Tales of the Tutelary Spirits

by Whateverdudezb

Rating: everyone
Tags: Main 6, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Adventure
Length: 14192

Short stories and snippets from the Tutelary Spirit universe.

Part of the Tutelary Spirit universe.
Main installments: Loyalty, Honesty, Generosity, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship.
Minor installments: Living Forever, Tales of the Tutelary Spirits, The Guardian of the Elements.

Tales of the Tutelary Spirits is a growing collection of short stories centered around the actions, deeds, and exploits of the Mares of Harmony throughout their many lifetimes.

Warning: some stories may contain embellishment of events.

Cover image belongs to flamevulture17.

Published 2015-01-17 20:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-09 23:16:15 UTC

Loyalty's Curse

Author's Note

So it's been more than a month since I've last published or updated anything, and while I have been working on the next installment of the Tutelary Spirit universe constantly since then (which, by the way, I've decided to just do away with the mystery and reveal the order of releases), I've nonetheless felt that my account here has been acting too much like a dry faucet and decided to spend a couple afternoons to quickly dish this one out for you guys. You know, just to let you guys know I'm still alive.

Tales of the Tutelary Spirits is something that I have been planning on doing for awhile now. Because as I write the main installments and as I develop the mythos for this universe, I can't help but have these little cool story ideas about the world and the Mares of Harmony pop into my head before inevitably getting shelved because I can't fit them into any installment or personally justify having them as their own independent story.

So here's Tales of the Tutelary Spirits, which I'll probably only update whenever I think a main installment is taking too long. Which will probably be pretty often, so... good news for you guys?

Loyalty's Curse

In a hamlet little village located between the mountains of Somewhere and the valleys of Wherever, ponies suffered greatly from two terrible, moving voices that plagued their little village with bombastic tones, haughty opinions, poisonous insults, and scathing arguments that pulled painfully against the ears of the local ponies. None of these burning weapons were intended for the residents of the quaint village though—no, they were only unnecessary casualties brought on by the unskilled use of such hazardous weaponry in the furious battle of words between the two terrible voices that fought in their village.

Since many ponies have explored throughout and beyond the lands of Equestria, and had yet to discover any disembodied voices that, at least, did not identify themselves as invisible ghosts meant that these two flaming voices had to belong to two very irritable ponies.

And they did.

One voice belonged to a pegasus stallion, who had been nicknamed Hammer by the local villagers due to being coated brown like the wooden handle of said tool, and for his tenacity to hammer in his opinions into any conversation. The other belonged to an earth pony mare, nicknamed Anvil for her iron-like coat and large build, along with her stubbornness against accepting any opinions that were not her own.

And they fought. Oh, how they fought and argued against each other with such a ferocity to quake and tremble the poor little village. Whatever brief tranquility that this village would ever manage to scrounge together would always eventually get shattered by Hammer's harsh outbursts and Anvil's ruthless retorts that echoed throughout the village streets.

It did not matter that both lived on opposite sides of the village, as all it would take to incite the flames were that one would notice the other's presence in a public area, make a too loud comment under their breath of how despicable the other was, and of course the other would hear and immediately make a scathing retort, and before long the voices were raised and everypony in the village knew.

So common were their fights that the local residents had started colloquially muttering under their breaths that 'the hammer was banging against the anvil again' in reference to such noisy disturbances, before flattening their ears against their heads so as to attempt to ignore them and try to continue on with their daily lives uninhibited. They did this because ignoring the raging arguments was their only option on how to deal with the infuriating duo, both had inherited one of two rival construction companies that had literally built the village from the ground up, and so both were wealthy and influential enough to pay off the mayor, the local sheriff, and anypony else that brought up silly phrases like 'disturbing the peace,' or 'causing a scene' to the two ponies.

Now everypony in the village knew that they fought because they hated each other, but nopony knew why they hated each other. Nopony remembered a time when Hammer and Anvil did not fight and argue with each other so ravenously, it had always been that way since the two have been there. Even Hammer and Anvil, when pressed, admitted that they did not remember when or where their hate for each other was born, only that they would say that they still hate the other, before listing off the most recently procured ear-bleeding discrepancies that one had for the other to any hapless pony that dared inquire them on such a topic.

So they fought. And they fought, and fought, and fought; raking the villagers' ears as they did so.

Until one day, their fighting went too far.

Or, to be more accurately put: became too loud.

For high in the sky, on one small cumulus that was surrounded by the thick noises of snoring, a rainbow hung limply from its side, and two cyan ears poked out from its top, which twitched irritably when the sound of shouting traveled across the high air.

In the middle of the village, Anvil and Hammer were having their most vile, insulting, and loudest argument that they had ever had before. So loud their voices screamed that ponies in the village and the surrounding area had their ears ringing so deafeningly that they couldn't even tell what Hammer and Anvil were arguing about.

They were pretty certain it was something to do with politics though.

As the local ponyfolk tried their best to endure the racketing tirades, they were suddenly caught off guard by a noise that they had not been expecting.

For on this bright and sunny day, the sound of a thunder's crack boomed out across the land.

The ponies looked up, over their village, to find that the sky's puffy clouds that had been a snowy white only a few seconds ago had inexplicably darkened and started coalescing together into one dark mass of a thunderstorm that swirled about over their hamlet. Nearby local pegasi that tried to approach and disperse the storm were quickly batted away by whips of lightning that struck out at any pony that neared it.

Unbelievably, but believable to the villagers who knew them, Hammer and Anvil did not notice this. They did not notice the storm's formation, its howling winds, its crackling thunder and lightning, nor did they notice that their coats had became soaked from the rain, so engrossed in their argument they were that such details completely passed them by.

It was only when the sun's beams of light suddenly covered them whole and a shiver of icy dread pierce up their spines did they finally stop their arguing to look up towards an opening in the thunderstorm clouds.

There, where the darkened clouds appeared to have been physically torn apart to let slip some of the sun's light, was a majestic mare with the blue sky as her coat and an iridescent rainbow as her flowing mane. On powerfully-large wings, she glided down toward the arguing duo, before stopping just above them at a distance where it was clearly obvious to see the scowl that marred her aesthetic features and how her eyes burned white with intense power and fury.

"WHAT THE HAY IS GOING ON DOWN HERE!?" she demanded, not in a shout, but simply in a tone made more booming than the thunderclouds above her by the deep, resonating power that rumbled irritably within her.

It was the Mare of Loyalty herself, rudely woken up from one of her many infamous naps in the sky by the loud clanging of Hammer and Anvil, which had traveled high into the air to directly pierce through her thick, reverberating dozing.

And she... was... vexed.

Of course, being abruptly wakened from a wonderful nap with an aggravating moss of insults and poisonous hate stuck in one's ears tended to do that to a pony, even to one as highly as her.

Flapping her great, powerful wings in the air, she cast her burning gaze over both Hammer and Anvil, "...Well!?" she asked expectantly.

For most ponies, being in the presence, and indeed the very cause, of a powerful, raging divine spirit would tend to make one quail in fear for their well being.

But both Anvil and Hammer remained completely calm before the spirit of loyalty.

And why wouldn't they? After all, all they had to do was calmly explain to the Mare of Loyalty how this was obviously the other's fault.

As Hammer and Anvil opened their mouths to explain, Loyalty watched them. She watched as these grown ponies descended into snarling wolverines, as they jabbed hooves at each other and incited each other's names as if they were scornfully inscribing them on the burning gates of Tartarus. She watched them, and as she watched them, she grew annoyed, and as she grew annoyed, her thunderstorm around the village howled and raged harder as the duo's arguing continued.

Finally, she had had enough of their bombastically blown quibbling, and with a great slam of her hooves, she landed before them.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!" she eloquently put, "Sweet Celestia, you guys really know how to make the ears bleed, don't ya?"

Before they could begin their quarreling again, Loyalty ensnared them both in her enormous wings, with Hammer in her right and Anvil in her left.

"For the sake of mine and everypony else's eardrums, it's time you two learned to get along with each other," she informed them harshly. And as she said these words, she reached into her deep, oceanic pools of pegasus magic and allowed sparks of blue electricity to discharge from her enormous wings and into Hammer and Anvil, whose fur bristled and spines tingled at the sensation.

Releasing the two to crash into a pile on the ground, Loyalty gave them a look of contempt, "If the two of you will not leave each other well enough alone, then so be it. I've magnetically charged the both of you so that neither of you can leave each other's presence." She leaned her head down closer to them, and whispered pointedly, "And if you want my advice, I suggest you learn to shut up and buck up, 'cause that ain't gonna wear off anytime soon."

