The Guard, the Woodcutter, and the Changelingby icekatzeChaptersAutumnWinterSpringSummerAutumnSir Steel Tine the Diligent, On the Superstitions Surrounding Changelings, year 672 of Her Majesty's reign. According to official records, through which I have exhaustively searched, there have been no confirmed sightings of changelings in over two hundred years. Indeed there are many amongst my colleagues who question whether they still exist, or if they ever existed at all. The latter notion I can put to rest, as Princess Celestia herself spoke of meeting one long ago, although specific details were not forthcoming. There are a number of common themes present in tales about changelings, and many accounts that differ drastically. The following is one particularly well preserved account which I encountered while visiting a remote locale. It is peculiar in that a number of the elements correspond with real past events, though no doubt containing much of the usual embellishment that comes with second and third hand retelling. Other elements are so outlandish that they strain believability, however without vouching for the truth of this tale, I have transcribed it into a modern dialect as accurately and as faithfully as possible. Once upon a time, long long ago when Equestria was still young, there lived a woodcutter and guardsmare called Lathe Turner and Stoccado. They lived in a small peaceful village nestled between a gentle brook and a deep old forest, a place that many an Earth pony would feel right at home, even if they were visiting from far away. It was the sort of town where ponies left their doors unlocked when they stepped out to go to the market, where a wave and a friendly smile would rarely go unreturned; though it was also a place with a need for talented guard ponies to take up arms when great wild beasts would wander out of the forest. Lathe Turner was born, lived, and worked there; and by all accounts had planned to live out the rest of his days just as he always had. Stoccado was born far away, growing up in the mountains south of Canterlot where she was trained with fire, form, and sharpened steel. When she moved to the little village, she made fast friends with many of the ponies who lived there, and though Lathe Turner often kept to himself, he was no exception. As spring turned to summer, Lathe Turner and Stoccado spent more and more time together. Rather than preparing and eating his usual humble meals by himself, Lathe Turner found himself meeting Stoccado for lunch each day, while Stoccado found herself going to parties and even dancing, something she'd never done during her disciplined youth. And so it went, that on one long summer day, the woodcutter and the guardsmare went out into the meadow, they ate dinner under the setting sun where all the world was alight with magic, they stayed up late to watch the dancing fireflies outshine the stars in the sky, and she asked him to marry her. Had those two young lovers been born at any other point in time, the opening of this story might well have been the finale, and the two would have lived happily ever after, but whether by fate or happenstance their tale does not end here. Unbeknownst to anypony in that peaceful little village, trouble was stirring in the North. Mooselini, son of Rasmoosen had ascended to the Elkingdom throne during the previous cold and brutal winter, and after consolidating his power amongst the nobility, his ever growing hunger for power led his attention to a new and prospering rival, the nation of Equestria. You see, in those old days, before Celestia's reign of peace and harmony, before chaos showed its true form to the world, there were still many who believed that an iron will and an iron hoof were the greatest powers in the world. And so during that very Summer, after a series of increasingly unreasonable demands to the Council of Three, Mooselini declared war on Equestria and invaded. There were dark times in those early days, times of heavy hearts and heavy deeds not sung by any minstrel nor extolled in any poetry, where every competent guardspony from across the land was summoned to fight. Stoccado's heart ached to leave her fiance, but she knew what her cutie mark meant to her, and to those who were counting on her to keep them safe from harm. With sword and spear strapped to her back, Stoccado set out from home and Lathe Turner followed her to the edge of town, where she turned and they shared one last kiss. "Where I go, you cannot follow." She said when she finally broke away. "Stay here, stay safe, and I promise I will return to you." For a moment, Lathe Turner looked down at his hooves and was silent, and Stoccado felt another twinge of remorse, as if she had just scolded a lost puppy. "If ever hope should fade," Lathe Turner said at last, "remember my love." Knowing that if she stayed another moment, shared another word, she might lose the courage to leave, all Stoccado could do was nod. Then she turned and walked away. WinterAfter more than a year of skirmishing, of increasingly fierce battles, of losses and victories exchanged between the two sides; there were many who felt that the course of war was racing toward some inevitable grand finale, one final page in a book of follies that would decide the fate of rulers and peasants alike. For her part in the war, Stoccado had kept up hope in the face of great odds, and had earned the respect of her peers. As is often the case with Earth Ponies, Stoccado's talents proved better suited to staying out of sight than standing front and center, clad in imposing armor. And so it came to pass that in the late autumn, though the threat of a wild blizzard lingered not far away, Stoccado moved tracelessly through a dense red and gold underbrush that had not been cleared away for the winter. Her connection to the land aided her as she moved past her enemies unnoticed, allowing her to track their movements and report back safely. It was a task she had performed countless times before, but on that particular day, fate or happenstance intervened once more. Up ahead in a small clearing, Stoccado heard raised voices. The angry bellows coming from a troop of elk were familiar to her, but there was also the unexpected sound of someone confused and scared. Stoccado crept closer until she found herself a safe vantage point, and gaped in shock as she tried to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. A pony with a cart stood surrounded by Elkish soldiers, a pony with no armor, no weapons; and in all appearances a simple merchant. What was she doing in such dangerous lands, was she lost, was she a spy, did she not realize there was a war going on? "Why are you so mad at me?" The mare pleaded with them, her voice hinging on panic as she looked frantically for any hope of escape. "I didn't do anything to hurt you." The lead moose only laughed at the pleas, and towered over her quarry. "You can play dumb all you want, little pony, but foolishness won't save you." The mare shrank back in her harness, but she was trapped. "There must be some way to work this out. I- I just wanted to trade." The lead moose had run out of laughter, leaving only a cold threat in reply. "You still don't get it. You are our prisoner, and everything else is our spoils, and if you don't give us any more trouble, you might even get a fair trial." The mare was on the verge of tears. "Please... no." More pleading was not what the lead moose wanted to hear, and before the mare could blink, the moose struck her across the face with a forehoof. However, several things happened in that instant, some of which the moose did not expect. The mare went limp as consciousness was knocked away from her, which came as no surprise, but the burst of brilliant flame that surrounded her and left a dark form in her place was unexpected indeed. Now, Stoccado knew what a changeling was, as ponies and changelings crossed paths more often in those days, but she had never seen one herself and so she didn't yet comprehend the sight before her. All she saw in that moment was someone or something in trouble at the hooves of her adversaries, and she acted. Knowing full well that the odds were stacked against her, badly outnumbered as she was, she leapt from the bushes with an angry shout and charged the moose without regard for her own safety. This was something else that they didn't expect, and before their shock had passed, she scored a clean hit. Perhaps the moose that day were an undisciplined lot, perhaps they believed they had fallen into some cunning pony ambush, but before had a chance to realize they faced only a single pony, the lead moose cried out for retreat. The moose turned and fled, tearing a trail through the underbrush heeding