Circuitous Scholarship

by OleGrayMane

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Rarity, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life
Length: 6940

Only one thing stands between Twilight and the completion of her ambitious report: her curiosity.

ONLY ONE THING stands between Twilight and the completion of her ambitious report: her curiosity.

Proofreader: CanoLathra ● Editor: BlueBook
Added to Twilight's Library 11th Jul 2013

Published 2013-06-13 01:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-13 01:10:02 UTC

Circuitous Scholarship

Sleep hadn't come easily to Twilight Sparkle. Anticipation and anxiety kept her mind racing through the early morning hours. Then, just as rest came at last, she heard the knock at the front door.

Rarity arrived earlier than had been agreed. Now, she sat by the door wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a blue kerchief around her neck: the finest of her exploration wardrobe. She'd brought along her exquisitely embroidered saddlebags in expectation of a rewarding day of gem hunting with Spike, her usual companion for these jaunts. While the little dragon completed his preparations in the kitchen, she attempted to make small talk with Twilight.

“Are you sure you won't need him at all today my dear?” Rarity asked.

“No,” Twilight said through a yawn. “We got everything prepared last night. We pulled all the research materials and organized them before we went to bed. I've got plenty of note cards, ink, and spare quills. I don't think I've ever been so well prepared.”

She yawned again. “Now, if I could just wake up.”

“While I'm no fan of the early morning myself,” Rarity said, “I must say I found the predawn walk in the crisp air rather exhilarating. Getting up this early makes me feel, oh, I don't know, a little naughty. It's like I'm off on some grand, romantic adventure,” she giggled.

Twilight stared back bleary eyed.

“Maybe a nice walk would wake you up, too.”

“Maybe, but I've got so much to do here.” Twilight gestured towards the stacks of books strategically placed around the main room of the library. “Another cup of tea and I'm sure I'll be awake enough to function.” She walked over to the teapot and filled her empty cup.

“So dear,” Rarity said, “explain to me why this report of yours is so special.”

“Because I want to make it special.” Twilight held the cup under her nose, inhaling the steam before gingerly sipping her tea.

“Princess Celestia didn't ask you to research anything special?”

“No, but I'm going to make it so special, I'll get the absolute top grade possible.”

“Twilight Sparkle, in all the years I have known you, you have never gotten less than an A+ on any report. I dare say your perfection is monotonous.”

“Exactly,” she said, “and that's why this time I'll outdo myself and get an A++.” She beamed a knowing smiled.

“Ah—I see.” Rarity paused and flattened her kerchief. “I imagine your special, A++ report must have quite an exciting topic, does it not?”

“Oh, it does! It's entitled The Socioeconomic and Political Impact of Ancient Equestrian Agrarian Developments.”

“So…” Rarity twirled her hoof in the air. “Farming?”

“Oh, it's much more than that,” she began with zeal. “I plan to coalesce a myriad of knowledge showing how early agricultural developments formed the very basis of current society.”

“Well, do forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm for the subject,” Rarity apologized, “but I'm certain it's quite scholarly and will impress the Princess.”

“I understand, Rarity. Trust me though, it's quite complex and extremely fascinating.” Twilight levitated one of the many books from a nearby table and began reading as she nursed her tea.

A piece of silverware clattered to the kitchen floor. Rarity's head spun towards where the little dragon noisily completed his preparations.

“Spike dear, are you almost finished?”

“A few more things, then I'll be ready.”

“Don't make too much now, I don't want to have to carry you back if you get a tummy ache.”

“You're going to eat too aren't you?” he said accusingly.

“Yes, but don't make much for me, after all, I must preserve my girlish figure.” She flipped her mane back with her hoof, holding the pose for a second, as if expecting the flash of a camera.

Spike scoffed and resumed his work in the kitchen. Meanwhile, an awkward silence filled the main room. Twilight, preoccupied with her textbook, ignored her guest.

“Now,” Rarity began, “I wanted to inform you of our itinerary.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight turned a page in the book floating in front of her face.

“If all goes well, we will be up in the mountains well before noon, then we plan on exploring some rather interesting caves.”

“Of course,” she replied automatically.

“I expect we shan't leave till dusk,” Rarity said, “so don't expect us back till rather late.”

“Well, at least that far.” Twilight took a sip of tea.

Rarity glowered and her normally cheery voice became a monotone.