With a flare of her impressive wings, Loyalty then disappeared into a burst of rainbows, rocketing off into the sky and far into the distance, searching for a quieter area for a well-deserved nap.

After her leaving, Hammer and Anvil attempted to untangle themselves, which included much shouting, swearing, and an unnecessary amount of whacks to the head, only to discover that as quickly as they were able to separate themselves, they were just as quickly to be pulled back into each other by a powerful, magical force. True to Loyalty's words, Hammer and Anvil soon found themselves unable to leave each other's presence.

They soon fully realized the implications of their predicament and acted predictably.

They argued.

For three whole days they argued nonstop; shouting, screaming, yelling, shrieking and howling at each other. Both blamed the other for their predicament, and both held nothing back in their insults. Many times their arguing got violent, and stuck as they were, their brawls usually ended up with them rolling around on the ground as they fought.

For three whole days the village was plagued by the loudest and vilest shouting that they had ever heard coming from the two. Many villagers couldn't get any sleep, some went temporarily deaf at a time, and a scant few ponies actually started doubting Loyalty's wisdom in magnetically chaining up the two.

But on the morning of the fourth day, something unbelievable happened that shocked the local ponies.

Silence reigned.

In the middle of the village, Hammer and Anvil sat together on the ground quietly. They were dirty, grumpy, tired, and covered in bruises and scabs.

But most of all, they were burnt out.

In the past, when their heated arguments and fights had inevitably ended, they would separate and both go to their homes to relax and recharge, usually never seeing the other again for the day.

But they couldn't do that now, and now they sat together in silence for the first time ever, unable to muster any motivation for insults and yelling.

Eventually, they both conceded that, as miserable as this situation was, they had to get on with their lives. They both had businesses to manage, housing to uphold, and many other tasks that needed their attending.

So, for the first time ever, they had had an agreement.

Now due to their magnetic situation, they could no longer do any of these tasks separately, so they worked out a schedule together, which was another first. This schedule of theirs gave them an equal amount of time to manage both of their businesses, shop their favorite stalls, and allowed them to clean and sleep in each of their own houses every other day.

For weeks they were inseparable, but only literally they would testify. They still had their horrid shouting matches and the throwing of insults every now and then, so at best they only tolerated the situation, not each other. But their arguments did eventually grow sparser and sparser as time went on, if only because being inseparable to the source of their ire caused their arguments to last longer, and as a result became more headache inducing and more time consuming for the both of them.

So they had conceded to stop starting fights over insignificant little things and at every chance they could get.

Walking had at first been difficult for them, given that they could only at best walk around glued to each other's shoulders, but they had eventually learned to time their steps and get past it. Dealing with the natural functions of their bodies were both awkward and embarrassing, and they both vowed to stay silent over such things. But what was most awkward were the positions that they occasionally found themselves in, like how sometimes they would wake together in a despicably comforting embrace, or how sometimes their violent tussles would cause their magnetic attraction to pull them into very awkward positions. Positions that would usually make them cease their fighting, pull away from each other as much as possible with a blush, and keep silent for a good while.

And with such a loss of privacy between the two it was only inevitable before embarrassing and condemning secrets were revealed on both sides. From then on any fighting, especially those in public areas, ran the risk of both of their secrets being revealed to the masses.

So the fighting and the arguments eventually stopped as they put trust into each other that neither of them would reveal the other's personal secrets. And with no more fighting, begrudgingly civil conversations and eventually just regular civil conversations took their place.

Hammer and Anvil had learned to tolerate each other.

As months passed, the magnetic attraction between them weakened, their figurative chains were lengthened and they were able to finally have a modicum of distance between them now. But they had grown used to each others presence and found difficulty in sleeping without another warm body next to them, so they decided to continue sleeping next to each other in the same bed.

But just for a little while, and only until they no longer felt the need to.

Time went on, many months passed, and on one sudden day, Loyalty returned to the quiet little village. She was only passing through, on her way to some big finale sports event that she traditionally attended, when one of the villagers approached her on the street and asked her if she was going to remove the curse that she had cast on Hammer and Anvil.

Confused and only vaguely remembering doing such a thing, she looked out toward the two ponies that stared back at her with slight trepidation; toward the pegasus stallion and the earth pony mare, whose belly was swollen with foal.

With a completely straight face, the Mare of Loyalty only looked at them and asked, "What curse?" before continuing on her way as if this was nothing of importance.

And there ends the story of Hammer and Anvil, who learned that the curse of 'sticking together' was not actually a curse.

Unfortunately, for the poor ponies who lived in the village, they still suffered greatly from two loud voices that shouted at each other constantly, and the colloquial phrase of 'the hammer banging against the anvil' was still very much used, albeit with a very different meaning now.

Because Hammer and Anvil furnaced out many, many foals.

And they were not quiet about it.

Blue Palm Trees on a Turtle Shell

Deep within the Equestrian mountains, tangerine orange hooves casually scuffed against the mossy surface that they stood upon. One of these hooves rose upwards to tilt back the stetson hat that sat upon the brilliant, wheat-like hair that was the mane of a mare, revealing piercing emerald eyes that transfixed all those who stared into them.

The Mare of Honesty stood there in the daylight, her impressive stature soaking in the gifted rays of Celestia's sun as she looked over the objects that she was asked to examine.

Her emerald eyes blinked once.

Jutting out from the sandy island before her were five palm trees that reached high into the air. But instead of a healthy green, the leaves of the palm trees were instead an unusual blue color covered in a sickly mold

In her mouth, she switched the stalk of wheat to the other corner of her lips.

"Eeyup," she affirmed to herself, "those are some sick palm trees alright."

As if to accentuate her point, a branch with moldy blue leaves detached itself from one of the five palm trees and fell to the circle of water that surrounded the island.

Her deduction stated, the Mare of Honesty could literally feel the roll of eyes next to her without even having to turn her head.

"Gee, thanks, AJ," commented a humorous voice that, while definitely not dripping with sarcasm, was definitely moisturized in it, "I would have never figured that out by myself. I'm glad that I've got you here to tell me these things."

A smirk tugging at her lips, Honesty let out a puff of air escape from her nostrils in amusement, "No problem, Dash. I do what I can," she replied lightheartedly. As she said this her emerald orbs followed the sickly blue branch that had fallen into the pool and had started to slowly sink deeper into the water's depths.

Suddenly, a cyan hoof dipped into the water and reached under the branch to pull it out of the pool. The moldy branch hanged from the hoof and dripped like a wet rag as the cyan pegasus that held it had her violet irises roll over the branch in contemplation, before flicking her iridescent tail in irritation at the sight of it. With a huff, she tossed the branch before the Mare of Honesty's hooves.

"But seriously," said the Mare of Loyalty, casually stretching her great wings upwards in the open sun as she gave her fellow Element a serious gaze, "do you know what's causing this?"

In one of the mountain ranges that dotted the lands of Equestria, a river traversed between the pine tree-covered slopes that covered the surrounding land. A completely average Equestrian river, the running stream was of average width, depth, and had a decent flow to its waters that gave it a peaceful sense. Some ponies would even admit that it had an overall beauty to it, despite its average-ness or perhaps even because of it.

But however beautiful the river may be to some ponies, any acknowledgement for it would no doubt be overlooked by the rare sight of what one of its banks currently played host to.

An enormous turtle, practically the size of a small island, whose massive size caused a multitude of pine trees and many other pieces of smaller foliage to be crushed under its algae-covered shell as it half-dipped its large head into the river for relaxation and occasional drinking. As it relaxed under the bright sun, its wide, green flippers bent the nearby greenery under its weight whenever it occasionally shuffled its body into a more comforting position.

It was a truly unbelievable sight to see, though even the sight of an island-sized turtle was eclipsed by those who stood upon it.

For on this massive turtle's algae-covered shell, next to the pool-surrounded island of sickly palm trees that were at the center of its shell, stood two Mares of Harmony in their splendid glory; the Mare of Honesty and the Mare of Loyalty. Each stared down at the blue branch laid between them, Honesty's entrancing emerald eyes studiously examining the unusually colored branch in its whole and in its every detail, while Loyalty's violet orbs watched on from behind the faded edges of her spectrum mane, occasionally glancing between the branch and the mare as she patiently waited for Honesty to respond.

Finally, the Mare of Honesty raised a hoof in a half-shrug as she answered, "Sorry, Sugarcube, but I ain't exactly sure on what's causin' this."

Fluffing her large wings once, Loyalty gave Honesty a small frown, "Seriously?" she asked disbelievingly, "Not even a clue?"