neither the saplings nor brambles that stood in their way, and leaving behind Stoccado, the strange mare, and the fading thunder of stampeding hooves. Now, Stoccado also knew that it would not be long before the moose returned, and in greater numbers, so she hurried to free the strange mare from her wagon harness. It was then that she got a closer look, and the realization dawned upon her that the strange mare was a changeling, but she neither stopped nor hesitated. The changeling's pleas for mercy still echoed in her ears. Once freed from the harness, Stoccado shook the changeling gently. "Wake up, wake up. We haven’t much time." For the length of a held breath, the changeling did not stir, and Stoccado was contemplating carrying the changeling on her back, but with one last prodding the changeling opened her eyes. Though stars were still caught in her vision, the changeling felt she could trust the stranger who stood over her. She felt a sliver of kindness from the mare, compassion, and the sort of love that anypony might feel for everypony at once on a sunny day. It was more than she'd felt in some time. "Do not fear, you are safe for now." Stoccado said, though she saw no fear in the changeling’s eyes. "Can you stand? We must be on our way soon." Unsteadily at first, the changeling rose to all fours. "And my wagon? It's all that I have." Stoccado shook her head. "If we wish to escape, we cannot carry that burden. They will be searching for us now." The changeling paused for a moment as she regarded everything she owned in the world. The wagon itself had served her faithfully for a long time, but the contents were transient things, barely more than scraps that in truth, she worried she'd have been unable to trade in the first place. "Just promise that you will not send me away, and I will not have lost everything." Stoccado held a hoof solemnly over her heart. "In payment for your possessions, until the debt is repaid, I will not abandon you. Though I travel a dangerous path, and you may change your mind about following me." The changeling looked away as Stoccado drew close to her wagon. "You have already saved me, perhaps I might return the favor." Stoccado didn't have time to consider how that promise might change her life, instead she was counting the passing seconds as the threat of a counter-attack grew. Yet before retreating into the woods, she made one last move to spite the Elkish soldiers by drawing a torch and setting fire to the wagon and its contents. It was a long, silent walk to escape the lands held by the moose, and twice the pair had to stop and hide as furious patrols passed close by. But eventually they did reach friendly lands, and it was only then that the two had a chance to speak without fear of capture. However, Stoccado had gotten no farther than asking the changeling's name when they ran into a very different kind of trouble. "I don't have a name of my own." The changeling said, shying away as if expecting an angry outburst. Stoccado merely shook her head in disbelief. "How can one not have a name? Everypony has a name." "Where I come from, no changeling has a true name. Only whatever someone chooses to call us, and we rarely agree on anything." The changeling frowned as she recalled the past, "My mother called me 'little one,' I once had a companion who called me 'lost,' and lately ponies have simply called me 'merchant.' Perhaps you could give me a name. Are ponies not renowned for their meaningful names?" Though she hoped to be, once the war was over, Stoccado was not a mother and she had never given anyone a real name before. The changeling was certainly not a foal either, and oath or no oath, Stoccado didn't feel that the changeling was hers. She merely said the first thing that came to mind. "Perhaps Steel Echo will suit you." The changeling nodded, and for the first time, Stoccado saw her smile. She would remain Steel Echo for a long while after. With the unexpected challenge of discovering Steel Echo's name behind them, Stoccado set out to discover just what kind of pony she had rescued. Steel Echo admitted that she did not know how to fight, and that she had not been very successful as a trader either. She was still young, and the world was a bewildering and frightening place, in which she had become accustomed to surviving on the kindness of strangers. She truly hadn't known about the recent war between Equestria and the Elkingdom, and was hoping for better luck, along with some measure of appreciation, by traveling Northward with goods from the far South. Instead, she nearly met an untimely end, and wasn't sure how things could possibly get worse. "They most certainly can get worse." Stoccado was lecturing a recruit. "I can convince my superiors that you are a guard pony, like me. I can convince them that you are an unlucky merchant, and I may even be able to convince them that you are a long lost relative, but if you truly wish to stay with me, a guard pony you must be. Being a guard is not easy." Steel Echo refused to be dissuaded. "Once when I was young, I stole a piece of candy from a kindly merchant. Mother scolded me and said, 'Little one, anyone can recover a treasure of gems and coins, but we live forever in debt to those who are loving and kind.'" "The work we will do as guards will by anything but kind." "Then why did you not leave me to fend for myself?" Stoccado had no answer for that, and she could see that Steel Echo's mind was set, so Stoccado spent the rest of the walk back to camp teaching her everything she could about being a guard, who was in charge and how she would be expected to act. There were a great many questions asked when the two finally did return, but Stoccado held the respect of her peers, and at length, her superiors were persuaded to overlook Steel Echo's lack of any coat of arms, heraldry, or formal letter. Stoccado had made an oath, and she felt duty bound to honor it. She taught her new recruit everything she could about fire, form, and sharpened steel in what little time they had, but even then she did not truly expect it to last. Rather, she expected Steel Echo to reconsider their agreement after her first taste of battle. But when the time came, though Steel Echo was left shaken as Stoccado expected, she still refused to change her mind. Stoccado could not help but respect her determination, and the two grew to become close friends. Nopony suspected that the squire who followed Stoccado everywhere was not actually a pony at all, though her peers noted that she was sometimes more akin to a lost puppy. Those who liked puppies said so openly to them with genuine mirth, while those who disliked puppies whispered it behind their backs with distaste. But when the ponies would gather around the campfire to tell tales, to lift up their spirits, and scare the wicked spirits away, Steel Echo could feel the connection they all shared. Time passed. Autumn gave way to Winter, leaf clad trees bent and snapped under the weight of the snow, and the fighting grew steadily worse. The leaders of both armies were desperate for a decisive victory. For the Elk, their king's popularity was plummeting alongside the temperatures. For the ponies, there were many who feared the Windigo's return, and plans were laid down to end the conflict before Hearth's Warming, no matter the cost. In the middle of it all, Stoccado and Steel Echo found themselves scouting less and on the front lines more. Steel Echo fought hard trying to repay a debt that could never be repaid, but no matter how skilled she became, Stoccado continued to support her more than she could in return. Stoccado never complained. For Stoccado, trust was something that no amount of skill could replace. It was a bitterly cold night in the middle of winter when the entire Elkish army met the Equestrians' in a pitched battle near the ruins of a long contested city, the battle that would decide the war. Stoccado and Steel echo fought in the plains, they fought in the streets, they fought side by side, and they fought back to back. But just before the dawn's first light, Stoccado saw a strike that was meant for Steel Echo, and she pushed her friend out of harm’s way. Only a heartbeat too slow to move clear herself, Stoccado was struck, and the two were toppled into a heap on the ground. Steel Echo held Stoccado still, and their assailant's attention turned elsewhere. Tides shifted quickly, the clamor of battle grew distant, and as the sun rose up to begin the day, there was silence. Drawn into focus by daylight, Steel Echo saw that Stoccado's wounds were grave, and was shaken from her daze. But when she cried out for help, the only soul to hear was Stoccado. "Echo, is that you?" With some effort, Stoccado opened