The Tale of Lady Hoofwise

You might imagine watching my home town fade into the distance would stir some emotion in me. It did. A feeling of absolute triumph and freedom radiated from my skin as that ramshackle eyesore left my view;  giving way to a rolling expanse of green. I let my  back hooves trail over the edge of the cart, each bump in the road, jolting me, but I was past caring.

  The cart  was surprisingly large, like a train carriage, only road worthy.I wondered why, since we were the only two.The majority of the inside was separated by a curtain, my new friend had shown me. It was lined with a countless number of costumes masks of Tragedy and Comedy along with: coloured masks, tribal masks, scary masks and funny masks. Oh, and wigs, can't forget the wigs, ranging from a toupee, to a grandly tiered mass. Turns out my friend was an impressionist, I would never have guessed.

His name was Max, or rather, that was the stage name he'd taken for his series of sketches. Max's Masquerade He had said proudly, trailing his hooves in the air, while waggling his eyebrows. I'm not sure he knew what a masquerade was, but I laughed anyway. He stood beside me, holding the canvas of the roof, smiling. He always smiled as if the whole world were one big joke no one else was in on.

He was roughly twenty, wore his mane close cropped, (it helped with the masks) and had such a myriad of makeup stains I found it hard to discern his original colour. Although, patches of silvery gray shined defiantly against the encroaching muck. His mane was a shining black, I imagined it would look good long, but I never got to see it that way

He caught me staring and his smile grew all the wider.

"You sure running away was the best thing to do? This isn't like the stories. You could jump off now and be back home before long."

I rolled my eyes and punched him lightly. he laughed  "I'll take that as a no then."

His grin was infectious and I put on an accent. "Indeed good sir."

He laughed all the more before making a mock bow and with an accent of his own said:

"Would M'lady require anything else? Silken bedsheets, some reading matter perhaps?"

I couldn't stifle my laughter and the farmer passing by on the dirt track looked bemused.

Blushing and holding my hooves to my mouth, only set Max off more. I began to snort, struggling for breath. The remainder of our journey passed in much the same way, each of us putting on accents more ridiculous than the last. In short, I was happy.

The convoy came to a stop in an area of dirt and dust; a few defiant weeds poked out in challenge. However, this area was ringed by green, marking this natural boundary. It did unsettle me a little, but that soon changed.

Some unspoken word of command saw it come alive. Ponies leapt from their carts, hooves full of fabrics and ropes and boards, it was amazing. I saw the stands, the housing, the side attractions all spring up before my eyes; some  shared mental map coordinating the effort.

I stood, transfixed before I was attacked by the bundle Max had thrown; I fumbled to catch it. he smirked at the death glare I shot him. "Come on then!" he called cheerfully as he set off with his own bundle. While he managed to artfully dodge the press of rushing ponies, I didn't find it so easy; my bundle being knocked to and fro and becoming well acquainted with somepony's face as I later found out.

Having battled through the throng to the grinning Max; my mane billowing about my face and my chest rhythmically contorting with each laboured breath. I dropped my bundle, believing I was done; not so.

"Now," He said in a tone struggling to be even: "we raise the stand."  I gave an exasperated sigh ,which made him burst into laughter.

  I soon discovered how useless I was at practical work; I could raise the planks well enough, but connecting them with nails? That required a greater skill, or so I told myself as Max watched my efforts with an amused eye. "Are you going to stand there gawping, or help me?" I said, irritated; my hooves splayed in front of me, before I returned to my labour with a cross shake of my head. He did come and help me in the end; I imagine more out of fear for the guests, than as a gentlemanly gesture.

Upon completion, sweat pouring from my brow, I stood with my head held high and my chest puffed.

"Not bad, wouldn't you say?" I said, turning to Max.

   In a droning voice he replied "Of course Ma'am" then scuttled away, as I sent a block of wood in his direction.

I was left to guard my creation as Max left to help with raising the main pavillion. Although it was now late in the evening, the whole action was illuminated by torches; a great red and white centrepiece rising from a deflated mass of fabric. It was an impressive sight, sure to attract the multitudes.

Nothing remained of the original area I described, sawdust craftily covering the desolation beneath. It was a fantastic transformation; the locals must've been ever so grateful.