Returning the frown, Honesty replied, "Now I didn't say that," she corrected, "I've got plenty of clues on what's goin' on with'em trees. Even got a couple guesses on what's wrong with'em. I jus' don't know anythin' specific about why they're all blue like that."

Loyalty gave an exaggerated roll of her violet eyes at Honesty's specifying, before speaking out, "Well, then just lay those on me already, alright?"

Switching the stalk of wheat to the other corner of her mouth, Honesty elaborated her theories, "Well, considering in all my lifetimes I ain't never seen any plant turn blue that weren't supposed to—'specially no palm trees—then my best guess is that either those trees got infected by some new, mutated virus that's makin' their pigment go all wonky, or some crazy wizard is magically cursin' 'em to be that way for whatever reason."

Loyalty blinked once as she blankly stared at Honesty, the quiet, rippling sounds of the streaming river and the rustling of the pine trees in the wind filling out the silence between them. She then turned to the quintuplet of sickly palm trees with their blue leaves and stared at them for a few quiet moments, before turning back to Honesty with a frown.

"This better not be some precursor to a devastating virus or the return of a horrible wizard that's going to destroy all of Equestria's crops or something," stated Loyalty contemptuously, before casting her violet eyes aside and muttering, "Of course, with our luck..."

Honesty chuckled lightheartedly at Loyalty's response, "Now c'mon, Rainbow, you know it ain't always like that with us," she chastised with a knowing smile, "There's a very good chance that this could be nothin' too bad."

"Either way, I'd rather not have blue, moldy trees growing out of Tank's shell," Loyalty replied as she gave a quick, worried glance toward her familiar's head, before turning back to Honesty, "any ideas on how to deal with them?"

"Ain't it simple?" asked Honesty, before casually gesturing toward the trees with her hoof, "We uproot 'em and get 'em to Twilight. I'm sure with her help we can figure out what's goin' on with yer trees."

Loyalty shuffled awkwardly on her hooves, "Ah, right. Uprooting. About that... that's actually one of the reasons why I needed ya here," Loyalty shifted her hoof through her iridescent mane as she awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, "The thing is, I'm not entirely sure how deep the roots of these trees go into Tank ...or how connected he is to them. Never really took the time to figure that out, and I don't want to hurt him, so... could you...?"

Placing a hoof on Loyalty's shoulder, Honesty nodded as she gave her a warm smile, "Don't worry, Sugarcube, I'll make sure."

Loyalty returned the smile, "Thanks, Applejack."

With a small hop over the pool of water, Honesty landed on the small, sandy island. Placing a hoof on the trunk of one of the palm trees, she took a brief moment to look up at it in its entirety, before turning herself around. She then raised her hind leg, and gave a quick buck to its trunk. Holding her leg in place after the impact, Honesty stayed quiet in concentration as she felt the vibrations that ran up and down the tree, before breaking out into a grin.

"Good news, Dash! Tank's fine! Roots don't even go that—"

KONK!

Honesty blinked her emerald eyes.

Staring straight ahead, she met Loyalty's, whose shocked violet eyes stared back at her.

Raising an orange hoof to rub the slight discomfort she felt on her head through her stetson, Honesty looked down to find the coconut that had bounced off of her skull now lying on the sand.

She raised her gaze and stared back at Loyalty.

For a long, awing moment, the two only stared at each other in silent amazement.

Then Loyalty snickered.

"Pffft—Ahahahaha!" laughed Loyalty uproariously as she pointed a hoof at Honesty, who only looked on with an unamused expression as the Mare of Loyalty continued to pour out the laughter at the expense of her fellow Element. Frowning at Loyalty's behavior, Honesty quickly gained a devious smirk as she placed one of her hooves directly behind the fallen coconut.

"That was bucking hilarious!" guffawed Loyalty, "Ahahahaha—"

"SMACK!

"Ow!" exclaimed Loyalty, bringing up a foreleg to her face she then rubbed her hoof against her muzzle in discomfort. The punted coconut that had sailed across the distance between the two Elements had struck her face at a speed that would have surely keeled over a fully grown minotaur and left a severe bruising on any normal pony if it were not for the fact that Loyalty was made of sterner stuff the same way the trunk of a tree was to a blade of grass.

With nary a bruise on her face, Loyalty glared at Honesty in annoyance.

Honesty, for her part, let out a bemused scoff at the sight, "Now don't be givin' me that look, Sugarcube. Y'all knew that yeh were settin' yourself up for that one."

Snorting once, Loyalty relented her glare and looked away from Honesty, "Yeah, I guess. Heck, I'd probably do the same thing anyways," she conceded in a lackluster fashion, before turning back to Honesty with a cheshire grin, "except I would've nailed a pony between the eyes instead of just hitting them on the snout like you."

Emerald orbs rolled in exasperation at Loyalty's boasting, "Oh, now don't yeh start with any of that," replied Honesty, "and since you're done busying yourself laughin' like a schoolfilly, why don't yeh come on over an' help me uproot these things?"

Under the daylight sun, the mountain river rippled over itself calmly as it streamed downhill. Birds chirped their songs throughout the air, and pine trees rustled their leaves and branches in the soothing wind.

One of the green pine trees had some of its branches suddenly crunched into the maw of a giant turtle, who tore the branches from the tree's trunk and began meticulously chewing on the crunchy greenery.

On the back of the massive animal's shell, the Mare of Honesty and the Mare of Loyalty were laid across it as they casually watched the giant turtle enjoy its meal; their bellies pressed against the shell's algae while their forelegs were partially dipped into the pool of water at its center. They had uprooted and removed the sickly palm trees with the blue leaves from the small island and pushed them off the side of the shell onto the forest floor. There, a group of pegasi in royal armor were tasked to lift the trees and secure them into Honesty's canvas wagon.

Honesty had grumbled discontentedly when Loyalty had called down the guards from her cloudy abode—which had been detached from her familiar and left to drift low in the sky when she had brought Tank to the ground—to finish the work they had started, but nonetheless took the reprieve offered from Loyalty, albeit grudgingly.

"I don't see why yeh had to call down yer house guards just to finish up our work when we were completely fine doin' it ourselves," grumbled Honesty as the two Mares of Harmony watched the guards work from atop the turtle's massive shell.

Loyalty glanced at Honesty with a mischievous grin, "Seriously? You don't see why?" she asked humorously, "I mean, do you not see the bunch of muscly stallions working in the hot sun? Their muscles flexing under that tight armor as they strain to load and unload huge pieces of lumber right in front of us? Their coats glistening as they sweat from the intense, burning heat?"

For a long while, Honesty only stared at her fellow Element, her face deadpan and frowning, until finally, "...If I go on into yer home right now and look through yer bookshelf, it ain't jus' gonna be adventure novels that I'm gonna find, ain't it?"

"What? Of course not," objected Loyalty, "believe it or not, Applejack, but I have broadened my interests over the centuries. I now have detective novels, horror novels, and even a couple of the lesser techno-babble science fiction novels that Twilight recommended to me. All of which I read in my downtime," she stated sincerely, before turning to give Honesty an overly pleasant smile, "or, you know, whenever I'm not letting stallions plow me."

Honesty's hoof met her face as Loyalty laughed uproariously next to her.

"Sweet Luna and Celestia," Honesty swore under her breath, "I ain't one to really preach a smidgen of chastity to a pony, but between yeh an' Rarity, I'm startin' to think that we may need that as the seventh element or somethin' jus' to reign everypony in a bit."

Quickly finishing off her boisterous laughter, Loyalty let out a snort, "Chastity? Please. I mean come on, we're centuries old and eternally destined to guide the ponies of Equestria. I think we're allowed to have a bit of fun," she then gave Honesty a sideways smirk, "or a lot," she chuckled, before allowing her smirk to grow "but hey, so long as we're talking about reigning in ponies, maybe we should add temperance as the eighth then. What do you think, Applejack?"

Snapping her head fully in Loyalty's direction, Honesty's powerful eyes narrowed to such a degree that it was any wonder that beams of hate didn't escape from between her eyelids, "I think yeh need to shut yer mouth. That's what I think," she stated seriously.

Loyalty did no such thing, in fact, considering just how loudly she laughed, it can be safely said that she was doing quite the opposite to what Honesty voiced. But this was alright, for it was not long before Honesty's own chuckles of laughter soon joined with Loyalty's to dance together in the air.

As the echos of their laughing soon receded across the river valley, Loyalty incidentally glanced down at the laid-down belly of Honesty in the throes of her chuckling and could not help but voice her concern at the sight.