her weary eyes. "I fear my time draws short. I cannot move." Though the world still lurched from side to side, Steel Echo worked carefully to free herself. "Do not speak of such things. Only hold on just a little longer, and I will go and fetch help." "With every thread of strength left in me, I will." Stoccado's voice was scarcely a whisper, but when Steel Echo stood to leave, her voice rose to the occasion. "Please wait and listen! There are things I must say, ere I lose the chance forever. Already I can feel my strength waning, and if help does not find us soon, there will be nopony to explain why there is no record of Steel Echo in any library or ledger, why she has no home and no family to return to. I took what life you had..." Tears flowed down Steel Echo's cheeks. "You saved me, gave me your friendship. I could not have asked for more." Although she could feel the end inching toward her, Stoccado was worried only for the well-being of others. "You asked me once for a pony name. I give you mine. Guardsmare Stoccado is not so poor that she could not start over again in some far off land, if she so chose. Only for my friends, my family, sweet Lathe Turner; ease the burden of my passing." Steel Echo had to stop herself from shaking her friend. "Do not make me beg, promise me you will hang on." "I have already made too many promises that I cannot keep." Stoccado's voice came between ragged breaths. "Forgive me. Where I go, you cannot follow." Steel Echo felt stayed by her friend and held her close, until she breathed her last. SpringClambering over rubble and half-burnt timber, Stoccado clambered her way out of the ruins cautiously, expecting an attack to come at any moment. Instead of a fight, all she found were shadows. At length she wandered into an Equestrian encampment and was astonished to see several elken soldiers walking freely about. Some nearby guards were quick to explain, the fighting had exacted such a terrible toll that when first light revealed the extent of the destruction, the commanders from both sides called for a hasty truce. The war was finally over, whether the leaders of both nations wanted such a thing or not. When Stoccado asked the guards to explain which war they were talking about, they first dismissed it as a bad joke. Realization and shock crept upon them only slowly, but finally they called for a medic. The diagnosis, that a blow to her head had caused her to lose her memories. They kept her in an infirmary for days, her commander occasionally sitting at her bedside, asking her questions in hopes that her memories might have returned. Unfortunately, as the time passed, it became clear that no amount of rest and no simple Unicorn magic would cure her condition. With other more immediate concerns on the rise, and as Stoccado proved her competence in spite of her memory loss, they could not justify holding her forever. Before that year's early winter wrap-up, she was walking the long road back South, with a generously provided map to a place that was supposed to be her home. Rumors and news of the war's end traveled much faster than a long bedridden veteran, and along the way she crossed paths with many kindly strangers who praised her for acts of bravery, and every time she shook her head and told them there was no need for thanks. And though she wore a smile, each time her sense of unease grew. She began to doubt herself, and wondered if it might be easier to settle down in some random town and never face the looming horde strangers who knew the pony she was supposed to be, who would expect her to remember them in return. That gnawing doubt kept her up late into the night, and yet each morning she pressed onward, unable to decide upon different path. It was a warm winter evening when Stoccado arrived at the edge of a small peaceful village, nestled between a gentle brook and a deep old forest. She ought to have felt right at home in such a place, but instead she worried that with one misstep the warm and welcoming facade would be pulled away. She wasn't sure if she had the courage to face what lie underneath. Once again, before she could decide on another path, a group of ponies spotted her. In their eyes she saw recognition and excitement, felt the sort of love one feels for an old friend. It made the knot in her chest tug harder, but she realized she could not turn around and go back. Into town she walked, and in doing so she crossed paths with many who waved cheerfully, and many more who stepped aside and watched with concern. They knew she was not acting herself, but were too polite to pry. When Lathe Turner galloped up to meet her, Stoccado felt a rush of honest love unlike any she felt before, and for a moment the knot in her chest was somewhere far away. Her old friend never spoke for long about her life back home, just a slice of life every now and again. Instead, her lessons were always about the fight ahead. She wondered just how close they had been. Her mother once told her she would recognize love when she saw it, but she still she doubted herself. The elation that followed such raw emotion inevitably mingled with the guilt she carried in her own heart. As soon as she realized she had been smiling, the smile faded away. "I am not the Stoccado you knew." Stoccado stepped forward and embraced the stranger, knowing it would be a cold comfort. "She fell in battle." When she stepped away to leave, Lathe Turner kept pace with her easily, but struggled to find his voice. "Please wait. Would that I understood what has happened, but surely you are worth knowing as well." Stoccado had no answer for him, and so, as she searched the streets for her home, she explained her story. Her memories were as lost as she was, and she planned to leave town soon. After all, would she not prove a source of unhappiness for her friends? Likewise, Lathe Turner had no answer for her, but he tried to convince her not to make any rash decisions. After all, what difference would a few extra days make but for a chance to find the answers? With nothing decided, they bid each other good night at Stoccado's front door. Only after the door was locked behind her did Stoccado try to relax, yet she still felt as though she were a ghost, occupying a home that was both hers and not her own. It was emptier than she had imagined, stocked with simple furniture and few pictures on the walls, but once she set a fire in the hearth, it was not so cold. She spent the night reading letters addressed to a pony with her name. Lathe Turner found no sleep that night either. Though he had tried to prepare himself for both the best and the worst, he found that he was altogether unprepared for what fate or happenstance had set upon him. Unable to lose himself in his favorite pastimes, he tossed, turned, and stared at the ceiling while he lie in bed, unanswered questions dancing endlessly in his head. Morning arrived suddenly with a knock on the door. Old friends insisted that Stoccado come with them to eat breakfast, and if she could not remember things, they were only too happy to provide reminders. Apparently, the news had spread through the town, but those old friends still whispered about who, what, and where, as though her condition were still a secret. Everywhere she went, she was greeted with a friendly smile and a wave all the same. Later, Lathe Turner invited her out to lunch and the two talked, awkwardly at first, about nothing important. They talked about the changing seasons, news from a neighboring town, and Lathe Turner found himself talking when he would rather be listening. Yet it was only long after all the other patrons had departed when they finally went their separate ways, having both agreed to meet again the next day. When evening arrived, Stoccado ate dinner alone in a house that felt not at all like a home. It was a cold and tasteless meal, as is often the case in the late winter, when the stored food is running out and nothing fresh has yet grown; a meal taken more out of habit than of hunger, and she resolved to leave before staying in town became a habit as well. Even as she prepared to leave, the days fell into a routine in spite of her efforts. She ate breakfast with friends that were now her own, lunch with Lathe Turner, and her evenings she spent alone, planning her escape. They were plans she might have followed through with, if not for the wild beast that came from the forest. It was during dinner that the mayor came pounding on her door, pleading for her help. She picked up her blade without a second thought and charged headlong into danger. She knew it was what the pony she was supposed to be would have done. Tearing its way into a home on the edge of town there loomed a massive snow leopard with