“Then we'll kidnap the mayor and burn down town hall.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Twilight Sparkle!” Rarity stomped her hoof. “Do pay attention!”

The aura surrounding the book disappeared and it fell to the floor, revealing Twilight's bulging eyes.

“I-I-I'm sorry,” Twilight stammered, “what were you saying?”

Rarity threw her head back and huffed. Inhaling deeply, she said: “Spike and I will be gone all day gem hunting in the caves up in the mountains and won't be home till well after dark so don't bother to wait up for us!” She gasped for breath.

“I knew that. Spike told me all about your plans last night.”

“That I did.” The little dragon emerged from the kitchen wearing a backpack bulging with homemade goodies for the day's outing.

“Ready to go?” Rarity asked.

“Yes, Ma'am!” He jammed his thumbs beneath the pack's straps and bobbed on his toes.

“Goodbye, have fun.” Twilight waved while returning the dropped book to the table.

“Bye-bye dear,” Rarity chirped as she opened the door. “Good luck on your report!”

“Bye Twilight,” Spike said. “You behave and I'll see ya tonight!”

“Get out you two,” she joked, “otherwise I won't get any work done. Oh, Spike, I almost forgot. Do get the sign please.”

“Sure thing.” He grabbed the painted wooden sign resting on the table as he left. He closed the library's front door and stood on his toes to put the sign in place.

