, appeared so young by her magic. It still scared her that Requiem and Nightmare had left at the same time... doubtless, where Requiem went, Nightmare followed... or was it visa versa? They seemed doomed to each other, and Espionage was pained at the thought. Doomed to each other... they knew eachother well, at least, Espionage thought, and perhaps there was more then just knowledge of each other.

She remembered leaving. These memories were so strange to her! They flashed of the strange watcher- Strider. Now, finally, she was back in her own skin, watching, as she could. She had the eerie feeling that he had been the one who was watching her in the Tear Cove incounter. So, did he know her secret? Would he reveal it?
She had left Serena's office, and was on the secret path that belonged to the watchers. It was a place that only the watchers knew- they used it for going to a fro- from forests to castle, and other places as well. From afar, she had seen someone, and had known innately it was a watcher. The path was almost invisible to any other.
Espionage had watched him as she walked along- he had watched her, and it had been equal. She had not been wearing her customary dark green greatcoat, to keep herself hidden and clean- he had not been wearing a cloak. She was the color of midnight, jet black, so dark she seemed the absense of light- he, a pale, fleshy, off-white color with a dark, straggly mane the color of a light black- not so internally dark.
She had been suppressing tears- her face was red and puffy- his face calm and impassive- the closer she drew to him, the stiller his face was, she realized. It seemed strange, almost, to see a face so unmoved, when her own had become a living thing again, after being still for so long.
She watched him as he approached her, and as she approched him, a strange feeling in her mind about him- a feeling she could not place... something about his cool, masked features was very familiar... but it was not, at the same time. She had not been able to know what he was thinking.
Their paths continued in the same direction until, suddenly, they were almost on top of eachother. The male pony had stopped, and she had a glimpse of his symbol- a sword, lying flat, with a golden crown atop it.
"Greetings, watcher." His voice had been... extrodinary. It had been low, yet it's vocal tones fluctuated so greatly it was like a sort of dark, mysterious piece of music to her ears. She paused, watching his face. Only his eyes seemed to move at all. "I am Strider."
"Greetings, watcher." She had replied, aware she must look a stranger watcher in his eyes- obviously having been in tears, symbolless, dark. "I am Espionage."
For a moment, his face had flickered, the impassive shield broken. She had seen a flicker of almost recognition on his face- and then, stillness again- as if he had thought he knew her, but thought better of it.
"Where do you come from?" It seemed a strange question... but watchers were apt to know about the other watchers they dealt with. She handled it well. She understood. She wanted to know as well.
"Mirth. A little town, outside of Dream Valley. It laughs no longer." She knew he would not have heard of it- but his eyes seemed to recognize the name. "You?" Genuine interest had sparked her response, not polite stupidity.
"The wild. That was my last residence." The wild. The untamed land beyond the seas. He had traveled far to be here. "Before that, Course, a country beyond the western shore." She nodded. He wasn't from Ponyland, then. Ponyland and Course were related closely, but none were certain how.
"A noble line, the Course ponies. Were you born there?" She had asked, though it really wasn't any of her buisness.
"Yes. Course is my home, but my heart is not there." He replied quietly, and she knew not to pursue it further. Doubtless it meant more then it appeared.
"I hear the Course swordmasters make the greatest weapons on all the earth. Is that so?" She asked him. She remembered this question, and it's answer stayed with her longest.
He had slowly, with pride, he had placed his hoof on the hilt of a sword that was as long as he was tall, and drawn it out. It seemed so familiar... as if she had seen it before, but she knew she had not. It's design was distinctive- but she could not have seen it before. She remembered the way the light had caught the shimmering blade, as he laid it across his hooves and offered it to her. Picking it up she marveling at it's lightness, even in dreams. Yet, how strong it was! She could tell it was a well-made blade, and worked efficiantly. Swinging it lightly through the air once, it had shimmered, it's tapered design catching the light. She had caught writing on the hilt, and stopped to read it.
"Anduelar, a blade true. Ring true, Anduelar, Sing true, Anduelar, and fail me not." She read, translating from the strange tounge it was written- the old language, one rarely used now.
"A true blade indeed. You are lucky to have such a treasure at your side, Strider."
"Do you go weaponless?" He gestured to the lack of sword or dagger at her side. She remembered smiling at him with a secret.
"No, not at all. But some weapons are best kept hidden." She smiled then, and he smiled back. She rememebered that smile well. A smile of secrets. It was as if they had exchanged secrets together.
"Good journeys, watcher. May we meet again under fair skies." He had said to her then, saluting her in the old way, touching hooves to forehead, then to lips. She had returned the gesture, she remembered, marveling at it's courtesy.
"Good journeys." And they had parted. Yet, for some reason, the memory lingered, and whenever she recalled all that she had lost, Fading Requiem, Forefront, and Mirth, that memory came too.