teeth and claws of jagged ice, yet even such a formidable creature was given pause by the ferocity of tiny pony wielding a blade of biting steel. They fought in the streets, they fought in the fields, and though neither of the two came away unscathed, the beast was eventually driven back into the forest to lick its wounds. Only after she was certain it would not return, did Stoccado retire herself, seeking the town's doctor to tend to her own injuries. At length she went to leave the doctor's parlor, but when she opened the door, she was stopped in her tracks by a sudden roar of applause and cheers. Ponies from all over town had gathered and stayed out in the cold to wait for word that she was alive and well. At a loss for words herself, she made her way through the crowd and tried to smile, as one by one, they praised her bravery. But unlike times past, the joy and appreciation she felt was for her and what she did, not for somepony they imagined her to be nor for deeds they only assumed were hers. One by one, the ponies in the crowd went on their way, until only Lathe Turner remained. Careful to avoid her bandages, Lathe Turner gave her a gentle hug. "I was worried I'd lost you again." This time, when Stoccado felt the wellspring of love in her heart, she did not turn away in guilt or regret, instead she held Lathe Turner close. "Please forgive me, for I cannot promise not to worry you again. I can promise only that I will try." "Does that mean...?" "I still cannot remember anything from before, but I think I know now who I am. And perhaps, where I belong." When Stoccado finally returned home, it was already the middle of the night, but before she fell asleep, there was one last important thing she had to do. She took her plans for leaving town, crumpled them up, and tossed them away. SummerWinter turned to Spring, and Stoccado's friends taught her how to clear ice from a stream and how to plant wheat, and when she inevitably fumbled, they only cheered her on, assuring her she was doing even better than last year. There were festivals and there were parties. Lathe Turner continued his yearlong struggle to master the art of cooking, and Stoccado learned how to dance like a fish shown water for the first time. Spring turned to Summer, and the two parents who Stoccado should have been able to call her own, came to visit. They were concerned about their daughter's well being, and though they were not entirely convinced, they left again without causing her any trouble. Perhaps more miraculously, they did not cause any trouble for Lathe Turner either. Instead it seemed like all could be right in the world. The days were warm, the nights cool, and for many, the shadow of war was a distant memory. And so it went, that on one long summer day, the woodcutter and the guardsmare went out into the meadow, they ate dinner under the setting sun where all the world was alight with magic, they stayed up late to watch the dancing fireflies outshine the stars in the sky, and he asked her to marry him. The next few months passed by in a whirlwind of activity and preparations for Stoccado. Friends and family were invited, fancy blue ribbons were sewn, and a great feast was planned. Yet as the big day drew close, the only thing that kept her up at night was the fear that something would come along and take her away, some distant tragedy, another conflict in need of every able guard. But whether by fate or by happenstance, no great danger arrived to threatened Equestria that year, nor any unmanageable beasts from the forest to threaten the town. On a sunny Autumn afternoon, with flower petals being all that the weather teams rained down upon the guests, Stoccado and Lathe Turner said their vows, broke their coin, and were married. During the feast, Lathe Turner thanked his friends for all of their help and support, during times both difficult and calm; and Stoccado told those gathered that no matter how hard it had been for her to fit into her new life, she still felt like the luckiest mare in the world. For a time, life was good for the young couple. Stoccado still ate breakfast with her friends, but she never ate dinner alone. Lathe Turner still spent long hours harvesting and working the timber, but he never stayed awake into the middle of the night worrying about what the future might bring. She helped him run his shop, he always made sure her armor was fastened tight before she ran off to practice her own trade, and on cold winter nights they would hold each other close by the hearth and tell ghost stories. But by the winter of their second year, the deception began to weigh on her heart. The love she got from him was never anything but honest, but she began to wonder if the love she gave in return was true, when she still hadn't told him the whole truth. What's more, ponies around town had begun to whisper. While it wasn't unheard of in those days, it was still unusual for a couple to go for such a long time without having any foals. In their letters, her parents had begun asking when they could expect to be grandparents, as meddling parents often do. And in spite of her efforts to act like nothing was wrong, one of her friends nervously asked after breakfast if there was anything she wished to talk about, anything at all. Lathe Turner, would say that as long as she was happy, he would be happy, but vowed to track down one of the great unicorn magi for help if she asked, an offer she quickly refused. Though he'd meant to reassure her, it only made her worry more. She was certain that a true expert would be able to uncover her deception, and then everything would come crumbling down around her. Yet every scheme, every lie she conjured up only served to bring back that once familiar knot in her stomach and pull it tighter, and at length she consigned herself to tell Lathe Turner the truth. After dinner one night, while they were resting by the hearth, Stoccado mustered her courage and looked deep into Lathe Turner's eyes. "There is something I need to tell you, something I've meant to say for some time, but it is difficult to say and I fear difficult to hear. If I am to share this secret, would you promise to let me finish, no matter what?" Lathe Turner had certainly seen his wife in a serious mood before, but even so he said, "I promise." "When I said the Stoccado you knew fell, it was closer to the truth than you know." With no turning back, she let her disguise disappear in a burst of flame, revealing herself holes and all. "She was my friend." Lathe Turner opened his mouth as if to speak, but she held up a hoof, reminding him of his promise. "I'm so sorry, would that I had told you before. Told you that I was not who you thought I was. But I will tell you this, I wasn't lying when I said my vows. I truly wanted to stay like that forever." Stoccado looked down, tears in her eyes and her ears pinned back, letting Lathe Turner know he was free to fly into a rage, or storm out the door. Instead he kissed her on the forehead and said. "I believed you then, that you were not the mare I first fell in love with, and I believe you now. Yet I fell in love with you all the same." Though she knew he was a gentle and caring soul, she was still surprised. "You're not upset? I was afraid you would never trust me again." "I will admit my heart feels all a jumble with aches and hopes, but what I do know is that I still cannot bear to see you crying." He pulled her into an embrace, and after her tears had stopped, he said. "My father was not a stallion of many words, but he did once say to me, 'Son, one day you'll grow up and fall in love, and when you do, remember that when you marry someone, you cannot simply love them for who they are, you must be prepared to love them for who they will be.' And so, whoever you will be, I will follow." They held each other close long into the night, and later Lathe Turner would recall feeling like he had returned home after a long journey, even though they hadn't gone anywhere at all. Stoccado never again had any doubts that her love was real. And that is the story of the Guard, the Woodcutter and the Changeling. They did indeed live out the rest of their days happily ever after, although telling Stoccado's friends and the rest of town the truth proved difficult for a time. Some ponies accepted the news without a second thought, but for some, it was only after many lengthy assurances by Lathe Turner that they eventually accepted her as she was. Even he expected that some ponies would never be convinced, but the tales of Steel Echo and Stoccado's friendship managed to sooth even the most wary hearts, and soon the tales began to spread far and wide. After winter was wrapped up, the two went on a long journey. First