It read: “Closed for Report”.

~~~

Twilight refilled her cup as she contemplated the day's work. The complex thesis she'd developed involved technology, sociology, even politics, and to support it she needed to work with maximum efficiency in a minimum amount of time. Using her preliminary outline as a guide, she and Spike spent the previous day pulling reference books and stacking them by topic for speedy access. Thinking of all the interesting facts she would uncover today made her giddy.

The more interesting topics would have to wait, as her premise rested firmly in Equestria's distant past, when ponies struggled to survive in a primitive state. She took another sip from her cup and placed it on the table. After a stretch, she ambled over to the stack where she needed to begin her research: Prehistory. Twilight stood confidently in front of the pile, took the topmost book, and began her research.

She opened the book from the back, and went directly to its index. She selected a page listed under “agriculture, foundations of” and started reading.

From Grazing to Agriculture

While academics have long debated the origins of pony agriculture, they all agree that at one time all ponykind lived solely by subsistence grazing. Small herds of Unicorns, Pegasi, and Earth ponies, dwelling side-by-side on the Equestrian plains, consumed only flavorless, wild crops that provided them with limited nutritional value.

Somewhere in that past, Earth ponies became conscious of their intrinsic magic, leading to the most primitive beginnings of cultivation. Earth pony sensitivity to the natural world led them to experiment with the gathering and planting of seeds, in particular grains such as oats and wheat. From the humble scratching in soil, with the addition of seed and natural fertilizer, the Earth pony helped bring forth an agricultural revolution for all ponykind. Some scholars believe Unicorns instructed them in these techniques, but there exists no solid evidence of this, although as fellow terrestrial ponies they were most likely pivotal in the process.

The Pegasi involvement in early agricultural development is somewhat debatable. It has been suggested that initially they were more of a nuisance.Being free-spirited and irresponsible, they hindered developments by descending upon cultivated fields, consuming the crops before they could be harvested. They failed to see their own potential, and limited the use of their powers to the manipulation of clouds for the construction of crude nest like dwellings, and playing high spirited games that cleared the sky of errant clouds.

Simple quid pro quo agreements of precipitation and cloud tending for food supplies eventually secured the life-giving services of the Pegasi. Once the Pegasi became involved in the agricultural process, by providing irrigation to vast swaths of land, crop yields exploded, leading to improved nutrition and larger populations. Despite the lack of written records, Unicorns were certainly the arbitrators of these agreements, although a few scholars still remain rather stubbornly unconvinced.

Agricultural improvements soon lead to a wide range of other developments, not limited to…

Twilight knitted her brow and frowned. “Too general, and what a strange bias.” The book floated across the room to where she let it drop with a resounding thunk. The volume had the dubious distinction of being the first occupant of the discard pile.

“Pegasi involvement…” she muttered as she tapped her chin. Maybe their involvement would be a better way to start her research, then she could expand from there. After all, the social interaction between pony species most likely began with those early cooperative agreements. She trotted off to her piles of history books in search of the Pegasi connection.

She stood before two stacks that rose to half again her height. Her gaze darted rapidly back and forth between them as she read titles. Finally, she split the right-most pile and retrieved a thick volume bound in bright blue and gold. Its cover read Empires of the Sky: An Illustrated History of the Early Pegasi.

She lowered the book to the floor, flipped it open, and began to read. The thick, yellowed pages gave off a slight musty odor that would have offended most ponies, but to Twilight it was a perfume. She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the smell of discovery coming from the old book, then dove into its pages.

“It's unfortunate these old ones never have decent tables of contents,” she complained to nopony in particular as she browsed.

The book's stilted prose indicated outdated content, but words weren't the appeal of this book. Every section contained full page, brilliantly colored images of Pegasi darting amongst clouds or occupying mountain peeks. Soon the words disappeared, and she gave rapt attention to the vivid drawings.

When she was a foal she always received gifts of informational books with drawings or pictures. She loved them dearly; after all, they fostered her budding love of learning. However, the artistry of these illustrations surpassed anything she'd seen before. As she turned the pages, the stunning artwork made her forget the world, including her report.

As she progressed, the outdoor scenes changed to cities constructed in the clouds, filled with fanciful castles and spires made from vapor. The drawings of the early empires showed ponies with elaborately styled manes, couturiers dressed in grand fashion, and warriors clad in decorated armor. She laid down and rested her head on her hoof.

She paused at a drawing of a fearsome stallion. The dark, forbidding figure reared back, his yellow eyes burning fiercely as two armored Pegasi attacked him with gruesome looking weapons.

What is going on here? She read the article from the opposing page.

The Many Legends of King Thunderhead

Whether he existed as an individual, a composite, or even if he existed at all—for the matter may never be resolved—Thunderhead stands as a seminal figure in Pegasi history. Shrouded in prehistory, his origin comes to us in stories of more than a dozen forms, attempting to give parentage, diversion, and even admonition to Pegasi ponies.

As the tails of Thunderhead pre-date the development of literature, his deeds were initially conveyed in songs designed to be sung to the rhythmic stamping of hooves. The songs speak of the unification of tribes, acts of valor, and the defeat of common foes, all helping to cement the various Pegasi factions into a single empire. Historians argue that Thunderhead must exist in legend only, for his numerous heroic deeds exceed the capability of an actual individual. Instead, they believe him a fictional composite of nameless leaders, fused together by the artistic license of ancient poets.

These dramatic and uplifting stories entertained and encouraged the members of the young warrior nation, but as the nation matured, so did its art forms, and the warrior king's tale takes an ominous turn. With the refinement of the dramatic arts, the simple songs for a warrior audience become plays for public entertainment. At this point, Thunderhead's story matures into a cautionary tale of power and corruption: High drama steeped in blood. Henceforth, the once valorous monarch becomes a tyrant who leads his empire in a disastrous war against neighboring dragons. His generals rebel, and his brutal murder is the culmination of the drama. The grim, cautionary tale has been a favorite through the ages in the form of plays by numerous authors—who portray the king with various sympathies—and recently a very successful opera.

His tales extend to the printed word, and many curricula feature texts that examine the historical and social impact of plays, poems, and music on the…

Oh, yeah, Twilight thought, I slept through the second half of that opera when I was eight or nine. She examined the assassination of the doomed king portrayed on the adjacent page.

What's the name of the weapons the guards are holding? It's not a spear, but it's not an axe either. If Shiny were here he would know…

Her brother wasn't handy to provide a quick answer, so she would have to find it herself. She stood up and stretched. Since her thesis didn't include weaponry, she and Spike hadn't pulled any appropriate texts from the shelves. She would have to—

Twilight froze and bit the corner of her lip.

No, she told herself. I'm getting tangential. I need to keep my focus and get back to the Pegasi angle of agrarian development. But, she had made an early start. And the clock barely read a quarter to ten. Why, it would only take a moment to satisfy the itch of curiosity and identify those weapons.

Just a few minutes, that's all I need. She hurried to the history shelves and scanned for books on militaria, something visual so she could make a quick identification and get back to her paper's topic.

Ah, there! The illustrated weapons guide dropped to the circular table and she began a frantic search.

Maces? Spears? No, to primitive. Tridents? Tridents don't have blades, and duh, what do you think the 'tri' means, Twi. She snorted. Following the early weapons were at least half a dozen pages of bows, and then numerous pages of arrowhead designs.

Ah archery, she reminisced. Summer camp and another opportunity for me to put out the eye of a fellow camper. She grinned and shook her head.

Then came page after page of edged weapons, but no pole-arms.

Too bad Shiny isn't here, this is exactly the type of book he loves. She raised her hoof. Which is why…

She levitated a note card and quill from her desk and quickly scribbled down the title and publisher of the book. Below it she wrote and circled Shiny's birthday, then sent the materials back to her desk.

Twilight fondly recalled many a quiet evening with her brother, their noses planted in their respective books. Growing up in a house filled with books, a foal could always find something new or interesting to read. Yet despite the variety of books available, her brother spent hours reading and rereading books just like this one. Given the opportunity, however, he preferred to view the genuine artifacts in one of Canterlot's museums.