"Hey, Applejack," spoke up Loyalty, slight concern in her tone, "you want a towel or something to lie on? Because you're kind of making the algae around you grow pretty wildly."

"Hmm?" Honesty glanced down to find the algae under her had grown exponentially in the short amount of time that she had been lying down. To the point that it had lengthened up her sides and was now pointedly sticking to her tangerine coat. "Ah, that's alright. Nothin' a little leg-shakin' won't fix," she replied, wherein then Honesty raised herself up and proceeded to do said leg shake, which kicked off the residue algae.

"Sorry about that," apologized Loyalty as Honesty laid back down next to her, "should have grabbed you something while I was up in my house. I know how plants get around you, and with Tank's algae already pretty magical on their own..."

"Now don't yeh start frettin', yeh darn well know I'm already quite used to this sort of thing," chastised Honesty, "although I've gotta tell yeh, Tank's moss always seemed to grow faster than most other plants do when around me."

"Probably has something to do with this mystical pool right here," commented Loyalty as she splashed a bit of water with her dipped hoof, "I'm pretty sure the magic in the water is causing the algae to grow stronger or something?"

"Oh, yeah. Nearly forgot about yer magical pool here," said Honesty, "what's so mystical about it again?"

Loyalty shrugged her large wings nonchalantly, "Ah, you know. Sometimes it shows me things that were, or are, or have not come to pass yet. The usual kind of clairvoyant shtick," she glanced back at Honesty, "what about you? You've got something similar, right?"

"Yeah, I've got a cooking pot in my wagon that basically does the same thing when yeh pour enough water into it," informed Honesty casually, before grunting discontentedly, "which can make supper pretty awkward when I've got ponies with me and the brew starts spewin' out past calamities and such in front of everypony."

Letting loose a few chuckles, Loyalty gave her a cheerful smile, "Yeah, that can be annoying sometimes," she said, before turning her gaze away from her fellow Element to look out across the nearby river, her violet eyes glazing into the distance, "but never tiring though..." she muttered.

As silence reigned between the Mare of Loyalty and the Mare of Honesty, the leaves of the mountain pine trees bristled in the blowing wind, while Loyalty felt Honesty's worried eyes upon the back of her head as she stared off into the horizon.

Tearing her gaze away from the mountainous horizon, Loyalty found Honesty staring back at her with those emerald eyes of hers; those deep, piercing eyes of Honesty that could draw out the self of any pony that stared into them. Even now, as Loyalty's violets met Honesty's emeralds, she could feel the facets of her soul being consciously prodded for an opening; not one to be found and plundered, but to be willfully created and let flow out what needed to be shared.

Honesty opened her mouth, "Rainbow—"

"Applejack," interrupted Loyalty; her words tense, but eyes soft, "you know you don't have to do that with me, right?"

Staring for but a moment, Honesty blinked her eyes once and the entrancing power of her emerald orbs quickly lessened to their usual vibrancy, while the prodding that Loyalty had felt upon her soul disappeared completely.

"Sorry 'bout that," apologized Honesty as she offered her friend and equal a small, sincere smile.

Returning the smile with a gentle one of her own, Loyalty gave her a short nod, "It's okay," she uttered quietly, before casting her eyes downward. Her violet eyes meeting her own in the pool's reflection as she laid there quietly.

Honesty looked on in silence, this time patiently waiting.

"I don't feel old," Loyalty finally spoke, her tone distant as she stared deeply into her reflected orbs, "I've been alive for centuries now and I don't feel old," she turned to look directly at her friend, "and I'm not just talking about how our bodies are kept fit and everything. Every time I look back, every time I try to remember everything... in my first life I used to feel winded, taken aback at all of those memories that I had gathered in my life." A breeze threw strands of her rainbow mane before her face, causing her violet eyes to be clouded behind a spectrum of colors as she kept her gaze locked with her eternal friend, "But now... even compared to how long I've been around now, all of my memories and all of my experiences feel little more than a drop in an enormous chasm. A chasm that is just aching to be filled up by even more little drops ...by what the future has to offer, because that's what it was made to endure."

Honesty said nothing, she only turned away and looked off into the distance, over the pine tree-covered mountains. Loyalty soon joined her, the wind blowing their manes listlessly as they lay quietly upon the shell-covered back of the massive turtle.

Finally, Honesty spoke, "I know the feelin'."

Loyalty glanced back to her friend momentarily, before throwing her gaze back into the distance, "...I suppose that this is what they meant when they told us that we'd be ready for our new lives ahead of us."

A burst of wind picked up that blew their manes wildly, before settling down again after a moment's pass.

"...Eeyup."

The Mare of Honesty tested the ropes that kept the sickly blue palm trees strapped into the wagon with a great, big pull of one of the spare ends. When everything was held in place, Honesty showed off an approving grin and turned toward the Mare of Loyalty.

"Well, looks like yer guards did alright without our help, Dash," proclaimed Honesty.

"Of—ha ha!—course they did fine without us, they're—hey now!—military! They don't need—ew!—us to hold their hooves with something as simple as—CAN YOU GET HER OFF OF ME NOW!?" shouted Loyalty as she tried vainly to get the massive, four-eyed beast that was Honesty's familiar off of her, and subsequently to stop the great beast from licking and slobbering all over her face in its enthusiasm.

"Now Dash, yeh know Winona is only just showin' yeh how happy she is to see yeh," chuckled Honesty with a bright grin, before letting out a loud whistle, "alright, Winona, that's enough!"

"Woof!" barked out the large canine as it ceased its licking of the rainbow mare's face and jumped off of her to run around in the mountainous forest.

Standing back up on all fours, Loyalty gave Honesty a dirty look as the cowpony chuckled at her expense, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," grumbled Loyalty, "just remember that next time I'm gonna get Tank to jump on you."

"Yeah, I'm sure," stated Honesty sarcastically, before raising a hoof to Loyalty, "anyways, here's hopin' that these trees aren't a forewarnin' to anythin' too bad."

Loyalty let out a humored snort, "I wouldn't bet money on that," she said as she bumped hooves with Honesty, "in fact, I'd doubt those blue trees are anything good."

Honesty glanced back at the collected pile of unusually colored trees secured to her wagon. She eyed them for a full couple seconds before facing Loyalty again with a tender smile, "Well... I wouldn't say that," she replied, "I'd say that they've got one good thing goin' for 'em."

"Really?" asked Loyalty, her tone more pleasantly curious than anything, "like what?"

Tilting her stetson back, Honesty looked upwards into the blue sky, with Loyalty soon doing the same. There in the air was Tank, Loyalty's massive familiar, floating in the sky as it waited for its master to return, its shadow being cast across the landscape.

"We jus' uprooted blue palm trees from the shell of a massive flyin' turtle," she stated as she leveled her gaze downwards with Loyalty's, "so if anythin', at least these trees will take an interestin' place in that chasm of yers."

Loyalty stared blankly at Honesty for little less than a second before letting a small smile appear on her face, "Yeah..." she said as her eyes drifted to the pile of palm trees, "they're one of the many notes in the long journey that is our life if nothing else," she paused; looking straight ahead, she slapped her hoof against her face and groaned out, "oh wow. Did I really just say something that cheesy? Okay, now I feel old."

"Make that two things," corrected Honesty with a chuckle.

Dear Rainbow Dash,

With extensive assistance from Applejack, we have discovered through detailed scientific analysis and experimentation that the reason why those palm trees growing from Tank's shell had had their pigment turn blue was due through exposure to the mystical pool that surrounded them. It turns out that the magic from the pool seeped into the palm trees, giving them an extended long life (How did you not notice this? Most palm trees only live some one-hundred years. Did you not get that guidebook of arecaceae I sent you?). When the trees eventually did start dying it seems that they tried to absorb as much magic as they could from the pool, which caused some side-effects (their pigment turning blue, and overgrowth of mold) on top of just not being able to prevent their expiration.

~~Your princess,~~
Your friend,

Twilight Sparkle

p.s. The next time this happens don't burn, bite, or consume the branches in any way when they turn blue. Consumption has a high chance of causing hallucinogenic episodes of events that may or may not have happened yet.

p.p.s. Seriously? A devastating virus or an evil wizard? You and Applejack need to be a bit more optimistic. I mean come on, those two things have only happened four times overall in the half-millennium that we've been doing this.

Author's Note

Edit: added Twilight's letter from the comments.
You know, I was sitting down one day and thinking, "you know what my readers deserve? A story with two Mares of Harmony!"

And then I wrote one.

So anyways, Galadriel in Lord of the Rings is all braggin' 'bout her fountain and such, meanwhile RD is all like, "Psh! Whatever! I got the same thing in my front yard... which is a TURTLE!"