they traveled North to pay respects to a fallen friend. Then they visited the capital and old Stoccado's parents. They did not take the news well, and disavowed the two. Feeling downtrodden but determined to move on, they traveled to the southern lands, and visited some of the places where the new Stoccado grew up, before at last returning home. It was less than a year later that they welcomed the first new foal in their family, a testament to the power of honest love. And, as fate or happenstance would have it, it was their children, raised with an appreciation of what their mother's long lost twin sister had done for her, who eventually mended the ties between old Stoccado’s parents and the new family. But that, my friend, is another tale for another day. Author's Note hi hi Thank you for reading my little story, I hope you enjoyed it. I originally started it as a handout for my players in a roleplaying game, but it ended up getting rather lengthy, in spite of my best efforts to cut it down to size. The idea was to introduce some possibilities for changelings besides what we saw in A Canterlot Wedding. The way I interpreted it, even though changelings weren't unheard of, a changeling invasion was both unexpected and unprepared for, and perhaps the might that Chrysalis wielded was unprecedented when compared to what ponies knew from changeling history. This is meant to be such a possibly history. I make no claims about whether anything in the story is fact or fiction, even in said roleplaying game. I know IDW has since given changelings an origin story where they are magically created, obligate evil beings, but that always seemed like a missed opportunity to me. I did some research on changeling myths from the British Isles and Scandinavia, came up with several different philosophies that might guide changelings, and decided that none of them were mutually exclusive for changeling kind as a whole. Some of my favorites were: • "The Fair Folk," Walter Gregor, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-East of Scotland. • "The Piskies' Changeling," Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England. • "The Father of Eighteen Elves," Jón Arnason, Icelandic Legends.
AutumnSir Steel Tine the Diligent, On the Superstitions Surrounding Changelings, year 672 of Her Majesty's reign. According to official records, through which I have exhaustively searched, there have been no confirmed sightings of changelings in over two hundred years. Indeed there are many amongst my colleagues who question whether they still exist, or if they ever existed at all. The latter notion I can put to rest, as Princess Celestia herself spoke of meeting one long ago, although specific details were not forthcoming. There are a number of common themes present in tales about changelings, and many accounts that differ drastically. The following is one particularly well preserved account which I encountered while visiting a remote locale. It is peculiar in that a number of the elements correspond with real past events, though no doubt containing much of the usual embellishment that comes with second and third hand retelling. Other elements are so outlandish that they strain believability, however without vouching for the truth of this tale, I have transcribed it into a modern dialect as accurately and as faithfully as possible. Once upon a time, long long ago when Equestria was still young, there lived a woodcutter and guardsmare called Lathe Turner and Stoccado. They lived in a small peaceful village nestled between a gentle brook and a deep old forest, a place that many an Earth pony would feel right at home, even if they were visiting from far away. It was the sort of town where ponies left their doors unlocked when they stepped out to go to the market, where a wave and a friendly smile would rarely go unreturned; though it was also a place with a need for talented guard ponies to take up arms when great wild beasts would wander out of the forest. Lathe Turner was born, lived, and worked there; and by all accounts had planned to live out the rest of his days just as he always had. Stoccado was born far away, growing up in the mountains south of Canterlot where she was trained with fire, form, and sharpened steel. When she moved to the little village, she made fast friends with many of the ponies who lived there, and though Lathe Turner often kept to himself, he was no exception. As spring turned to summer, Lathe Turner and Stoccado spent more and more time together. Rather than preparing and eating his usual humble meals by himself, Lathe Turner found himself meeting Stoccado for lunch each day, while Stoccado found herself going to parties and even dancing, something she'd never done during her disciplined youth. And so it went, that on one long summer day, the woodcutter and the guardsmare went out into the meadow, they ate dinner under the setting sun where all the world was alight with magic, they stayed up late to watch the dancing fireflies outshine the stars in the sky, and she asked him to marry her. Had those two young lovers been born at any other point in time, the opening of this story might well have been the finale, and the two would have lived happily ever after, but whether by fate or happenstance their tale does not end here. Unbeknownst to anypony in that peaceful little village, trouble was stirring in the North. Mooselini, son of Rasmoosen had ascended to the Elkingdom throne during the previous cold and brutal winter, and after consolidating his power amongst the nobility, his ever growing hunger for power led his attention to a new and prospering rival, the nation of Equestria. You see, in those old days, before Celestia's reign of peace and harmony, before chaos showed its true form to the world, there were still many who believed that an iron will and an iron hoof were the greatest powers in the world. And so during that very Summer, after a series of increasingly unreasonable demands to the Council of Three, Mooselini declared war on Equestria and invaded. There were dark times in those early days, times of heavy hearts and heavy deeds not sung by any minstrel nor extolled in any poetry, where every competent guardspony from across the land was summoned to fight. Stoccado's heart ached to leave her fiance, but she knew what her cutie mark meant to her, and to those who were counting on her to keep them safe from harm. With sword and spear strapped to her back, Stoccado set out from home and Lathe Turner followed her to the edge of town, where she turned and they shared one last kiss. "Where I go, you cannot follow." She said when she finally broke away. "Stay here, stay safe, and I promise I will return to you." For a moment, Lathe Turner looked down at his hooves and was silent, and Stoccado felt another twinge of remorse, as if she had just scolded a lost puppy. "If ever hope should fade," Lathe Turner said at last, "remember my love." Knowing that if she stayed another moment, shared another word, she might lose the courage to leave, all Stoccado could do was nod. Then she turned and walked away.
WinterAfter more than a year of skirmishing, of increasingly fierce battles, of losses and victories exchanged between the two sides; there were many who felt that the course of war was racing toward some inevitable grand finale, one final page in a book of follies that would decide the fate of rulers and peasants alike. For her part in the war, Stoccado had kept up hope in the face of great odds, and had earned the respect of her peers. As is often the case with Earth Ponies, Stoccado's talents proved better suited to staying out of sight than standing front and center, clad in imposing armor. And so it came to pass that in the late autumn, though the threat of a wild blizzard lingered not far away, Stoccado moved tracelessly through a dense red and gold underbrush that had not been cleared away for the winter. Her connection to the land aided her as she moved past her enemies unnoticed, allowing her to track their movements and report back safely. It was a task she had performed countless times before, but on that particular day, fate or happenstance intervened once more. Up ahead in a small clearing, Stoccado heard raised voices. The angry bellows coming from a troop of elk were familiar to her, but there was also the unexpected sound of someone confused and scared. Stoccado crept closer until she found herself a safe vantage point, and gaped in shock as she tried to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. A pony with a cart stood surrounded by Elkish soldiers, a pony with no armor, no weapons; and in all appearances a simple merchant. What was she doing in such dangerous lands, was she lost, was she