~~~

The unicorn colt danced with excitement.

“Mom… Mom… Mom… MOM…”

“Shining Armor keep your voice down,” she scolded. It was mid-afternoon, and the family visit to the Canterlot Art Museum neared its end. By this time, Twilight Velvet knew exactly what her son was going to ask, because she'd heard the question at least ten times earlier in the day.

“Can we go to the Armor Court now?”

“We promised you we'd go, but first your father and I would like to see the new tapestry exhibit.”

“Tapestries are dumb,” he blurted.

“Young stallion, what have I told you…” his father reprimanded.

“Uh, I mean—” He stopped fidgeting and lowered his head. “I find them uninteresting.”

“Better,” Night Light said. “We will get there eventually, but you must learn patience. You need to consider what others want to do, like your mother and I, not to mention your little sister.”

“I want to see what Shiny wants to see,” piped the diminutive Twilight Sparkle.

Their parents looked at one another.

“He is almost nine—” Night Light suggested.

“And we could use a break,” Twilight Velvet concluded. “Shiny, we would need you to be responsible and take care of your sister.”

“Yes Ma'am!” The colt snapped to attention and saluted.

“Twilight, you must stay with your brother and not wander off, all right?” her father instructed.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, in that case,” Night Light said, “you two may go by yourselves. But I want you back here at sixteen-hundred sharp for a rendezvous, understand soldier?” He unsuccessfully contained a smile.

“Understood sir!”

“Well then—dismissed.”

“C'mon Twilly!” Shiny called as he bounded off towards his favorite part of the museum.

~~~

A semi-circle of ponyquins draped in armor occupied the center of the museum's aptly named Armor Court. From left-to-right, the specimens documented the progress of the armorer's art. The primitive mail on the first gave way to heavy plates, followed by versions composed of dozens of precisely fitted parts allowing the wearer maximum flexibility. The final examples embodied the principles of the modern light designs, yet they were not utilitarian. Their decorated surfaces, adorned with ornate etched designs, identified the owners and celebrated their victories. No longer ordinary tools of conflict, these pieces showed the craftsman's work elevated to works of art.

However fascinating the central display, the colt and his young sister's attention was drawn elsewhere. The pair walked alongside the glass cases surrounding the room's perimeter, examining the dizzying array of weapons they contained.

Twilight walked next to her older brother, nodding attentively as he read the display cards to her in a whisper. In some ways, the objects on display were strangely familiar to her. The books Shiny brought home from the school library contained hundreds of drawings and photographs of the tools of war. She'd been through every one, as few books were off-limits to her despite her age. Even though they seemed familiar, standing before the actual artifacts—most many times larger than herself—left her with an unsettling feeling, one for which her young mind had no word.

By the time they made their way to the third case, she halted. Displayed vertically in the case was an enormous broadsword unlike any other in the collection. Its hilt and guard were undecorated, its dark gray blade neither polished nor pitted with age. Eddying patterns of light and dark made the blade's metal appeared molten, a swirling chaos frozen in time. The cold, dreadful beauty of the object held her transfixed.

Unaware that she was no longer by his side, her brother started reading aloud the descriptions from the next case. He turned his head and realized he'd left her behind.

“Hey, Twilly, keep up,” he called softly.

“Shiny, what's this made of?”

He walked back to where she stood. “That? Oh, it's a special way of making the metal so its stronger and stays sharp, that's all.”

“Oh.” The sword's grim fascination held its sway. “Shiny—”

“What sis?”

“Did ponies hurt each other with these?”

“In the past, yeah, sometimes they did. They don't use things like this anymore.”

“I'm glad.” She turned to her brother. “When you're a soldier, don't hurt ponies with these, Shiny.”

“I won't Twilight, I promise. I'll be a soldier that helps ponies, not one that hurts them.”