...Yeah, I take a lot of inspiration from Tolkien, among other things.

Don't forget to leave a like if you haven't already and a comment, as I am always hungry for your opinions.

The Crux of Generosity

It's a short tall tale that is quite silly and shouldn't at all be taken seriously, except for the not at all very silly parts that should be taken seriously. Seriously, silly!

~ Laughter, from Tall Tales of the Tutelary Spirits

Some time ago—whether it was a short time or a long time, no one knows, though most do agree that it was definitely a time ago—there was a neighborhood full of rich ponies rich off of their riches and enjoying every enriching moment of it. And it was here in this neighborhood that there sat a magnificent mansion for each green hill that rolled across some grassy lands of who knows where. Of marble plaster and colorful gardens surrounded by welcoming spear fences, these lavish manors housed some of the most successful ponies in what was probably Equestria. From richly business owners to experienced investors, from lucky inheritors to mysterious ponies with sordid hooves, and from celebrities both famous and infamous; they and their families called these extravagant mansions their homes.

It was on the hour of an orange evening, when the sisters of night and day shared their rule for the briefest of time, and when most well-off ponies spent their time in their abode, that a visitor trotted about on the windy road that interconnected each marvelous mansion together into the richly neighborhood that it was. Orange on one side by the waning sun and less so on the side of the peeking moon, this visitor was a rag-wrapped mare wrapped in wrap rags of the grayish-blackish kind of sort that happened to be grayer where it was cleaner and blacker where it was thicker with stains. With the exception of her oily black muzzle and horn that peaked out from under the finite fabric, most of the mare's face was obscured from view by the brown cloak hooded over her; its ends billowing in the night air as her wrap-covered hooves carried her to the doors of one of the neighborhood's many lovely mansions.

Rapping her rag-wrapped hoof against the gilded doors of the mansion, the mare waited patiently for an occupant of the home to answer her rappings that now echoed throughout the mansion's interior. When the doors parted, the answeree was revealed to be an elderly and fine-suited, business stallion with a face more furred than the rest of his body; his burly mustache hanging like a sweep brush over his mouth and his grayish brows so thick that they hid his eyes from view.

"Pardon me, dear sir," spoke the ragged mare, her voice smooth like silk, "but may I ask that you invite me into your home so that I may bathe myself? I am terribly sorry to impose upon you like this, but I am on my way to meet with important, far off ponies who would find my arrival in such a state galling, and I would not want to offend them."

The business stallion did not immediately answer the rag-wrapped mare, instead he harrumphed and hummed as he stared upon this ragged mare on his doorstep; his thick eyebrows dancing and long mustache twirling as he thought on the matter.

Finally he spoke, "I am dreadfully sorry, my dear mare," he apologized in a tone lightly tanned with regret, "but my home is currently playing host to an important meeting with my company's top executives, and I would look incredibly rude to invite a stranger into my home during such a meeting. May I suggest you try that investor lass down the street? I don't believe she has anypony over and so would have no worries inviting you into her home."

The rag-wrapped mare found the business pony's excuse to be reasonable and wished him well with his important meeting, before excusing herself from his doorstep and directing her steps toward the neighbored mansion that the business pony had recommended.

When these mansion doors opened, out flowed a pile of papers and numbers the likes of which could have easily been mistaken for an amorphous monster of office supplies were it not for the clearly obvious fact that this was just a mare covered in long slips of data paper that were slung about her figure. She was an overworked mare to be sure if those dark bags under her eyes and her overall disheveled appearance were anything to go by. There was also the fact that the interior of her home also seemed to be covered in the sheddings of the nonexistent-but-undoubtedly-real amorphous monster of office supplies that is said to prey upon cubicle ponies right when a deadline approaches.

A long time survivor of the unheard-of-yet-infamously-legendary amorphous monster of office supplies, the disheveled, overworked mare gave the wrap-ragged mare a once over, before raising her eyebrow inquisitively.

"Yes?" she yes'ed questioningly, "May I help you?"

"You may indeed," nodded the wrap-wrapped mare, "you see, I'm looking for a tub so that I may clean myself of all this muck and grime. I had first inquired to the kind business pony down the road, but he could not deliver on this need on account of his important meeting taking precedent. He suggested that I come to you with my request as he was sure that you had none over with you to busy yourself from my need."

At the rag-wrapped mare's words, the disheveled mare gave her another once over—which was really a twice over if one was counting—before grimacing at the sight of the rag-wrapped mare's oily hooves.

"I am sorry, but I can ill afford to allow you to enter my home as of now as its floor is currently strewn about with investment data, stock value predictions, oracle readings, and at least one prophecy. And if just one of these were to be dirtied or misplaced, I could very well lose millions. Perhaps you should give my neighbor a try as she's a mare who inherited all of her riches from her family, so I am sure that she isn't busy with any sort of work to refuse your request."

Again, the rag-wrapped mare found this to be a reasonable excuse, as she had no wish to be the cause of such a massive loss in money for this overworked mare. So she gave the mare a polite nod as she thanked her for her time, before leaving her doorstop to the next neighbored mansion that tangled with the winding street.

When the entrance to this mansion parted open, out stepped a flowing blue dress of fine silk that was laced with some of the most intricately weaved strands of fabric to grace the night air. Interwoven around the jewel neckline of this dress were white winter blossoms that perfectly complimented the azure gem and matching pearl necklace that graced the form of the dress. Bundled up in the dress's folds was also a mare of some age, although to be quite frank this added inclusion was not a better detail of the otherwise intricately beautiful dress.

The fine dress with a mare in it leaned against the mansion doors with a noticeable flare, as if to better showcase the silky fabric in all its splendor, "Good evening," greeted the mare in the dress, "to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Your neighbors, I dare say," answered the rag-ragged mare, "as it was they who shepherded me to your front door. You see, I am in search of somepony to allow me into their home so that I may bathe myself of the oil and grime that covers my body before I have to meet with those of important stature. I had hoped the business stallion would allow me this, but he had been busy with a meeting and directed me to try my luck with the investor lass, who turned out could not allow my entry into her home as it would run the risk of her losing millions if her work of numbers and data were to be muddled. She recommended that I come to you with my request as she was sure that you would not be laden with any important work to prevent you from helping me."

When the rag-wrapped mare finished her explanation did the dress with the mare in it react accordingly. The folds of the fabric that wrapped around the mare's hoof raised upward toward the space above the dress's neckline, where the mare's forehead was, while the whole of the silken form made the dramatic shift of leaning against the open door on the left, all the way to leaning against the other one on the right.

"Oh, were it not you could be a beggar instead," sorrowed out the dress with a mare in it, "if it were a hoofout you needed, I would gladly compensate as I have plentiful inherited money to spare and to do away in charities as I please. But to allow one as dirtied as you into my home? Disastrous! This mansion of mine is my family's and is utterly filled with priceless paintings, statues, rugs, and the like; all of which have been kept in pristine condition within my family for generations. Were I to allow even the floors to be sullied, my entire bloodline would literally rise up from their eternal rest and haunt me for my lax care, just as that investor lass's prophecy foretold. Why don't you give my neighbor a try? He doesn't seem to be a stallion afraid to get his hooves dirty and should have no worries about such hooves trotting across his floor."

Again the wrapping-ragged mare was denied entry into a home, and again she was directed toward another mansion that was promised to be of a better luck to her than those prior. Following the windy street once more, she came upon the mansion and knocked upon its doors.

This time, when the doors to this mansion turned inward, out marched a stallion made of shadow and stone; his fine, dark suit and the low-brim fedora that capped his eyes into a fixed glare were both fabric black like the shadows of the night, and his stern stare and straight-lined frown were fixed upon his face like a carving on a rock. With a scar lining the side of his frowned muzzle, the stallion remained silent without a change in his hard expression as he stared upon the ragged-of-wraps mare standing on his doorstep.

No words were exchanged between the two dark-garmented ponies, as instead what occupied their silence was the ruckus that rabbled out of the stallion's mansion like an unseen, rowdy army. The clanging sound of bundled steel and iron being moved about, the boisterous tones of shouting, drunk and angry stallions, and even the mad barking of aggressive dogs all marched out of the mansion and around the ears of the two ponies.

Finally, the stallion tipped his head lower and let the fedora's brim pronounce its made glare on his face even more so as he quietly stepped back into his home and began to slowly close the door on the rag-wrapped mare.

"Try the next mansion over," he advised in a stern fashion before closing the door fully.