a spy, did she not realize there was a war going on? "Why are you so mad at me?" The mare pleaded with them, her voice hinging on panic as she looked frantically for any hope of escape. "I didn't do anything to hurt you." The lead moose only laughed at the pleas, and towered over her quarry. "You can play dumb all you want, little pony, but foolishness won't save you." The mare shrank back in her harness, but she was trapped. "There must be some way to work this out. I- I just wanted to trade." The lead moose had run out of laughter, leaving only a cold threat in reply. "You still don't get it. You are our prisoner, and everything else is our spoils, and if you don't give us any more trouble, you might even get a fair trial." The mare was on the verge of tears. "Please... no." More pleading was not what the lead moose wanted to hear, and before the mare could blink, the moose struck her across the face with a forehoof. However, several things happened in that instant, some of which the moose did not expect. The mare went limp as consciousness was knocked away from her, which came as no surprise, but the burst of brilliant flame that surrounded her and left a dark form in her place was unexpected indeed. Now, Stoccado knew what a changeling was, as ponies and changelings crossed paths more often in those days, but she had never seen one herself and so she didn't yet comprehend the sight before her. All she saw in that moment was someone or something in trouble at the hooves of her adversaries, and she acted. Knowing full well that the odds were stacked against her, badly outnumbered as she was, she leapt from the bushes with an angry shout and charged the moose without regard for her own safety. This was something else that they didn't expect, and before their shock had passed, she scored a clean hit. Perhaps the moose that day were an undisciplined lot, perhaps they believed they had fallen into some cunning pony ambush, but before had a chance to realize they faced only a single pony, the lead moose cried out for retreat. The moose turned and fled, tearing a trail through the underbrush heeding neither the saplings nor brambles that stood in their way, and leaving behind Stoccado, the strange mare, and the fading thunder of stampeding hooves. Now, Stoccado also knew that it would not be long before the moose returned, and in greater numbers, so she hurried to free the strange mare from her wagon harness. It was then that she got a closer look, and the realization dawned upon her that the strange mare was a changeling, but she neither stopped nor hesitated. The changeling's pleas for mercy still echoed in her ears. Once freed from the harness, Stoccado shook the changeling gently. "Wake up, wake up. We haven’t much time." For the length of a held breath, the changeling did not stir, and Stoccado was contemplating carrying the changeling on her back, but with one last prodding the changeling opened her eyes. Though stars were still caught in her vision, the changeling felt she could trust the stranger who stood over her. She felt a sliver of kindness from the mare, compassion, and the sort of love that anypony might feel for everypony at once on a sunny day. It was more than she'd felt in some time. "Do not fear, you are safe for now." Stoccado said, though she saw no fear in the changeling’s eyes. "Can you stand? We must be on our way soon." Unsteadily at first, the changeling rose to all fours. "And my wagon? It's all that I have." Stoccado shook her head. "If we wish to escape, we cannot carry that burden. They will be searching for us now." The changeling paused for a moment as she regarded everything she owned in the world. The wagon itself had served her faithfully for a long time, but the contents were transient things, barely more than scraps that in truth, she worried she'd have been unable to trade in the first place. "Just promise that you will not send me away, and I will not have lost everything." Stoccado held a hoof solemnly over her heart. "In payment for your possessions, until the debt is repaid, I will not abandon you. Though I travel a dangerous path, and you may change your mind about following me." The changeling looked away as Stoccado drew close to her wagon. "You have already saved me, perhaps I might return the favor." Stoccado didn't have time to consider how that promise might change her life, instead she was counting the passing seconds as the threat of a counter-attack grew. Yet before retreating into the woods, she made one last move to spite the Elkish soldiers by drawing a torch and setting fire to the wagon and its contents. It was a long, silent walk to escape the lands held by the moose, and twice the pair had to stop and hide as furious patrols passed close by. But eventually they did reach friendly lands, and it was only then that the two had a chance to speak without fear of capture. However, Stoccado had gotten no farther than asking the changeling's name when they ran into a very different kind of trouble. "I don't have a name of my own." The changeling said, shying away as if expecting an angry outburst. Stoccado merely shook her head in disbelief. "How can one not have a name? Everypony has a name." "Where I come from, no changeling has a true name. Only whatever someone chooses to call us, and we rarely agree on anything." The changeling frowned as she recalled the past, "My mother called me 'little one,' I once had a companion who called me 'lost,' and lately ponies have simply called me 'merchant.' Perhaps you could give me a name. Are ponies not renowned for their meaningful names?" Though she hoped to be, once the war was over, Stoccado was not a mother and she had never given anyone a real name before. The changeling was certainly not a foal either, and oath or no oath, Stoccado didn't feel that the changeling was hers. She merely said the first thing that came to mind. "Perhaps Steel Echo will suit you." The changeling nodded, and for the first time, Stoccado saw her smile. She would remain Steel Echo for a long while after. With the unexpected challenge of discovering Steel Echo's name behind them, Stoccado set out to discover just what kind of pony she had rescued. Steel Echo admitted that she did not know how to fight, and that she had not been very successful as a trader either. She was still young, and the world was a bewildering and frightening place, in which she had become accustomed to surviving on the kindness of strangers. She truly hadn't known about the recent war between Equestria and the Elkingdom, and was hoping for better luck, along with some measure of appreciation, by traveling Northward with goods from the far South. Instead, she nearly met an untimely end, and wasn't sure how things could possibly get worse. "They most certainly can get worse." Stoccado was lecturing a recruit. "I can convince my superiors that you are a guard pony, like me. I can convince them that you are an unlucky merchant, and I may even be able to convince them that you are a long lost relative, but if you truly wish to stay with me, a guard pony you must be. Being a guard is not easy." Steel Echo refused to be dissuaded. "Once when I was young, I stole a piece of candy from a kindly merchant. Mother scolded me and said, 'Little one, anyone can recover a treasure of gems and coins, but we live forever in debt to those who are loving and kind.'" "The work we will do as guards will by anything but kind." "Then why did you not leave me to fend for myself?" Stoccado had no answer for that, and she could see that Steel Echo's mind was set, so Stoccado spent the rest of the walk back to camp teaching her everything she could about being a guard, who was in charge and how she would be expected to act. There were a great many questions asked when the two finally did return, but Stoccado held the respect of her peers, and at length, her superiors were persuaded to overlook Steel Echo's lack of any coat of arms, heraldry, or formal letter. Stoccado had made an oath, and she felt duty bound to honor it. She taught her new recruit everything she could about fire, form, and sharpened steel in what little time they had, but even then she did not truly expect it to last. Rather, she expected Steel Echo to reconsider their agreement after her first taste of battle. But when the time came, though Steel Echo was left shaken as Stoccado expected, she still refused to change her mind. Stoccado could not help but respect her determination, and the two grew to become close friends. Nopony suspected that the squire who followed Stoccado everywhere was not actually a pony at all, though her peers noted that she was sometimes more akin to a lost puppy. Those who liked puppies said so openly to them