~~~

A slight smile crossed Twilight's face as she indulged in reverie. She continued languidly flipping pages, when abruptly, her eyes opened wide and she turned back a page. The object of her search stared back at her, and she had almost missed it. She straightened up and grinned.

“Halberd,” she declared as she tapped the page triumphantly. “I should have remembered from all those visits to the museum.” She imagined her brother would be cross if he found out she had forgotten halberds.

Twilight continued idly flipping through the book, recalling numerous museum trips with her family. Before too many pages had passed, she found the book held a surprise, and she shook her head in disbelief. It contained a picture of a sword with the fascinating blade she remembered from the museum. Her pulse quickened as she read the description, confident the book would answer her question from years ago.

A special steel to provide strength and keen edges, a recipe lost hundreds of years ago with the advent of better steel making processes. These blades, favored by kings of old for blah, blah, blah…

She grunted and snapped the book closed. Her eyes narrowed as she sat motionless, thinking. An answer must exist, and something told her it was close. But where? She glared at the shelves with a dour expression.

Didn't we just get in something new? She perked up, recalling a translation of a text in ancient Equestrian, thick and heavy, so heavy that Spike made a joke while shelving the tome.

She deepened her voice and mimicked her young assistant: “Gee Twilight, are you sure it's not made of metal?”

Ha, ha, Spike. Now where exactly did you put it? It wasn't shelved under history, for she would have remembered it from yesterday. She trotted over to the science section.

Nope, not here either. That leaves…

There it sat, high on the shelf above her, filed under technology. A magical aura surrounded the enormous book as it descended to rest next to her.

No wonder he complained!

By comparison, On the Nature of Metals—translated and profusely annotated by the renown Professor Hayward Hoofer of The Royal University of Canterlot—made the Standard Equestrian Dictionary seem like a primer. The translation provided meticulous details on terminology, cross references, historical notes, so much so, that it doubled the books original contents. In contrast to the illustrated Pegasi history, this book's table of contents practically made her swoon. Multiple sections detailed the different aspects of the metallurgical arts: advice on finding veins of ore and planing mines, mining tools and machinery construction, assaying and ore preparation, even smelting and separating precious metals. A smile returned to her face.

“Ah ha!” she cried. Certainly the answer to the blade's distinctive pattern existed in this book, but where to start in such a massive work? She wrinkled her nose as she surveyed the table of contents again.

Well, she reasoned, if the pattern comes from a special technique, I'll start at smelting.

Smelting: Roasting, Extraction, and Separation

The owner, now in firm and wise control of mine and material, must turn his attention to the design and management of the extractive process(i) lest all other labors be naught. The ore now procured and assayed must be prepared for the reduction by flame and salt so as the metal may finally be wrested from its confines.

Stout laborers must be employed to reduce the raw ore to the desired grade for roasting within the flame. Robust earth ponies, preferred for their stamina and affinity, equipped with iron mallets, should reduce the ore by blows before the results are run through sieves for separation. Others should be simultaneously employed in the preparation of salts(ii) used in subsequent purification processes, as the required labor is somewhat similar, yet not as demanding.

The owner must carefully select the furnace master, for this pony alone will determine the final success of the extractive process. For this role, only the Unicorn is suitable, for his elemental affinity(iii) will reliably guide him in the regulation of the flame. It is of foremost importance that the master of the furnace be suitably skilled in the art of building the fire and maintaining a correct and constant heat as the roasting process progresses. The master must be attuned to the ore's state and be keen to the timing of the addition of salts, thusly driving impurities from the raw ore prior to the reduction step, which ultimately yields the metal itself. The attention to the interplay of ore, salts, and flame requires the concentration and natural affinity of the Unicorn.

The furnace master is but one pony, and requires swift and talented helpers in the execution of processes. Helpers can be of any member of ponykind, as their lone skill must be a devotion to their master, heeding orders for fire and salts, thus ensuring the correct extractive process for the metal contained within the ore. Of these skills, the measurement and application of salts are most crucial…

Affinity? Twilight tilted her head. What is he going on about? She raced to the notes at the section's end.

ii – The modern metallurgist would say fluxes where the ancient one would say salts.

iii – The author, along with many of his time, subscribed to the theory that talents were intrinsic to a pony's species rather than the individual's physical or mental prowess, or their predilection. Hence the authors repetition of selecting workers based upon a species' associated element.

iv – The process of creating the highly desired, but unusually named, wootz steel appears to be based upon the impurities found in the ore itself rather than any introduced materials or additional processes as suggested by the author.