The next segment of the dream came strangely to her- it was like the first time, and not at all like memories. It was the second meeting she had with Strider. Two weeks ago. She'd been back here... and how long ago that had seemed!
She had felt, in the strange way of the watchers, that all he had left behind was not gone, but still his, in a way. He had left two things- she knew, what, or why, was still shrouded in mystery. Their last meeting under pained skies, this one was under pleasent ones. It, like the other, had a staying quality that made little sense to Espionage.
This time, Espionage had retreated to the Watcher barracks- again, for a hot meal and a wink of rest. Strange, it was. She came only occasionally- and each time she came, something happened.
She had found Strider. She had felt an inexplainable pull towards him, a sense of odd kinship, though she knew not how or why. He had been sitting, polishing his sword, in the shadows of the firelit cabin.
For some time, in silence, they had contented to being in eachother's company, having said nothing. Espionage fixed her desired hot meal- eggs, toast, and mushrooms. She had fixed for two, without being told.
She had set the steaming plate before him, and he had stared at her for a moment. She was drawn by his gaze, for it held a power she didn't have the heart to let go of. He gazed into her eyes, and she into his, under his control. Had he asked her to kill herself- she would have, to please him. And yet, she wasn't afraid, for some reason.
"Why?" He whispered, sliding his blade across the cloth he had chosen. For a moment, she did not understand, and her features contorted.
"Why do you go to these pains for me?" He asked. His blade caught the firelight, and seemed aflame, but she could not look away.
"Because you are lonely too, just like me." She replied, the answer coming from her heart. He seemed lonely, as if he had left something behind. For a moment, he had stared at her, and then, put his sword away.
"How would you know if I was lonely or not? What was on my heart or mind? Are you some sort of telepath?" He asked as they sat together before the long table by the fire. Espionage lit the lamps on the table, and trimmed the wicks.
"I can see it in your eyes. You've left something behind- something you miss and love, and you left behind something you fear, but not because it hates you or haunts you... because of what has not yet come. That is what I saw." Espionage replied, tucking away into the mushrooms.
It was truly dark outside. The only light came from the fire and the lamps- even the moon was hidden in this forsaken forest ground.
"And you... you grieve for something you could not stop... you have been torn from that you most desire twice, and the grief is new the second time. Is it not so?" He asked her, leaning foreword, holding her in his gaze once more.
"It is." She replied softly, trying to bring herself to close her eyes or look away. She wanted to- but she didn't think she could. After a moment, he broke the gaze, looking away, at the fire.
"What did you leave behind? When you came to be a watcher? Why did you leave it?" He asked her softly, his food forgotten.
"Eat." She told him. He stared at her. "Eat." She repeated, insistant. Obediantly, he lifted fork to mouth, laden with egg. "I left behind the mouldering ruin of my home, my family, and the spent blood of my fiance, Forefront. I became a watcher, for no other path offered the chance to forget." She told him, staring at her food. She picked at it, having little appatite, when she had to remember.
"What of the second sorrow? Why then?" He asked her, leaning foreword again, staring at her. This time, she had the sense to watch his sword, instead of his eyes.
"A curious stallion left. He had opened things I had forgotten, and the loss of his brightness made me sorrow." She replied. "He was... confused." The word came softly, as if she wasn't sure it was the right term. He said nothing, and looked at his plate. The mushrooms were cooked just right, the bread the perfect shade of brown, the eggs, fried. He took a bite of the bread.
"And you? You said you left Course- why? And what did you leave?" She asked him, wanting to poke and prod, but too afraid to do more then question.
"I left because they did not want me. They wished me to do something I could not- and therefore, I left. I also left the girl I love, to become a defender of the most precious and dear places to my heart- of which, Ponyland is chief. She is a princess, but her beauty is more like the immortality of the stars... they call her Aresyal, which is Courage in the common tounge." He told her, his eyes growing distant with those memories.
The name was familiar. Aresyal- she knew it. Courage. She knew the word and name as one. Another had spoken of it... once. Perhaps it had only been a reference to the line of Coursan royalty... but she did not think so.
"Does she love you?" Espionage whispered softly, watching his eyes. They did not see her, nor did they comprehend her at all.
"She promised me her heart, and her eternal love. And she gave me this." He lifted it from his ever-present cloak- a elongated cross, beautifully elaborated with swirling Coursen designs. In the very center of it was a purple stone, cut in the shape of a heart. It was beautiful, and Espionage envied Strider, his love alive, and waiting.
"But if your love lives, why did you stray from her?" Espionage ventured to ask, tearing her eyes from the cross.
"Because as long as evil threatens this land, I cannot live with Aresyal in peace." He replied, and tucked it back under his cloak. They had sat in silence, and, finally, Espionage had removed herself from the dinner to sleep.