with genuine mirth, while those who disliked puppies whispered it behind their backs with distaste. But when the ponies would gather around the campfire to tell tales, to lift up their spirits, and scare the wicked spirits away, Steel Echo could feel the connection they all shared. Time passed. Autumn gave way to Winter, leaf clad trees bent and snapped under the weight of the snow, and the fighting grew steadily worse. The leaders of both armies were desperate for a decisive victory. For the Elk, their king's popularity was plummeting alongside the temperatures. For the ponies, there were many who feared the Windigo's return, and plans were laid down to end the conflict before Hearth's Warming, no matter the cost. In the middle of it all, Stoccado and Steel Echo found themselves scouting less and on the front lines more. Steel Echo fought hard trying to repay a debt that could never be repaid, but no matter how skilled she became, Stoccado continued to support her more than she could in return. Stoccado never complained. For Stoccado, trust was something that no amount of skill could replace. It was a bitterly cold night in the middle of winter when the entire Elkish army met the Equestrians' in a pitched battle near the ruins of a long contested city, the battle that would decide the war. Stoccado and Steel echo fought in the plains, they fought in the streets, they fought side by side, and they fought back to back. But just before the dawn's first light, Stoccado saw a strike that was meant for Steel Echo, and she pushed her friend out of harm’s way. Only a heartbeat too slow to move clear herself, Stoccado was struck, and the two were toppled into a heap on the ground. Steel Echo held Stoccado still, and their assailant's attention turned elsewhere. Tides shifted quickly, the clamor of battle grew distant, and as the sun rose up to begin the day, there was silence. Drawn into focus by daylight, Steel Echo saw that Stoccado's wounds were grave, and was shaken from her daze. But when she cried out for help, the only soul to hear was Stoccado. "Echo, is that you?" With some effort, Stoccado opened her weary eyes. "I fear my time draws short. I cannot move." Though the world still lurched from side to side, Steel Echo worked carefully to free herself. "Do not speak of such things. Only hold on just a little longer, and I will go and fetch help." "With every thread of strength left in me, I will." Stoccado's voice was scarcely a whisper, but when Steel Echo stood to leave, her voice rose to the occasion. "Please wait and listen! There are things I must say, ere I lose the chance forever. Already I can feel my strength waning, and if help does not find us soon, there will be nopony to explain why there is no record of Steel Echo in any library or ledger, why she has no home and no family to return to. I took what life you had..." Tears flowed down Steel Echo's cheeks. "You saved me, gave me your friendship. I could not have asked for more." Although she could feel the end inching toward her, Stoccado was worried only for the well-being of others. "You asked me once for a pony name. I give you mine. Guardsmare Stoccado is not so poor that she could not start over again in some far off land, if she so chose. Only for my friends, my family, sweet Lathe Turner; ease the burden of my passing." Steel Echo had to stop herself from shaking her friend. "Do not make me beg, promise me you will hang on." "I have already made too many promises that I cannot keep." Stoccado's voice came between ragged breaths. "Forgive me. Where I go, you cannot follow." Steel Echo felt stayed by her friend and held her close, until she breathed her last.
SpringClambering over rubble and half-burnt timber, Stoccado clambered her way out of the ruins cautiously, expecting an attack to come at any moment. Instead of a fight, all she found were shadows. At length she wandered into an Equestrian encampment and was astonished to see several elken soldiers walking freely about. Some nearby guards were quick to explain, the fighting had exacted such a terrible toll that when first light revealed the extent of the destruction, the commanders from both sides called for a hasty truce. The war was finally over, whether the leaders of both nations wanted such a thing or not. When Stoccado asked the guards to explain which war they were talking about, they first dismissed it as a bad joke. Realization and shock crept upon them only slowly, but finally they called for a medic. The diagnosis, that a blow to her head had caused her to lose her memories. They kept her in an infirmary for days, her commander occasionally sitting at her bedside, asking her questions in hopes that her memories might have returned. Unfortunately, as the time passed, it became clear that no amount of rest and no simple Unicorn magic would cure her condition. With other more immediate concerns on the rise, and as Stoccado proved her competence in spite of her memory loss, they could not justify holding her forever. Before that year's early winter wrap-up, she was walking the long road back South, with a generously provided map to a place that was supposed to be her home. Rumors and news of the war's end traveled much faster than a long bedridden veteran, and along the way she crossed paths with many kindly strangers who praised her for acts of bravery, and every time she shook her head and told them there was no need for thanks. And though she wore a smile, each time her sense of unease grew. She began to doubt herself, and wondered if it might be easier to settle down in some random town and never face the looming horde strangers who knew the pony she was supposed to be, who would expect her to remember them in return. That gnawing doubt kept her up late into the night, and yet each morning she pressed onward, unable to decide upon different path. It was a warm winter evening when Stoccado arrived at the edge of a small peaceful village, nestled between a gentle brook and a deep old forest. She ought to have felt right at home in such a place, but instead she worried that with one misstep the warm and welcoming facade would be pulled away. She wasn't sure if she had the courage to face what lie underneath. Once again, before she could decide on another path, a group of ponies spotted her. In their eyes she saw recognition and excitement, felt the sort of love one feels for an old friend. It made the knot in her chest tug harder, but she realized she could not turn around and go back. Into town she walked, and in doing so she crossed paths with many who waved cheerfully, and many more who stepped aside and watched with concern. They knew she was not acting herself, but were too polite to pry. When Lathe Turner galloped up to meet her, Stoccado felt a rush of honest love unlike any she felt before, and for a moment the knot in her chest was somewhere far away. Her old friend never spoke for long about her life back home, just a slice of life every now and again. Instead, her lessons were always about the fight ahead. She wondered just how close they had been. Her mother once told her she would recognize love when she saw it, but she still she doubted herself. The elation that followed such raw emotion inevitably mingled with the guilt she carried in her own heart. As soon as she realized she had been smiling, the smile faded away. "I am not the Stoccado you knew." Stoccado stepped forward and embraced the stranger, knowing it would be a cold comfort. "She fell in battle." When she stepped away to leave, Lathe Turner kept pace with her easily, but struggled to find his voice. "Please wait. Would that I understood what has happened, but surely you are worth knowing as well." Stoccado had no answer for him, and so, as she searched the streets for her home, she explained her story. Her memories were as lost as she was, and she planned to leave town soon. After all, would she not prove a source of unhappiness for her friends? Likewise, Lathe Turner had no answer for her, but he tried to convince her not to make any rash decisions. After all, what difference would a few extra days make but for a chance to find the answers? With nothing decided, they bid each other good night at Stoccado's front door. Only after the door was locked behind her did Stoccado try to relax, yet she still felt as though she were a ghost, occupying a home that was both hers and not her own. It was emptier than she had imagined, stocked with simple furniture and few pictures on the walls, but once she set a fire in the hearth, it was not so cold. She spent the night reading letters addressed to a pony with her name. Lathe Turner found no sleep that night either. Though he had tried to prepare himself for both the best and the