Twilight put her hooves on the side of her head. Baffling nonsense! She contemplated kicking the book, but that would be blasphemy. Plus, the volume was simply too large. After several deep breaths, she regained her composure.

Tea, she decided, I need tea. Without delay, she went to the desk and found her cup. Its contents were stone cold. Wide eyed, she looked at the clock. It read half past eleven.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She curled her forelegs over her head and moaned. The morning had disappeared, her early start had been wasted, and the ambitious report wasn't even started.

She rocked back and forth. Don't panic Twilight, you can do this. The day isn't over, she rationalized. I just need to regroup. Spike and Rarity won't be back for hours, I'll have ample time. Okay, first I'll—

She winced as her stomach gurgled obnoxiously. After all, three cups of tea hardly constituted a substantial breakfast.

That's the problem, she concluded. Food, that's why I haven't been able to focus—low blood sugar. If Spike was here, he would have made sure I'd eaten something.

“Okay body, I hear you—lunch first, report second.” Convinced that a decent meal would get her back on track, she took the cup and confidently trotted off to the kitchen.

The remains of Spike's preparations lay strewn across the counter, but for once, Twilight didn't mind. She rummaged a biscuit from an open container and started munching. Tea was next, so she levitated the kettle to the sink and began filling it.

While it filled, she stared vacantly out the window, noticing how nicely the day had developed. She reached over and opened the sash, letting in a mild midday breeze: no longer cool, but not yet warm. The breeze carried the scent of the lavender blooming in the library's garden, and the fresh, fragrant air, as well as the swiftly disappearing biscuit, raised her spirits.

She nodded gently. All she needed was a little more focus, some determined browsing, and plenty of note taking, then her report would be under way. This morning's aberrations, why, they were merely a series of missteps brought on by neglecting to eat—nothing more. With a little lunch and some hot tea, she would be back to her levelheaded self, and her report would be a resounding success.

Relaxed, she let her gaze wander over the outdoors, not noticing the overflowing kettle in front of her.

The muscles in her jaw tightened and her eye twitched. She closed the tap and poured off the extra water, then returned the kettle to the stove. On her way over, she roughly grabbed a second biscuit. After igniting the burner, she sat down and jammed the biscuit into her mouth.

Elemental affinity, what unintelligible drivel. Flames licked the metal kettle, and the water drops on its side hissed as they evaporated.

Abstruse intellectuals eschewing clarity—what a useless lot. She tore off another mouthful of biscuit and flipped her forelock aside.

The breeze gusted, making the flames waver noisily on one side of the kettle. Waiting for the water to boil soon became intolerable. She walked to the doorway leading to the library to finish the beginnings of her lunch. Leaning on the doorframe with her forelegs crossed, she pursed her lips and looked forlorn at her beloved library. A sea of information lay at her disposal, yet she was adrift, blown off course by her own curiosity.

“Oh, Twilight,” she sighed, “why can't you let these things go.”

Somewhere on those orderly shelves the answer to her question lay hidden. But searching for answers only created new questions, and their answers begat still more questions. She'd always known the pursuit of knowledge was an endless quest, yet something always drove her onward. Her unquenchable thirst for information had always been key to her success, but today, she had to admit, it worked against her.

“I was better off watching the kettle boil.”

Her body became stiff and her eyes opened wide as a cascade of ideas rushed forth: boiling water, steam, transformation, combustion, matter states.

Is it that simple?

She swallowed the last fragment of the biscuit and hurried to the shelves to find a book on alchemy. As she leafed through it, the kettle whistled. Twilight returned to the kitchen taking the alchemy book with her. After depositing the book on the counter, she went about preparing her tea. It would be several minutes before it would finish steeping, so she scavenged a few more pieces from Spike's scraps and declared lunch complete. She sat down to look through the alchemy book as she ate.

Last one, I swear, then back to the report. She stuffed a somewhat limp carrot in her mouth. I'm on lunch break so this doesn't count anyway.

The half-eaten carrot dangled from the side of her mouth as she landed on the page describing the classical elements. Is that all the ancient author had meant by elemental affinity? The relationship of a pony's species to this absurdly primitive explanation of matter?

