A Friendship is a Kind of Magic

It turns out that Fluttershy’s waking schedule starts at five thirty in the morning. Twilight silently laments this fact, praising the good coffee her hostess served for the breakfeast.

Rise with the rooster. I didn’t think she meant it literally.

It does help on the mood that being around Fluttershy makes little worries go away, an effect which seems to be active even when the mare is asleep. Twilight slept exceptionally well, even if she was awoken three hours before her regular waking time.

Spike is walking — as opposed to riding on Twilight’s back — with a spring in his step and humming a tune, albeit off-key.

But really, the good feels are dying out as the approach the golden oak library. It is going to be a rough day.

Once inside, Twilight finds an old alarm clock and rigs it to go off half past noon. No point in forgetting lunch two days in a row.

“Spike, take a letter, and afterwards a list.”

“Yes, Twi.”

She dictates — while surveying the mess of the library once again — and he writes:

Dear Mom and Dad.

I am writing to you to tell you that I have come to Ponyville unharmed, and by my own stubborn love of libraries, I have been promoted to — or rather, I have dethroned — the head librarian.

The whole place is a mess and I have really gotten work cut out for me.

On another note, I think I have made a friend. The local vetenarian ran into Spike while I was forgetting all about him and took him for lunch. Then because the living space in the library is a similar mess, she let us stay at her cottage.

She is probably the nicest pony I have ever met.

All is well, your loving daughter Twilight.

“Send it.”

Spike seals the envelope and huffs a flame at it, then takes out the cheaper paper. “The list then?”

Twilight clears her throat, “first item: move all the junk in the apartment outside.

“Second item: clean, tidy, etc. make the place habitable.

“Third item: take inventory of everything...”

“And that is about it.”

Spike puts the quill back in the inkwell and hands the list over for Twilight to peruse. She walks up to the big bulletin and pins it in the middle of it.

As a magical flourish, Twilight then forces an evocative enchantment on the bulletin — hasty work, only lasts for a few hours — of big glowing letters saying ‘TO DO.’

“Okay, Spike, run an errand for me: Go to that store Detergents and Pottery and buy citric acid, detergent and soft soap. Also some washcloths would be nice,” Twilight says as she begins searching for the janitors closet.

Spike dutifully fetches the money purse from Twilight’s saddlebag and starts counting out some bits.

“Oh, and see if you can find a mop —” Twilight calls out, having found the janitors closet; the mop has all but been eaten by moths “— and a bucket,” she says, looking through the hole in bottom of the old and rusty tin bucket.

“Do you want me to put the closed sign up?” Spike calls back.

“Yeah, do that,” Twilight replies and binds a kerchief over her muzzle, to filter out the dust. Thank Celestia i am not afraid of spiders, she thinks and opens the door to the apartment.

There are several different kinds of messes. There is the kind you find in a teenager’s bedroom — clothes, papers and personal effects scattered about on every flat surface, — the kind you find in a storage room of a busy workshop — broken tools, boxes of junk, half finished hobby projects, binders of manuals, — and the kind you find in a miskept archive room — boxes and boxes of files and papers, — to name a few.

This is one of the worse kinds of messes. There are files and books in boxes, stains on the floors and panelling, piles of unrelated junk — was that water pipe over there in the corner? — empty bottles, dried up perishables, a stale smell in the air and cobwebs and dust absolutely everywhere.

“Oh horseapples, that idiot held parties in here.”

It is quite a sight from the street. Dust flies from open windows in the east wing of the golden oak, and occasionally Twilight exits carrying various boxes and bags, wearing a kerchief over her muzzle and hair.

It all abruptly stops at noon, when Spike can be seen returning with takeout, and picks up about an hour later.

The rumour mill of ponyville works surprisingly fast — with no small credit to Pinkie Pie — and the talk of the town is the new librarian from Canterlot who threatened Major Mare into firing her oaf of a second cousin.

Twilight hears the door bell jingle. I thought I left the door open — and that sign should clearly indicate that we’re not open for business.

She goes back into the main room of the library, and is greeted by a sky-blue pegasus mare — clearly in excellent physical shape, about Twilights age — with something as novel as rainbow mane and tail.

“We’re not open for business today, can I help you with anything?”

The blue pegasus hefts off her saddlebags. “Yeah, I had some library books lying about which were way overdue, and I just wanted to get them out of the way or something. I don’t know when I might remember otherwise.”

Twilight is slightly bothered by this mare’s blatant disregard for proper opening hours and her own convenience and glances at the top book in the open saddlebag: Daring Do and the Trek to the Terrifying Tower.

“Are you a fan of Daring Do?”