With the pavillion erected, everypony began milling toward the cart park. I stood there, waiting for Max, who ushered me along a minute or so later. I walked beside him, looking around with nervous eyes. A few ponies gave me curious glances, but soon averted them, talking with their friends.

Escaping the row of brightly coloured tents and skirting the deviously placed tent pegs, we came into an open area. A large number of tables had been dotted around, each one encircling the long and grand central table. Many ponies were already there, chatting happily. For the first time I felt nervous, unconsciously moving closer to Max, the only friendly face in this sea of strangers.

While I was still looking around, we moved closer to the central table. I wasn't aware of this until I noticed that the crowd had melted away.

"What have we here?" Came a deep, smooth voice.

My eyes snapped forward to behold the speaker. He had an obscenely large waxed mustache, that gave his nose a bird like look. laughing hazel eyes, corresponding with his fur. White trousers, with a red coat-tailed jacket with gleaming brass buttons and a pair of shiny black boots. I knew I was in the presence of the Ringmaster. My mouth worked soundlessly, so Max filled the silence, telling him my name and where I'd come from.

His brow furrowed. "I see."  after a pause he said "Max has treated you well, I trust?" I caught the unasked question in his tone. Was I Max's whore? I replied that he had treated me well and I was excited to be part of Circus life.

That seemed to satisfy him as, in front of the hushed onlookers he embraced me and with a happy chuckle, he said.

"Welcome Hope! We're always glad of new arrivals, aren't we?"

He addressed the last part to the crowd, who unanimously cried

"Yes!"

I was shocked by his hug, but I managed a smile.

"Thank you so much!"  I said for all to hear.

He released me and with a glinting eye said "You'll dine at my table tonight, you too Max."

I was beaming by the time i'd sat down and those I caught the eye of, beamed too. The table was covered in a patchwork cloth, the bowls were an assortment of crockery and wood, while the forks were mostly metal. It didn't bother me, I just noticed the contrast. I swear, I laughed more that night, than I had for the last five years at home.

Later on, the chairs were moved to one side and instruments were brought out, everypony danced. I went from face to face, beaming and joking. I danced with Max awhile too, before the Ringmaster seized my hoof for an impromptu waltz. He was surprisingly lithe and seemed to take great pleasure in my being able to match him move for move. At the end I gave an amused curtsey, although without a dress. He good naturedly bowed, with theatrical flourish, then we parted.

After that night, the real work began. I was paired with Max when my skill with acting was noted. At first I was on once or twice, then as they grew more confident in my ability I featured more, until it became a twopony show. I never had my name added to the title though, didn't really fit.

I could regale you for many a page of the fun I had over those three years, but I'll stick with my favorite moment. We'd moved to a town a few miles from Canterlot and we had a group of schoolkids present. Max and I were dressed as knights, my face covered by a 'visor'. A few painted bits of metal and a plume seemed enough to convince them. Max paraded around the sawdust covered arena, coming close to the barrier. He took on an aloof and sneery tone, boasting of his ability. Soon enough, they started booing and throwing their popcorn, before I made my entrance.

"If you're so great, fight me!" I had cried, my voice  muffled by the visor,  wooden sword brandished.

We clashed and I swatted him a few times, soon enough he leapt the barrier, running into the crowd and I pursued. "I yield! I yield!" He shrieked, provoking guffaws from the children. He returned to the centre before collapsing. In a pathetic tone he said. "Good sir, you are far greater than I, let me look upon my superior" He kissed my hooves, mewling pathetically, which they loved.

"I am no sir," I said, removing my helm "I am a Mare!" he shrank back and the children hooted, cheering me.

I grinned, bowing and Max struggled not to. He stood up and paced the sands. "I could still beat all of you; so, be quiet!" A chorus of boos sounded.

I said "Oh yeah? Let's see. I'll need a volunteer." They all looked eager, although one filly practically leapt the barrier, so I chose her. She took my sword and stared Max down with a vehemence born of belief. I stifled a laugh as Max twirled his weapon.

"Alright now, let's not be too has-" She charged, smacking him ferociously. He fell.

"No more! No more!"

