Silver Tongue

by Nonnavlis

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 1789

When Mayor Fetlock visits her school, young Silver Tongue knows exactly what she wants to be.

When Mayor Fetlock visits her school, young Silver Tongue knows exactly what she wants to be…

A very brief story that examines what Mayor Mare may have been like as a filly, and how she came to be known as Mayor Mare.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-18 05:20:02 UTC

The First Female Mayor of Ponyville

The echoing creak of town hall’s doors opening pulled me from the pile of documents upon my desk. Curious to see who had decided to visit the establishment in the middle of the afternoon, I made my way to my office door- which was ever so slightly ajar- and peeked out into the large, nearly empty room. A tiny, tan-coloured filly with a silver mane was standing in the doorway, staring out across the rows of cushions. Her gaze stopped suddenly, fixed upon the podium at the end of the room, from where I directed all of the town meetings. Her tiny hooffalls echoed like heavy drumbeats as she stepped daintily across the marble floor, climbed up onto the stage, and stood behind the podium. There, she shivered- seemingly from nerves- before rising unsteadily onto her back legs and bracing her forehooves against the podium. Her head just barely peeked over the top.

For a long time now, ever since the current mayor of Ponyville, Mayor Fetlock, had come to speak at her school, the young filly, Silver Tongue, had wanted to become just like him. She wanted to be able to speak as loudly, clearly and confidently as he did. To be able to sway people with only her words.

She wanted to be mayor.

There was only one problem with this: Silver Tongue barely ever spoke a word. The young colts and fillies at the Ponyville grade school were always teasing her, with childish phrases such as “What’s the problem, Silver? Cat got your Tongue?” or “They should have called you Silver No Tongue.” Silver Tongue never said anything in reply to their remarks; she was to shy.

But this was her chance. No one was around to see her, to hear how unsteady her voice was or to judge her choices in words. It was only she, the podium, and a sea of empty cushions. At least, as far she knew. Still, fear panged in her tiny filly heart, and she swallowed roughly, her tan knees shaking with nerves. She opened her muzzle to speak, but all that came out was a whimper. Tucking her chin against her neck in embarrassment, she took a few deep breaths, and tried again.

“C-c-citizens of- P-pony-v-ville,” she stammered. “I-if you elect me as m-mayor, I... I want you to... to know that I will n-not only be your mayor, b-but also a friend. Your h-hopes will be... th-they will be m-my hopes, your d-d-dreams will... be my dreams! With your support behind me, I... I believe I can be the best mayor that Ponyville has ever had!”

Her speech moved me. I could sense her desire, her dedication. Instinctively, I stamped my hooves upon the ground in applause. She gasped, tumbling backwards with an “Oof!” of exclamation. As she righted herself, she met my gaze with large blue eyes.

“M-mayor F-f-fetlock!” she squeaked. “I’m sorry!”

“No, don’t be sorry!” I quickly assured, trotting to her side. “I was moved. It was a beautiful speech.”

She blushed, head down, looking up at me through her forelock.

“I remember you,” I said. “From the Ponyville grade school. Out of all the children in class, you were the one who seemed the most riveted.” Remembering the age of whom I was speaking to, I quickly added “The one paying the most attention.”

She nodded softly.

“Do you want to be the mayor when you grow up?” I asked.

Another nod, eager this time. I smiled.

“I’m glad,” I said. “I’m sure you’d be good at it.”

This time she sighed, shaking her head back and forth in that slightly too fast way foals always seemed to.

“I... I can’t... t-talk to other ponies...” she said, her voice barely a whisper, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes.

I was reminded of myself as a young colt. I had struggled with speaking to others back then as well. Looking both ways to imply a secret, I brought my head down to her level, and spoke in a whisper.

“Let me let you in on a little secret,” I said. “When I was your age, even when I was much older than you, I had a very hard time talking to others.”

Her blue eyes went wide, tiny muzzle hanging open. I had to chuckle at her childish wonderment.

“Surprised?” I asked. “It’s true, I promise. It took a lot of courage and dedication to get where I am today. But it was worth the effort I think.” After a pause of thought, I added “What’s your name, young filly?”

“S-s-silver T-tongue...” she stammered.

“Well, Silver Tongue, I think I may have a proposal for you. Do you have time after school?”

She nodded again.

“Then what would you think about having me help you with your public speaking?” I asked. “We could spend some time together on... Mondays and Thursdays.”

I watched her mull over my proposal for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“If you don’t think it’s right for you, we can always stop,” I suggested. And so with a shy nod of her head, Silver Tongue agreed to be my pupil.

Next Monday, Silver Tongue appeared quietly in the doorway of my office just after three.