The pegasus scrapes the floor with a hoof. “She’s kinda cool — not as cool as myself — but it is not like I spend all of my time reading them or something.”

Twilight picks the books out of the saddlebags. There’s seven of them in all, exclusively from the Daring Do series. They are all pretty well worn from reading. Yeah, right.

“It’s nice to see someone liking my mother’s work,” Twilight says, well aware of the off-hoof namedropping.

“No way. You’re the daughter of Twilight Velvet?”

“Yes way. Guilty as charged.”

The blue pegasus all but hyperventilates, “ohmaker ohmaker ohmakerohmaker!” — she does a loop in the air in excitement — “I am talking to Twilight Velvet’s daughter!”

Twilight knows that it is cheap to be scoring points with local ponies in this manner. But then again it is rather nice to have somepony react appropriately to namedropping famous ponies in ones inner circles.

“Where’s my manners. I’m Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow Dash says and holds out a hoof.

This time it is Twilight’s turn to go wide eyed. She distinctly remembers that article in the Equestrian Records Encyclopedia.

“The Rainbow Dash, born in cloudsdale, only living pony to break the sound barrier?”

“Yeah that’s me,” Dash says beaming with pride.

“Wow, how old were you when you did it?”

“Five years old. It’s how I got my cutiemark!” She triumphantly juts her behind in the air, showing off the chromatic lighting bolt.

“That’s odd. Did you know I got my cutiemark that day too? I investigated it some years later, that rainbow effect you got was quite the talk for a few years in the academic fields — especially evocation and the atmospheric sciences...” Twilight stops herself, “I’m sorry, now I am forgetting my manners, I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

“Awesome to meet you Twilight —” Dash glances over at the stack of Daring Do books “— so, umm...”

“What is it?”

“It’s just... It’s kinda embarrasing for me to like reading. Lot of ponies expect you to be a buff athlete and then not a bookworm,” Dash says looking apprehensive.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Twilight replies with a wink.

“Thanks, Twilight. You’re pretty cool for a librarian.”

“Oh, I am just a public servant,” Twilight says with mock modesty, “I am just doing my job.”

Dash casually looks at the disheveled books strewn about and the dust in Twilight’s coat, “so, you’re... Renovating?”

“It is not like the previous librarian did any work. I am in over my head here to be honest,” Twilight gives a sigh.

“Know what? All that junk out in the front? I can totally get you some help with that.”

“Oh?” This piques Twilights interest.

“Yeah, first of all, set up an ‘up for grabs’ sign. The more stuff ponies take, the less you have to drag away. Second, I’ll help you out. The faster you get this library spiffy, the faster you can order the rest of the Daring Do series, right?” Dash says with pleading enthusiasm.

“Dash, I’ll get you the autographed box set. That way other ponies can borrow them too,” Twilight gives a wry smile.

Dash all but falls over, “you would?”

“I don’t go back on my word, my mother will be happy to know I met an avid fan.”

“Oh maker! I better get started helping then!” Dash says and rushes out the door.

“Spike!?” Twilight calls out, “go make sure she doesn’t misfile the garbage, would you?”

When Twilight at last deems her work done, she is tired and hungry. Rainbow Dash whipped up some commotion about the ‘get free junkstuff’ and with Spike’s direction hauled away the majority of the refuge. Cleaning the living quarters required a full scrub-down of just about every surface.

Scrubbing everything tends to make oneself dirtier for the effort, and after a quick shower — Rainbow Dash being able to make it home, shower and back to the library in that time — the trio head out for dinner.

“You just let Spike ride around on your back?”

“Yeah, he’s heavy enough for it to be a little exercise, but light enough to not be tiring, besides he has the equivalent stamina of a small foal.”

“Don’t rub it in Twi,” Spike comments.

“It’s the stubby legs!” Twilight stage whispers to Rainbow Dash, who chuckles.

“Hey, if I follow the growth prognosis, you can ride around on my back in a few years,” Spike retorts. They all laugh.

“So spike, do you ever think you’ll grow wings?” Rainbow Dash asks.

“No, actually I don’t think I will, Twi?”

“His subspecies is amphibian —” noticing Dash’s incomprehension she adds “— Land and water.”

“Like a crocodile?”

Spike nods proudly.

“Crocodiles are cool,” Dash nods in agreement, and waves at a passing Pinkie Pie.

“You know Pinkie Pie?” Twilight asks.

“Yeah, we’re good friends, she knows how to pull a good prank.”

“Hey, Rainbow Dash, why are we leaving the town to find dinner?” Spike asks.

“We’re going over to Sweet Apple Acres, the owner Applejack is a good friend of mine, she invited us for dinner.”

I hope the food is good, Twilight thinks as the farmhouse comes into view.