Well, she thought, strange, but not entirely irrational. Earth ponies for anything earth related, like ore and metals. Pegasi and air is too obvious. Unicorns for fire? Well, the arcane energy pouring off a highly incensed Unicorn does look like fire. She took a satisfied breath and the last of the carrot disappeared with satisfied crunches.

“So,” she finished chewing and swallowed, “there's the answer.” Now she would be able to return to her report with confidence. Elemental affinity simply associates one of the four elements—earth, air, fire, and water—with one of the four pony—

“Four? But there are only three kinds of ponies, who gets water?” She voraciously read the remainder of the page, then jerked her head back.

“No. They—they can't be serious,” she sneered. Twilight hurried to the library's main room, and retrieved a volume she'd had the misfortune of consulting too many times: Rare and Legendary Creatures of Equestria, Third Edition.

Thanks to the well indexed book, she found the authors of the alchemy book were quite serious.

The Water Horse

The water horse, or in the vernacular, “sea pony”, presents one of the most puzzling and disturbing mythos to ponykind. This legendary creature dredges up deep seated fears, resulting in gruesome, yet riveting, tales told throughout the ages.

The sea pony's physical description varies by locale, but does not differ much from our own anatomy. The prime difference is a tail for locomotion in place of the hindquarters, variously described as either dolphin-like or, less frequently, scaly like a fish. Likewise, the forelegs end either in hooves or may be webbed like a frog. Manes are typically normal hair, but may occasionally said to be formed of seaweed or rushes.

Universally though, the water horse is a vicious monster, bent upon the murder of innocents. Perhaps the portrayal of a pony-like, yet eerily different, visage provides the impetus for stories so shocking that they disturb the most rational of minds.

In the oldest tales, the fiends—a race of devilish shape shifters—inhabit rivers and lakes, and transform themselves to resemble the ponies in surrounding villages. An eternally dripping mane is the only telltale sign of their true form. Once disguised, they entice foals to play, offering merry rides upon their backs. The poor wretches who accept the invitation find themselves trapped on adhesive skin, then dragged into the water where they are mercilessly devoured.

These horrific old-mare's tales were likely devised as a cruel, but effective, method of discouraging little ones from playing near dangerous waters. Certainly no hard evidence exists, ancient or modern, that these beings were more than stories, yet alone beasts of a cannibalistic nature.

Stories dating from the last three or four centuries, while less visceral, still portray creatures of equally malignant desires. These sea ponies, for now they inhabit the seas rather than fresh water, are the scourge of the mariner, luring them and their ships to doom. In these fantastic tales, mares of great beauty inhabit rocks and craggy shorelines, lounging and singing seductively. Their haunting songs entice the ship's crew to sail close to the hazards, and those sailors not fortunate enough to drown find themselves transformed into mindless slaves serving their aquatic masters.

These stories too could be dismissed as cautionary tales, except for the frequency of astonishingly consistent and reliable historical documentation from shipwreck survivors. While nothing credible has surfaced in several decades, for hundreds of years authorities received regular reports of sea pony sightings from earnest sailors across Equestria.

Modern scholars dismiss these reports as hallucinations of traumatized wreck survivors or the confused sightings of other wildlife such as sea-lions.

It began as a twitch in the corner of her mouth. She tried to suppress it, but it continued to spread into a smile. Next the smile progressed to a chuckle. There was no point in holding back when the chuckling became a guffaw. Twilight snorted and rolled on the floor laughing. The idea of mariners confusing sea-lions for beautiful mares was simply too preposterous! Eventually, the attack subsided to a chortle, and she breathed deeply.

Barking marine mammals as beautiful pony sirens! She made barking noises, and sent herself into another fit of laughter.

Finally, she regained her composure and wiped a tear from her eye.

I needed a laugh—very therapeutic. Oh, my, those desperate stallions so long at sea they can't tell a seal from a mare.

Or was it a sea-lion? She rolled over and checked the text: it was sea-lion.

Right, right, she thought. There's a colony of them near Manehatten. Last year, Fluttershy showed me an article in the newspaper about some group helping orphaned seal, uh, I mean sea-lion, pups.

“Seals or sea-lions, what's the difference,” she dismissed the mistake. Her thoughts froze for a moment and she stared blankly at the ceiling.