And so it was that the rag-wrapped mare went before the doors of each neighbored mansion, and so it was that each owner of these mansions denied her entry into their abode through the use of one reasonable excuse or another, before recommending that she try her chance with a less important neighbor of theirs. This went on for so long, that when she reached the end of the neighborhood's windy road, she had ran out of mansions to be hopefully welcomed with. What was only left was the smaller, yet still decently sized home of the richly community's head groundskeeper, whom shared his humble abode with his wife and their half-or-so-dozen children.

With a great, big, bushy beard growing out from under a worn straw hat, the groundskeeper was lying back comfortably on his porch's rocking bench that casually rocked back-and-forth like so many rocking benches were want to do, even if it was a terribly lazy habit stereotyped to all furniture of the swinging variety. Not even when the raggedy-wrapped mare stepped into his yard did the rocking still.

"Good evening," greeted the groundskeeper with a small nod.

"Good evening, sir," replied the wrap-ragged mare, "pardon me for intruding on you so, but I have been wanting for help for some time now and no pony in this community has been able or willing to assist me. If it is not too much trouble, I was hoping that you may allow me entry into your home so that I may clean myself of all of this terrible muck that sticks to my coat."

It was three swings on his rocking bench later in silent contemplation that the groundskeeper gave his reserved response, "Hmmm... stuck muck, eh? I'll have to ask the missus if you can come in to take a bath. She owns the house, I only own the yard—like in most marriages," with that, the stallion turned his head and called out for his missus, "Sweetie!" he shouted.

"Yes, Dearie?" was the sweet response as Dearie's Sweetie walked out of the front door and onto the porch as a plump mare in a pink apron; a cheerful expression on her face even as the sound of foals and older foals chattered about from the open door.

The groundskeeper gestured toward the wrap-raggedy-ragged-of-wrap-rags mare with a nod, "This here mare," he said, and that was all he said, because that was all he needed said.

"Oh my! What a poor mare this here mare," exclaimed the groundskeeper's wife once her eyes set upon that there wrap-raggedy mare. In no time at all, she was behind the ragged-of-wraps mare and was pushing her incessantly into her home, "Come, come, come; you must come inside for a cleaning. Just give me a moment to warm up the bath and round up my children to help with the scrubbing."

"Oh! Why thank you, but there's no need to gather your children for my sake. I'm able enough to bathe myself," said the ragged mare in a veiled-defense for individualistic self-capability, to which she was promptly slapped on the rump and shushed by the groundskeeper's wife.

"Now none of that," said the sweet wife resolutely, "you need a proper cleaning."

"If you insist," replied the ragged mare in a tone that lacked of any real loss.

With that, the ragged mare was corralled into the groundskeeper's and wife's home, whereupon she waited patiently for the wife to ready her bath, while a number of foals danced around her wrap-ragged hooves. As she waited, the bearded groundskeeper beguiled the time with her with riveting talk of proper hedge-trimming, horticulture, integrated pest management techniques, and many other skills of the groundskeeper trade that helped him survive the Zebrican-Equestrian war of old. An enthralling tale, he assured.

Finally, when the bath was ready and partying with bubbles, the wife unwrapped the wrapped mare's wraps and cast off her hooded cloak, revealing a mare completely covered in oily grease and brown-like grime that wholly marred her coat and wrinkled down her mane and tail. She then tossed the unwrapped mare into the soapy tub, splashing water and bubbles everywhere as the clear liquid already began to darken from the coated grime, before turning to her army of children armed with sponges and scrubs all lined up before her.

"Get to cleaning," she ordered them.

When the unwrapped mare's head resurfaced from the bathwater, she was immediately assailed by an arsenal of soap, shampoo, and fabric material that scrubbed her coat from a half-a-dozen different directions. Not that she groused under the assault, in fact she actually giggled at the family's enthusiasm; their unified effort to combat the dirtiness of this mare whom they knew not. For nearly an hour they bathed her down, and for nearly an hour did this mare be revealed to them.

As soap and brushes scrubbed through the mare's coat, the brownish muck of the grime and the oily grease that darkened her coat was washed away to reveal a pearlescent coat that seemed to shimmer in the light. The shampoo that lathered through her mane and tail were soon rinsed away to reveal violet strands of hair that glittered like encrusted gems, much to the surprise of the groundskeeper's family. The biggest shock of all though came when their youngest filly handed the mare a washcloth to rinse her face, while the filly herself began wiping clean the mare's horn.

Which was revealed to be as crystalline as diamond.

"Woah!" exclaimed the little filly, so surprised as she was by the reveal that she lost her footing and fell into the tub of bath with a splash. She did not stay in the water of bubbles and grime for long though, as she was soon carried out of the bathwater by an azure aura that surrounded her body and lifted her up in the air. Before the little filly could regain her wits, she was blinded by a familiar washcloth that covered her whole and rubbed her dry. When she was relieved of the cloth, she was greeted by beautiful azure eyes and a smiling, graceful face.

"Careful now, little dear," said those azure eyes so pleasantly, "or somepony might have to receive their own little bath today too."

She set the filly down next to her gathered family, who now stared in awe at the mare in their tub. Rising up out of the water, the once-wrap-ragged mare stepped out of the bathtub, her form seemingly taller now than when she had previously been covered in ragged wraps. From her crystalline horn, azure magic traveled across the mare's body, drying her coat and returning her mane and tail to their original voluminousness, which were of an ample scale.

With a warm, azure gaze, the unwrapped-and-revealed mare looked upon the shocked family before her that had welcomed her into their home and gave them a generous smile.

"Well," said the Mare of Generosity casually, flicking her violet mane over her shoulder with an exuberant flare as she did so, "I must say that that was quite the well-needed soak. Don't you agree?"

And so it was that the Groundskeeper's family had bathed clean the embodiment of generosity. For this, Generosity, in all of her gratefulness, took a hold of the ragged wraps that had covered her so, and with her magic and skill, crafted them a beautiful canvas painting of a diamond as thanks for their generousness. A now popular painting famously known across Equestria as The Diamond in Rags.

"And to think," had spoken the groundskeeper in a ponderous moment, "that all those ponies had Generosity on their doorstep without their knowing."

When asked whether or not she was dissatisfied with the ponies that had turned her away, Generosity replied, "But of course not. To invite a stranger into your home is a real risk that not many ponies are willing to take, as they rightly hold much value in what is theirs and do not wish to see it endangered."

"But is that not the crux of Generosity?" she then asked with a familiar, genuine smile seen many times worn by her fellow Elements, "To risk what is yours for the benefit of others?"

Author's Note

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

~ Hebrews 13:2

A classic trope in storytelling if I do say so myself.

Also, my short writing funk has ended, so expect more work from me down the road now.

Honesty Among the Dead

It is commonly said that it is graveyards that are where the dead rest.

Never before has that saying ever been taken so literally as it had in this moment.

For in this valley of tombstones and crypts that littered these middle-of-nowhere hills, where there were a number of crisscross roads that crisscrossed through it all in a way that indicated these hills as an eerie crossroads of sort to the so faraway cities and townships that shared their buried dead here, there was a hammock. This hammock was located in the middle of this middle-of-nowhere graveyard, at the topmost curve of the center hill, and tied between the trunk of a decrepit, dead tree and the rail of a grand crypt entrance.

And it was also currently occupied, if the snores that bellowed throughout the hilly graveyard were any indication.

The figure laying in the strung up resting net was an equine completely immersed in the shadowy black fabric of a dark cloak that draped over the figure's form like clothed oil. Face entirely obscured by the swallowing darkness of the abyssal cloak's hooded shadows, the only physical feature to escape out of the cloak's dark grasp were the alabaster-white hooves that tipped out of the cloak's sleeves.

And as the cloaked equine continued to snore blissfully in the grimly scenic hammock, a shadow fell over the cloak's shadowed form.

Suddenly, a tangerine hoof impacted against the hammock, causing the cloaked figure to jerk awake as it toppled out of the resting net. When it impacted against the ground, an equine skull rolled out of the figure's shadowy hood, stopping at the base of the hill's dead tree, where it sat.

"Ah! Bleedin' Tartarus!" cussed out the skull in a grunted tone, its grounded jaw causing its entirety to move like the flapping lid of a waste bin, "Who be there!?" it shouted in a masculine voice, "Is it those dang kids again? Don't ye know it's improper to wake the dead from their slumber!? T'is be a matter of respect!"

Despite the lack of a head, the body of the cloaked figure quickly managed to stand up on all fours and begin shambling its way towards the befallen skull, but not before almost tripping over the half-or-so-dozen corked and uncorked bottles that lay strewn about on the ground as it did.