She battled with the natural urge to sleep on, and let her dreams continue, or the inexplainable urge to wake, and leave behind the last few weeks behind. After Strider's meeting, what could she do now? What could she see? There was nothing in her life worth seeing now. Yet, the pull of the dream pushed her inwards, and she journeyed inside, strange as ever.

She saw herself boarding a great ship, crammed with other ponies. She remembered passing out of Ponyland's boarders, and heading South- towards the unknown lands. She remembered what she had forgotten- in part at least. The journey seemed to press ever towards there, and a dread filled her heart, though she knew not why.
Hard, it was, and a strict, rigorous memory of the organization and order of Spyglass became her motivation, she soon realized, for the sharpness of living on that crowded ship, with no privacy, and many spying eyes. She understood why the rules were so course, so cruel, so... sharp. Yet still, a reason for forgetting was not hers.
Upon finally reaching Course, she remembered being the only one able to walk straight off the gangplank, and being the only one who had come with no real reason. She remembered wandering near and far, through the untamed lands, without knowledge of how or why.
And then, things began to grow strangely dim. She remembered falling into the company of someone who was so familiar... yet so unfamiliar... his face was masked from her, and his name hidden. He wore a sword at his side, and a cloak on always. She remembered flashes of his poetry, his voice, and how he spoke of his beloved, but they became lost in a haze, unclear.
Suddenly, the next piece unfolded startlingly clear, and she wondered why she had not remembered it before. Stumbling across a band of Dark Ponies, cursed, and maddened, like hornets. She remembered they had fought back to back, surrounded by the superior forces. The ringing of the steel upon his blade, and the volley of her arrows stinging the air. When arrows no longer were of use- she resorted to slashing and hacking with a scmitar she had borrowed from a dead body.
And then, she had tripped, and her companion was distracted in another direction. Blocking a swing with a giant axe by the band leader, her sword was broken, and she was weaponless. And then, the leader of the band had come, swinging the mighty battle-axe. He was going to kill her. In his eyes, she could see it. He swung his mighty battle axe, and she scurred backwards, trying to escape. He almost cleaved off her nose, she remembered. Moving backwards with all the speed she could muster, she ran into a boulder, and now, there was no way out.
The next part slowed, as the pony raised his axe. Her eyes had seemed to be two parts- one riveted to the progress of the axe- one to find her companion. He was not behind the war leader, that she knew. She remembered the fear raw in her throat, screaming her companions name with all her strength and might, trying to find a way to escape. Not only did she remember, but the feeling was like it had been the first time- everything clear and vivid under the desert sun. She could feel the dry fear in her throat, dry fear so massive she could hardly breath. It was only a second, perhaps less, yet it seemed forever- the agony seemed to be a thousand years. Her throat dry with fear, her thoughts unclear, her mind wild. One thought echoed through her head. There was only one who could save her now. She screamed his name with all the life left in her body.
"Duain!" And the axe came swinging down, slowed by her nightmare...