Yeah, what exactly is the difference?

~~~

Rarity rotated the triangular crystal column in front of her, trying to catch a bit of moonlight in it. Even in the faint light, the alternating layers of pink and green were unmistakably present, and she found them quite fascinating.

“Tell me Spike, what exactly does tourmaline taste like?”

“Umm, ith wery sweep.” His mouth watered with one of the many samples they had collected.

“Do take it out of your mouth before you speak, dear, it's rather rude.”

“Oh, sorry.” He gave the delicious crystal a final lick after removing it from his mouth. “When they're young like this they're so sweet!”

“And they don't taste like watermelon at all?”

“No, more like strawberries mixed with cherries, plus extra sugar.” He drooled in delight. “Then you can ripen them in fire—”

“You don't say.”

“—and they taste sweet and spicy!”

“Hmmm,” she mused, “and to think I planned to make mine into wind chimes.” She returned the crystal to her saddlebags. “If I make wind chimes do you promise not to eat them?”

“It'll be hard, but I'll try.” Spike continued licking the mineral candy as they approached the library.

“Oh look,” Rarity said, “she left a light for you. How considerate of her.”

“Huh, she also forgot to take the sign in,” Spike observed when they reached the front door. He put the tourmaline back in his mouth, freeing his hands so he could remove the sign from the door.

“Well now,” Rarity began with a coy smile, “although it's traditional for a gentlecolt to walk the lady to her door after a date—”

“Ah wapth?”

“—because of the lateness of the hour, I won't insist. I'll just say goodnight here.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for a fabulous day.” She giggled softly as she turned and walked away.

Spike stood hypnotized, watching her trot off in the glow of the moonlight. He remained motionless, transfixed by her beauty, till she disappeared into the night.

“Ahm da wukiesth dwagon awive.” He shook his head briskly, then stuck the sign under his arm and opened the door. Inside, a stub of a candle burned on Twilight's writing desk. Spike quietly closed the door and stowed the sign. Next, he removed his backpack of delicious gems and placed it aside, but not before giving it a loving pat.

Fatigue from the day's activities caught up with him, and he stretched out his arms and yawned. His eyelids drooped as he walked towards the burning candle on the desk. In the darkness, his toe discovered something large and heavy. He grunted and spat out the rod of tourmaline. It clattered and broke.

“What the—Twilight,” he whispered as he picked up the book.

“Thermodynamics for The Novice?” He covered his eyes. “Maybe I better not look.”

But Spike did look, and, in the darkness, he saw a floor littered with books. He picked up the one nearest to him, entitled The Equestrian Book of Seamanship.

He methodically cleared a path to the desk. Some books were open, others had pages marked with bits of torn paper, but all followed a distinct pattern: None seemed to have anything to do with the topic of Twilight's research paper.

Simple Meals for the Single Mare lay buried beneath Avant-Garde in the Visual Arts, while he found Newly Revised Rules of Procedure face down on top of a well-worn copy of Astronomical Observations of The Ancients. On the writing desk, next to a partially filled scroll and some hastily scribbled note cards, lay Cultivating Carnivorous Plants. He frowned.

“Well, at least that one was close,” Spike muttered. He placed his armful of books on the table and reached for the flickering candle. From behind him came a murmur, followed by the sound of a pile of books slowly sliding over. He turned and took an uncertain step into the center of the room.

In the middle of the library Twilight Sparkle lay asleep in a nest of books, her head resting in the last step of her journey through the library's contents.

“Not again,” Spike sighed. He made his way upstairs to their shared bedroom, all the while shaking his head and muttering under his breath. After placing the candle on the nightstand, he folded up her star and moon decorated blue comforter.

Tossing it over his shoulder, he headed back downstairs, holding the candle up high to light his path. The large bundle dragged on the steps behind him despite his best efforts. Once on the first floor, the jumble of books made his job of transporting the comforter slow and difficult.

Spike wound his way to where she lay sleeping. He unfolded the comforter, making sure not to knock over any books lurking in the dark, and carefully draped it over her. As he tucked in the edges, she instinctively curled up, wrapping it around herself. She made a sound somewhere between a mumble and a sigh, then closed her mouth and smiled.

He gave her head a light pat and said, “Goodnight, you, you…” He covered his yawning mouth before he could find the right word. “Don't worry, we'll get this sorted out in the morning.”

“But later,” he said as he put his hands on his hips, “we're going to have a long talk.”