"Oi! Mind the rum!" shouted the skull, before remaining silent for a few contemplating moments, wherein then it muttered distastefully, "Ugh, I be shoutin' at my own body again like it needin' be ordered..."

When finally the cloaked body reached the misplaced head-bone and quickly set about fastening it to the shadowy insides of its hood, it hurriedly swung about in search of the perpetrator who had disturbed its slumber, "Alright, alright, whoever thought it be funny to disturb me rest, ye best show yourselves now or else I'll-I'll... Oh..."

The black voids of the skull's eye-holes met with the emerald orbs of Honesty; the Mare's vibrant, wheat-like mane and virile body providing quite the visual contrast with the skeletal equine before her and the decayed graveyard around the two.

"You'll... what now, partner?" asked the Mare of Honesty with a knowing smirk upon her features, her mischievous emerald eyes just barely revealed under the brim of her hat as she leaned forward earnestly for his answer, much to the chagrin of the hooded skeleton.

"Eh... heh heh heh," chuckled the skull awkwardly as he took a few backward steps away from the taller earth pony, "nothin', nothin'," he assured her lamely, "just an ol' wraith grumblin' about his rest bein' interrupted s'all."

For a moment, the Mare of Honesty kept her gaze locked with the skull's, that smirk of hers still glued to her face, before pulling her head back with a short snicker, "Yer rest, huh?" she replied in an amused tone, "I thought yer kind didn't sleep? After all, how did that sayin' go?" she put a hoof to her chin in smirking contemplation, before making play of a quote "Ah, right: 'Fear the wraithstriders, the undead soldiers of Tartarus, who know neither rest nor exhaustion in their deathless quest.' Ain't that how it goes?"

In the cold of the night, a misty huff of irritation escaped out of the skull's nostril holes, "It does and that's me point exactly!" shouted the annoyed wraith, before pointing his skeletal hoof at the Mare of Honesty accusingly, "Do ye know how hard it is to close me eyes without havin' any eyes? Being able to take a nap at all is an achievement in of itself! An' ye had to go and ruin that!"

More lighthearted chuckles were released from the Mare, "Sorry 'bout that," she apologized cheekily, "I hadn't a clue how much effort it took to be lazy."

"It's an under-appreciated art and I'll have ye know—" but before the wraith could continue his arguing, he was interrupted by a horrible wail.

"REEE-AARGHAR!!" it went, a most terrifying and in-equine wail that echoed out over the graveyard and would have terrified the hearts of all those nearby if it weren't for the fact that the graveyard was empty—save for the two souls that stood at its center, but one lacked the required blood organ to feel that terror and the other carried the very source of that horrifying wail on her back.

The wraith and the Mare stood on that hill, their chiding quibbles now absent from the air around them, instead their eerie setting was now perforated by the horrible growls and barks that soured their manner.

Finally, the wraith deigned to speak, "So..." he uttered in a heavy tone, "ye got the beasty, did ya now?"

The Mare of Honesty said nothing, the brim of her hat covering her eyes from sight as she stood still as a statue in her silence. But this silence only lasted barely a moment before she angled her gaze behind her and dipped her back.

The terrifying creature let out an angry bark as it landed on the ground like discarded lumber, it's legs tied together and snout muzzled with strong rope so as to prevent any escape or danger. But lo did the creature try though as it frantically struggled against its bonds like a rabid animal.

"Ah did."

The beast was a pony, or at least it had been, once. Now, with mottled patches of fur and decayed skin that hugged its skeletal frame like dry mud, the equine looked more that of a corpse, but even that was being charitable. Hollow yellow eyes glowed from their sockets, hooves once flat were now warped like talons, and the flesh around the mouth was ripped gone to reveal rows of crooked fangs that no pony should of ever had, alive or otherwise.

It honestly was as if a demonic spirit had taken possession of a long-dead pony and prompted the decayed flesh to start mutating into that of something more of a monstrous abomination.

Which, it being a ghoul, wasn't far off.

The wraith took a step closer to the struggling ghoul, looming over it with the passive expression that only a skull could own. Up and down the ghoul's decrepit body did the bone muzzle travel as eye sockets filled with dark shadows took in the details, stopping at the distended stomach.

"Got a full belly," the wraith noted, before kicking a bony hoof into the ghoul's side, eliciting out violent barks from the undead pony, "had a quick bite to eat, did ye now? Snacked on some dearly departed dead, huh?" asked the wraith in a raised voice, the laugh in his tone clear that he expected no answer from the crazed creature.

The undead pony let loose blood and gunky spittle in its gurgling roar as it violently thrashed around and tried desperately to clamp its rotten, shrapnel teeth on the wraith's bone legs. Long fibers of a once-lustrous mane splayed over the ghoul's decrepit face as it stretched its flesh-torn neck closer to the cloaked skeleton in its mad state.

The wraith shook his skull at the sight, "An' to think that ye used to be such a pretty lass..." he turned and walked back to his hammock, "but 'suppose that's what happens when ye scalawag spirits start thinkin' escapin' Tartarus will do ye any good. It ain't as simple as just wearin' yer old body again like they're some worn britches, 'specially not when the hunger starts kickin' in."

Approaching the hammock, a skeletal wing emerged out of the wraith's cloak like a hand from shadow and expertly grabbed one of the corked bottles of rum lying on the ground. The bottle was worn and tinted green. It also had silk paper brushed with inked glyphs tied around its jug. Placing the cork between the skull's teeth, the wraith bit down and pulled the cork out of the bottle.

"Ye were all warned about it too—by the ferrypony," continued the wraith as he trotted back to the tied-up ghoul, "ye were all warned about what happens when the dead escape Tartarus: they get weird with the life around them. They get weird and then they get dangerous. Then we wraithstriders gotta go through all the effort to hunt'em down and bring'em back," the wraith stood over the ghoul now, his bony wing clasping the bottle as his abyssal eyeholes looked down at the struggling corpse passively, "it be all a bit tiring."

"Are ya'll seriously complainin' 'bout effort?" asked the Mare of Honesty incredulously, her smirk obvious as she casually leaned against the decrepit tree, "You, the dead pirate with a hammock? Never mind the fact that I was the one that up'd an' wrangled the ghoul for yeh anyhow."

The wraith's eternally grinning skull seemed to eternally grin even more as he turned to the Mare, "Well now, that be only cause yer such an upstanding lass who can't help but help," replied the wraith, his tone laughing, "besides, t'is be the principle of the matter. I've got centuries as a wraith ahead of me: centuries of having to hunt escaped spirits, of having to guide lost dead, and of having to make sure the demons keep chained up. What's wrong with a wee bit of slacken' off every now and then?"

"The part about it all bein' pension for yer crimes in life," deadpanned Honesty, her piercing emeralds peeking from under the brim of her hat, stabbing at the soul hiding within the skull's shadowy abyss of a gaze.

"Heh heh," chuckled the wraith, "no mercy from you, eh?"

"I've got plenty of mercy," attested Honesty; still leaning, she crossed her legs and glanced over the graveyard's many hills of tombstones, "jus' not any forgetfulness."

At that, the wraith only kept eternally grinning that eternal grin of his and brought up the bottle of rum to his bony muzzle. Downing the alcoholic beverage, the colored liquor undoubtedly drowned his bones bloody as it poured out from the back of his hollow muzzle and down into the shadows of his cloak. When half of the liquor was gone, the wraith relieved the bottle away from his teeth.

"T'is always such a shame to waste good rum," commented the wraith as he turned his attention back to the ghoul.

A bony hoof slammed down into the ghoul's shoulder, sinking deeply into the rotten flesh and eliciting out a violent wail from the beastly corpse, though whether the scream was from pain or from anger was ultimately unclear.

"Bottom's up," quipped the wraith, and with that, he stuck the bottle into the ghoul's decrepit mouth while it was roaring, causing it to gargle on the invading liquid. And though the sloshing rum poured out of the bottle and into the ghoul's mouth, the ghoul did not drink from the bottle.

Instead, the bottle drank from the ghoul.

The glyphs of ink that were paper-tied around the bottle began glowing a glow of white energy as the ghoul began letting loose horrible coughs. Choking on the pouring liquor, the ghoul hacked and hacked, obscenely so from just a bit of rum.

So terrible and powerful were the ghoul's hacks that it was a surprise to no one when it coughed out its soul.