I came over to her and raised her sword hoof. "Champion!" Their cheers reached a crescendo and Max got up, laughing. We sat her on our shoulders and made a lap of honor. The filly held the sword high.Max and I shared a glance, grinning stupidly. We returned her to her place, minus the sword. Her classmates received her with joy. We bowed and exited, both of us similarly affected.

Next came the Ringmaster and his partner Miriam. I forgot to mention before, but he took part in the act. He was a trapeze artist. While she wowed the audience with her grace and sleekness. He awed with his energy, his form twitching like that of a predatory animal; It was a sight to see.

Despite our close relationship, Max and I were never a couple, despite what ponies thought. There was an attraction, but neither of us acted on it. Three years passed by, before I seriously considered it. Then, It was all too late.

I don't know why Max was dismantling the trapeze that day, perhaps I'll never know. I was in our shared 'dressing room' washing the makeup from my face, when I heard the clamor outside. I rushed out and asked what'd happened and somepony turned "Max has been hurt!" they said, before rushing off towards the pavillion. My heart turned to ice, I was in too much shock to cry. I just remember saying "Please be ok" over and over, like some protective mantra as I made my way there. A crowd had gathered in the ring and I pushed past them.

.

Max, my dearest friend, was dead. His neck was at an odd angle, broken by the fall. Mercifully someone had closed his eyes. First I remember trembling, then sobbing, then weeping unashamedly. Others were similarly affected, but for me it was worse. Many stood by me, but the Ringmaster himself, came through the crowd to hold me. I cried into his chest as they bore Max away. That mocking grin still fixed on his face in death. Having held the Ringmaster for some time, I pulled back. "Thank you" I murmured. He looked at me so piteously, I had to turn away. Before I knew it, I was back in our dressing room. Except, it wasn't ours anymore.

Everything I looked at reminded me of him. I sat, in state among the costumes, wallowing in misery. The others couldn't rouse me, no matter what they tried. Until one day, Stan, dear Stan, knocked. "Sir wants to see if you're alright." Sir was our alternate name for the Ringmaster, it was more of a joke than a sign of respect.  I ignored him, lost in bitter memory.

"I'm coming in" he'd said. "Alright?" I didn't reply.

He entered, his muscular bulk barely fitting through the doorway. When he saw me, he sighed and picked me up. For a strongman he was surprisingly gentle. he murmured soothing things and I clung to him. "It's alright love, it's alright" He lifted me with ease and carried me outside.

Others were waiting, with solemn faces. They gave meaningless words of commiseration. as he carried me past them. I blinked at the usually happy sights of the stands, not feeling anything. I hadn't wanted to move from my place, but I hadn't resisted either. We came to the Ringmaster's tent; Stan bowed under the entrance and set me inside. He left soon after I believe.

I'd never been in his tent before, at any other time I might've eyed the polished oak desk or the canvas bed with more interest. He came over, his face displaying his sympathy. "Hope, my dear Hope." He said, hugging me  with wordless feeling. Whether it was the seclusion, or his concern, I don't know, but I cried again. He felt my body shudder and pulled back.

"I can't imagine what you've been through" he'd said in that deep, soothing voice. I made no reply, but to cry more. I am unsure if it was I or he who started what happened next. In either event, we kissed. After some time I pushed at his chest, to break it, but that didn't happen. Somehow, we'd turned around and I was knocked against his desk. Unable to break the contact, I continued, my tears still falling. Eventually he relented and I sat on his desk, feeling all the worse for it. It was not that I disliked him, in fact, quite the opposite; but now, so soon after Max... it felt disloyal.

He then began spouting these words of love and adoration. I sucked them up dumbly, but managed to murmur "I like you too."  I only meant it to show my interest, not instigate what happened next.  With my apparent acceptance he leapt at me with a new energy. I beat at him to stop, feeble as I was but that didn't deter him. He pressed me further until I realised his intent. I was powerless to stop him as he took me, I screamed and I moaned, but to no avail.He seemed to delight in exploring my body and forcing  me to endure this humiliation.

I tried to fight, but in the end my body betrayed me. He had forced me to the bed by that stage and once he was done, rolled off and held me. I couldn't shake him, so I lay there; my innocence lost and my body sore.