“Well, good afternoon, Silver Tongue,” I greeted.

“G-good Af-t-t-ternoon, M-mayor F-f-fetlock,” she replied with a soft nod.

“I just have to finish this,” I said, motioning to a paper on my desk. “I hope you won’t mind.”

She shook her head, settling on the sofa against one of my office walls, patiently waiting till I was done. Then, we headed from my office into town hall’s... well, hall.

I started our lessons by finding a box. If Silver Tongue was going to practice her public speaking, she should at least be able to see over the podium without adding “balance” to the list of things against her.

“Now, when you face your audience, you want to stand straight and tall,” I advised. “Never let them know you are nervous. If they believe in you, it will help you to believe in yourself as well. If you can, find a familiar face in the crowd for support.”

I stepped from the platform to saunter casually toward the aisles of cushions, still instructing her as I moved away.

“Always avoid making nonsensical sounds to give yourself time to think,” I remarked. “One should never say uhm, ah, er, and likewise. If you need to pause and think, do so in silence.”

I settled on a cushion halfway across the room, my eyes fixed on Silver Tongue’s flushed face.

“Look over to me,” I advised. “Meet my gaze with confidence. Avoid your natural instinct to look away from others. Once you’re comfortable, I want you to introduce yourself.”

Silver Tongue nodded, meeting my gaze. She shook herself, took a few deep breaths, opened her muzzle, and...

...Couldn’t manage more than a word.

“M-m-m-my...” She flushed bright red, shrinking back, head against her neck.

“That’s alright!” I called to her quickly, not wanting her to feel like she was failing. “Even if you stammer a hundred times, just keep going!”

Repeating her little routine for banishing her nerves, she tried again.

“M-m-m-my n-name is S-s-silver T...” she trailed off.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, rising to come to her side.

“I... I d-don’t l-like my name...” she said softly. “T-the other f-f-foals al-w-ways t-tease me.”

“Hmm...” I paused in thought. “How about this?” I proposed. “For the sake of our lessons, you could be Mayor Mare. Take on the role of who you want to be when you grow up, instead of who you are now.”

She seemed almost to glow at my suggestion, quickly nodding her head.

“Then henceforth- I mean, from now on- I dub you Mayor Mare, first female mayor of Ponyville.” I tapped her shoulder to finish the ceremony, and for the first time, she smiled back at me.

“Now then, impress me, Mayor Mare,” I remarked, returning to the sea of cushions. She looked up at me, then down to the podium, muttering to herself under her breath. I couldn’t hear the words, but the motions of her lips were all I needed.

“I am Mayor Mare, first female Mayor of Ponyville, and I’m going to be the best mayor yet...” she whispered. She stared up, straightening her back and meeting my gaze head on. She seemed to have suddenly gained a sense of confidence in her new role.

“I am M-Mayor Mare,” she said. There was barely a stammer in her voice, which was the loudest and clearest I had yet to hear it.

“Again!” I encouraged.

“I a-am Mayor Mare.”

“Again!”

“I am Mayor Mare.”

“Again!”

“I am Mayor Mare!” She stared at me with a look that almost dared me to ask her to repeat that phrase once more.

“Good job, Mayor!” I praised. I returned to her side, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “That confidence that you had just now, as Mayor Mare, is always with you,” I told her.

“I-it’s not the same,” she stammered. “Mayor M-mare is a character.”

“But she’s a character you can draw on at any time, in any place. Confidence is a character.” I grinned at her. “That being said, there’s a lot more to being Mayor than stating it. You better be here on Thursday.” I trotted away from her again.

“Why should I vote for you, Mayor?” I called over my shoulder. I glanced back at her, and was met with a smile.

-----------------♡-----------------

Mayor Mare sighed, pacing the length of her office. Any moment now she would be called on stage to deliver a speech. Though she’d done it more times than she could recount, nerves still chewed at her till the last second every time. She shook herself, took a few deep breaths, and fixed her sparkling blue eyes on a photograph on the wall, muttering to herself under her breath.

“I am Mayor Mare,” she said. “First female Mayor of Ponyville, and asides for you, Fetlock, the best Mayor Ponyville has yet to see.” With one tanned hoof she straightened her cravat, turning towards the door as it was pushed open by her assistant, Purple Prose, a teenaged filly who had just recently decided she too wanted to be Mayor when she grew up.

“You’re on, Mayor,” she said. “And I should tell you, Fetlock’s here.”

Mayor Mare’s back straightened, her eyes bright.

“That old coot,” she remarked. “Still grading me after all these years.” She smiled broadly, turning to her lavender-coloured companion. “Listen well, Purple Prose,” she advised. “This will be one of my best speeches yet.”