A mass of blue mist, writhing and wailing with a mystical glow, was coughed up like bile that had been stuck in the back of the throat. Up into the bottle of rum it went, coalescing together and taking the shape of a misty equine. Finally, when it seemed that the ghoul had coughed out the entirety of this mist, its body went through a terrible spasm right as that final misty tail slipped out of its mouth. Decayed limbs twitched and a pathetic gurgle escaped out of the ghoul's throat before it finally stilled and slumped, its glowing, yellow eyes dimming to a blankness as the corpse became corpse-like again.

The wraith unceremoniously lifted the bottle of rum from the rotting body and peered into the glass container, his abyssal gaze focusing on the misty equine entrapped within that now had yellow eyes the size of pinpricks, glowing like the dead possessed. The tiny specter was bleak of any features, except for some feminine curves that indicated its previous life as the fairer sex. Rearing up spectral hooves in ravaging fervor, the misty equine slammed into the glass walls of the bottle repeatedly, only to be repelled each time by the glowing symbols inked out on the silk paper. When the specter charged upwards, the wraith slammed a cork into the bottle's mouth, sealing off the last viable exit for the dead pony.

"An' there we have it," spoke the wraith, before peering closer into the bottle, "that'll hold ye 'til we get back to the Pitts."

"Oh, so yer finally done sittin' on yer rear?" asked Honesty with a playful smirk. She was still casually leaning on the decrepit tree, by which now had moss growing up its bark where her coat pressed and tufts of grass crawling over its roots where her tangerine hooves rested, there were even a few leaves sprouting from the tips of its branches; all due to her presence. "'Bout time yeh actually got off yer hammock and did yer job."

The wraith glanced at Honesty before turning back to the glass bottle again, "I suppose ye be correct," agreed the wraith as another skeletal wing emerged from his oily cloak, "I suppose it be time I return to Tartarus..." the wing reached in front of the wraith and pulled back the front of his dark cloak, "and make my deposit."

The parted cloak revealed the wraith's skeletal frame: stained red by rum and a ribcage containing four liquor bottles wedged between the bones. Each of the bottles had a ghastly spirit of a once living being entrapped within, all of them furiously whirling about uselessly within their little glass prisons. Adding to this collection, the wraith expertly maneuvered his skeletal wing holding the bottle that contained the ghoul's soul and jammed the bottle into an unoccupied space between his ribs.

"That makes five souls," commented the wraith, his skull grin ever present, "ye think the Undertaker will be impressed."

Honest chuckles reached where the wraith's ears had been once, "Oh, I'm sure he'll give yeh a big ol' smile for all yer effort," replied Honesty, a cheeky smile of her own showing.

The wraith's eternal grin on his skull never went away, instead only a scoffing mist escaped out of the wraithstrider's nostril holes as he let his skeletal frame and prize of five disappear behind his cloak, his bony wings now at his sides.

"Though I gotta admit," continued Honesty, removing herself from the not-so-longer-decrepit tree and approaching the wraith, "five on one trip s'got to be pretty impressive."

"Why do ye expect so less of me?" admonished the wraith, his tone happily boastful, "After all, I didn't terrorize the skies and seas for over twenty years by sittin' on my rear and bein' lazy. Pillagin' trade ships and Their Majesties' vessels kept me quite limber in my life."

Honesty said nothing. She stared at the wraith, her emerald eyes boring into the empty ones of his skull. "Don't yeh have a Pitt of Damnation to crawl into?" she finally asked.

The wraith chuckled, "Ooh, struck a nerve did I?" he asked.

"Yeh ain't struck nothin'," insisted Honesty, "I'm jus' saying, the entrance to Tartarus is a long ways away from here. Wouldn't want to delay yeh from returnin' there more than I have to."

"Glad to see that ye be still the sincerest of the Six," complimented the wraith, "though I be thinkin' that I'll jus' skip the long journey to Tartarus's grand entrance and jus' go through a backdoor."

A moment of staring between the two incurred and then the wraith stomped his bony hoof once into the dirt. Immediately, the grand crypt entrance behind him stirred. Its stone doorway rumbled and groaned loudly as it slowly arched open and revealed a stairwell that twisted downward into the earth. Its walls were covered in masses of dusty bones that seemed as ancient as the dirt they covered. A red, fiery glow could be seen burning deep from within its depths as bellows of ghastly voices could be heard faintly by the updraft of wind that poured out of the crypt and brushed against Honesty's ears.

But it was not just the howling winds that emerged from the open crypt; the rapid rattling of chain against stone and the frenzied sounds of mad barking also bounced off of the crypt's bony walls and out into the graveyard. As the sounds became louder so did too that a massive, rambling shadow could be seen on the walls, visible by the crypt's burning light of red.

Leaping out of the crypt entrance came a large, two-headed canine with a coat as black as the night. Charging straight for Honesty, this orthrus was only stopped a hoof's length before the Mare when the rope of chain that was coiled around the large dog pulled tight, forcing it to only bark threateningly at the living soul that dared near an entrance of the Damned. Larger than even the Mare of Honesty, the orthrus had itself reared up on its hindlegs as both of its heads barked blindly, the chain coiled around it acting as a counterbalance.

Unflinching of the roaring Hel beast before her, the Mare of Honesty only raised a hoof to her mouth and let out a loud, piercing whistle.

Ears pricking up in attentiveness, the orthrus immediately calmed at the loud whistle. Setting back down on all fours, both of the orthrus's heads, each of which had four eyes, leaned closer to the Mare of Honesty and sniffed warily at her tangerine coat. When the orthrus smelled her scent, both heads perked up happily at the familiar smell of apples.

The wraith watched on, "It be an orthrus of Tartarus, everypony," he deadpanned neutrally, "Truly, they be some of the most fearsome beasties in all of Equestria."

"Oh hush now," chided Honesty as she enthusiastically rubbed the orthrus's tummy with her hooves. Splayed on its back, both of the orthrus's heads whined appreciatively at the attention it was receiving, "Yer just a big ol' puppy, aren't yeh?" she cooed, to which one of the heads barked happily, "That's right. Yes, you are."

Shaking his head, the wraith turned about and headed for the crypt's entrance, snaring a corked bottle of rum off of the ground with a wing.

But before the wraith could take five steps in the direction of the crypt, one of the heads of the orthrus pricked its ears up.

With angry barks, the two-headed canine leapt off of its back, away from Honesty's delightful tummyrubs, and placed itself in front of the wraith, blocking the way to Tartarus as both of its heads growled menacingly at the draped skeletal figure.

"Pah!" scoffed out the wraith in irritation as his path was blocked by the ferocious guard dog, "There be always a toll..." he muttered in annoyance as he reached a bony wing into his cloak.

Rummaging his bony wing inside his cloak for a short while, the wraith finally took a hold of something and began pulling. With a snap!, the wraith pulled out two rib bones and threw them into the air, to which the orthrus caught both with each of its heads and began chewing happily on the offered payment of dead-but-not-dead bones.

"And off to Tartarus I go," commented the wraith as he resumed towards the crypt's entrance, "to home sweet home."

But before taking that first step into the bowels of Tartarus, the wraith paused at the crypt's entrance. Turning aside just a bit, the wraith's abyssal eyeholes peered back at Honesty, whose emerald gaze did not flee from the darkness.

"Thank ye for the help, sweet lass," said the wraith in surprisingly polite fashion, even lifting the bottle of rum up in a courtesy acknowledgment.

The Mare of Honesty stared into the wraith, her emerald eyes stabbing into the abyss-filled gaze without waver.

And then she smirked, "See yeh in Hel, Blackmane."

"AH HA HA HA!" laughed the wraith uproariously, "Now why would ye be saying that, hmm?" he asked merrily and so knowingly, "Planning on dying sooner than ye should, eh?"

"No," answered Honesty honestly, "but considering how long ya'll be in Tartarus, if someday, long from now, me and my friends were forced to go down there on an undue trip, I wouldn't be surprised to see little ol' you still kickin' around in the Sticks."

The wraith chuckled so bemusedly, "Aye," he nodded with that eternal grin of his, "even I wouldn't throw bits down against that bet," uncorking the bottle of rum, he took a full swig before meeting Honesty's gaze again, "stop by my locker then if ye get the chance, I'll save ye a bottle of rum."

Honesty smiled an honest smile from under her hat, "No, yeh won't."

And the wraith laughed; he laughed and laughed so merrily as he entered the crypt and walked down into the fiery hole of the Underworld. Behind him followed the orthrus, still chewing on his two rib bones as the chain coiled around the guard dog rattled against the ground. Slowly the burning light of Tartarus disappeared as the crypt's stone door sealed shut behind the two, the first verse of a song being the last thing to escape the Underworld just as the door closed.

"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"

Author's Note

I'm back!