She awoke with a start, panting and shivering. Someone was at her side- Strider. He held her hoof, and stared at her. How he had gotten there, she did not know.
"You called my name, Espionage. I am here." She stared at him, not comprehending.
"But... your not Duain ... I dreamt of the years I forgot..." She whispered, staring at him, not comprehending. "Yet your face and blade were so familiar.... how can this be? And I knew of your beloved long before you told me..." She was dizzy, and she felt sick. And confused.
"Your sleep was like that of someone who was ill." He told her. "You muttered and mumbled, and tossed, and had a restless night. But it was not physical sickness... it was troubled dreams. So I came, to make sure nothing happened." He told her, letting her go. She stared at him. If he was Duain, but had not known her... who was she?
"What happened?" She demanded. He stared at her. "If you are Duain... what happened when I came to Course, on a large ship, and wandered the deserts with you? Two years past, maybe one. What happened?" She was adament to know. She had to piece together the part of her life she had forgotten.
"But Espionage never wandered with Duain. But two years, mayhap one, a navy blue unicorn named Estrael took up wandering residense with the ranger Duain." He told her. She stared at him, not comprehending. "Didn't you know you have the power to change? Once- no, twice, in my company you changed forms, but always returned to that of the blue cloaked unicorn. You took up the name Estrael- spy, in the Coursan tounge. Upon our first meeting, I did not recognize you. You have changed much since you were Estrael." He told her, and she believed him. "I know your not all you appear to be... if you don't want to be Estrael, or the person of your past, you don't have to be. I understand." Strider told her, and for some reason, she understood he wasn't just talking about her color changes... he was talking about himself, too.
"But... what happened? In my dream, we were attacked by dark ones, who's souls had been tortured by a foul wizard... and my bow was of little use in that situation. I tried to keep them with the scmitar but... my step faltered, and I was without defensive weapon against the huge one with an axe... he came swinging the battleaxe at me... and I screamed your name..." Her eyes were wide with fear- even speaking of it brought back the strange, fearful sensations- the dry fear, greater then what she had felt anywhere near Nightmare.
"I saw your plight and leapt upon the pony, thus giving you time to seize a fallen weapon and help me stop him. I earned this." He threw back the hood of his cloak, and traced a long scar from his jawbone to his lower neck. It's color was disfigured against the pale white of his skin. A long, brutal scar. Espionage gasped- she couldn't help it. It was ugly, still.
"Yes, ugly, isn't it? It was worth it- you were the best fighter I ever happened to come across and work with. That was during the second half of the first year- before you said you felt a calling to return to your native homeland of Ponyland, and resume your line of work there. After we parted, I spent time with Areysal, in her home, before I realized there was nothing left for me in Course. They did not want me, or need me, and so, I departed. You had said there was need of my kind in Ponyland- namely, Dream Valley, so I went. I looked for Estrael, but I didn't know she had never exsisted." He told her, smiling. "I am glad to have found you." She did not understand why, but his words caused faint color to creep into her cheeks, and they made her feel unusually happy. More memories came pouring back, and the past she had forgotten began to fill in place.
"Thankyou. I finally... can remember... for so long, after I returned, I could not remember anything- anything at all, about myself, or who I was- save that Serena wanted me, and I was Espionage. And then, I met Requiem, and he... I remembered about my past, but not about where I had been before Serena called me..." Espionage sighed with relief. Parts of it were still missing, but... finally, she could live again with the knowledge of who she was, and where she had been.
"Worry not, Espionage. The time is coming when my blade will see action again... will you join me then? Now that you know who you are, and who you were, and have been, will you join me?" He looked deep into her eyes, as if piercing her soul, and she felt a strange desire to do whatever he wanted... to do whatever her companion desired, being part of her past, and a definate part of her future- being both Strider and Duain. Being a friend.
"I... I... yes. I will join you, on the field. But... I may not be able to stay for long. Serena calls me to do something important... I can't die, either, or it won't be done." She felt happier then she had in a long time... Fading Requiem hadn't made her happy, he had only helped her remember. Strange, that Strider make her happy, he whom she had first so disliked.
"And what of a blade? You cannot fight without one." He asked, toying his long hilt.
"No... I haven't had a sword or bow in a long time..." She admitted softly.
"Then I will see to it you have one. And that is all. Sleep now, friend. Neither shadows, nor nightmares, should hold on you any longer." He smoothed the hair on her forehead, like an older brother helping his sibling sister, and Espionage slept.


When Espionage awoke, there was neither hide nor hair of Strider. The only sign that she was sure last night hadn't competely been a dream was the longbow resting on the huge oak table. She lifted it, and found a quiver full of arrows, and a thick, long blade, sheathed in a heavy leather scabbard. It appeared to be a last choice slashing blade, for getting out of messes. Smiling grimly, glad she knew last night hadn't just been a long nightmare, and glad that Strider had kept his promise, she fastened the scabbard to her belt and slung the quiver and bow on her back. Lifting the cloak upon her shoulders, she took a fresh supply of bread and cheese, tucked it away in her cloak, and took a last look around.
It might be some time before she saw the Watcher Cabin again. She saluted to it and it's rough hewn beds, the supplies kept well in stock by whatever brave soul ventured out here regularly, and to it's warm fire.
Then, she turned, and was out again, off to do her job, and do it well.


Legal Poop:
I don't own My Little Ponies, I don't mean to disturb Hasbro's copyright, etc, etc. And yes, Strider/Duain is INSPIRED by Aragorn of Lord of the Rings... not exactly the same, no offense meant, I don't mean to disturb the copyrights on LOTR- movie, book, products, etc.... Please direct questions/comments (no flameing, spam, or other useless prattle) to dv_sim@yahoo.com