worst, he found that he was altogether unprepared for what fate or happenstance had set upon him. Unable to lose himself in his favorite pastimes, he tossed, turned, and stared at the ceiling while he lie in bed, unanswered questions dancing endlessly in his head. Morning arrived suddenly with a knock on the door. Old friends insisted that Stoccado come with them to eat breakfast, and if she could not remember things, they were only too happy to provide reminders. Apparently, the news had spread through the town, but those old friends still whispered about who, what, and where, as though her condition were still a secret. Everywhere she went, she was greeted with a friendly smile and a wave all the same. Later, Lathe Turner invited her out to lunch and the two talked, awkwardly at first, about nothing important. They talked about the changing seasons, news from a neighboring town, and Lathe Turner found himself talking when he would rather be listening. Yet it was only long after all the other patrons had departed when they finally went their separate ways, having both agreed to meet again the next day. When evening arrived, Stoccado ate dinner alone in a house that felt not at all like a home. It was a cold and tasteless meal, as is often the case in the late winter, when the stored food is running out and nothing fresh has yet grown; a meal taken more out of habit than of hunger, and she resolved to leave before staying in town became a habit as well. Even as she prepared to leave, the days fell into a routine in spite of her efforts. She ate breakfast with friends that were now her own, lunch with Lathe Turner, and her evenings she spent alone, planning her escape. They were plans she might have followed through with, if not for the wild beast that came from the forest. It was during dinner that the mayor came pounding on her door, pleading for her help. She picked up her blade without a second thought and charged headlong into danger. She knew it was what the pony she was supposed to be would have done. Tearing its way into a home on the edge of town there loomed a massive snow leopard with teeth and claws of jagged ice, yet even such a formidable creature was given pause by the ferocity of tiny pony wielding a blade of biting steel. They fought in the streets, they fought in the fields, and though neither of the two came away unscathed, the beast was eventually driven back into the forest to lick its wounds. Only after she was certain it would not return, did Stoccado retire herself, seeking the town's doctor to tend to her own injuries. At length she went to leave the doctor's parlor, but when she opened the door, she was stopped in her tracks by a sudden roar of applause and cheers. Ponies from all over town had gathered and stayed out in the cold to wait for word that she was alive and well. At a loss for words herself, she made her way through the crowd and tried to smile, as one by one, they praised her bravery. But unlike times past, the joy and appreciation she felt was for her and what she did, not for somepony they imagined her to be nor for deeds they only assumed were hers. One by one, the ponies in the crowd went on their way, until only Lathe Turner remained. Careful to avoid her bandages, Lathe Turner gave her a gentle hug. "I was worried I'd lost you again." This time, when Stoccado felt the wellspring of love in her heart, she did not turn away in guilt or regret, instead she held Lathe Turner close. "Please forgive me, for I cannot promise not to worry you again. I can promise only that I will try." "Does that mean...?" "I still cannot remember anything from before, but I think I know now who I am. And perhaps, where I belong." When Stoccado finally returned home, it was already the middle of the night, but before she fell asleep, there was one last important thing she had to do. She took her plans for leaving town, crumpled them up, and tossed them away.
SummerWinter turned to Spring, and Stoccado's friends taught her how to clear ice from a stream and how to plant wheat, and when she inevitably fumbled, they only cheered her on, assuring her she was doing even better than last year. There were festivals and there were parties. Lathe Turner continued his yearlong struggle to master the art of cooking, and Stoccado learned how to dance like a fish shown water for the first time. Spring turned to Summer, and the two parents who Stoccado should have been able to call her own, came to visit. They were concerned about their daughter's well being, and though they were not entirely convinced, they left again without causing her any trouble. Perhaps more miraculously, they did not cause any trouble for Lathe Turner either. Instead it seemed like all could be right in the world. The days were warm, the nights cool, and for many, the shadow of war was a distant memory. And so it went, that on one long summer day, the woodcutter and the guardsmare went out into the meadow, they ate dinner under the setting sun where all the world was alight with magic, they stayed up late to watch the dancing fireflies outshine the stars in the sky, and he asked her to marry him. The next few months passed by in a whirlwind of activity and preparations for Stoccado. Friends and family were invited, fancy blue ribbons were sewn, and a great feast was planned. Yet as the big day drew close, the only thing that kept her up at night was the fear that something would come along and take her away, some distant tragedy, another conflict in need of every able guard. But whether by fate or by happenstance, no great danger arrived to threatened Equestria that year, nor any unmanageable beasts from the forest to threaten the town. On a sunny Autumn afternoon, with flower petals being all that the weather teams rained down upon the guests, Stoccado and Lathe Turner said their vows, broke their coin, and were married. During the feast, Lathe Turner thanked his friends for all of their help and support, during times both difficult and calm; and Stoccado told those gathered that no matter how hard it had been for her to fit into her new life, she still felt like the luckiest mare in the world. For a time, life was good for the young couple. Stoccado still ate breakfast with her friends, but she never ate dinner alone. Lathe Turner still spent long hours harvesting and working the timber, but he never stayed awake into the middle of the night worrying about what the future might bring. She helped him run his shop, he always made sure her armor was fastened tight before she ran off to practice her own trade, and on cold winter nights they would hold each other close by the hearth and tell ghost stories. But by the winter of their second year, the deception began to weigh on her heart. The love she got from him was never anything but honest, but she began to wonder if the love she gave in return was true, when she still hadn't told him the whole truth. What's more, ponies around town had begun to whisper. While it wasn't unheard of in those days, it was still unusual for a couple to go for such a long time without having any foals. In their letters, her parents had begun asking when they could expect to be grandparents, as meddling parents often do. And in spite of her efforts to act like nothing was wrong, one of her friends nervously asked after breakfast if there was anything she wished to talk about, anything at all. Lathe Turner, would say that as long as she was happy, he would be happy, but vowed to track down one of the great unicorn magi for help if she asked, an offer she quickly refused. Though he'd meant to reassure her, it only made her worry more. She was certain that a true expert would be able to uncover her deception, and then everything would come crumbling down around her. Yet every scheme, every lie she conjured up only served to bring back that once familiar knot in her stomach and pull it tighter, and at length she consigned herself to tell Lathe Turner the truth. After dinner one night, while they were resting by the hearth, Stoccado mustered her courage and looked deep into Lathe Turner's eyes. "There is something I need to tell you, something I've meant to say for some time, but it is difficult to say and I fear difficult to hear. If I am to share this secret, would you promise to let me finish, no matter what?" Lathe Turner had certainly seen his wife in a serious mood before, but even so he said, "I promise." "When I said the Stoccado you knew fell, it was closer to the truth than you know." With no turning back, she let her disguise disappear in a burst of flame, revealing herself holes and all. "She was my friend." Lathe Turner opened his mouth as if to speak, but she held up a hoof, reminding him of his promise. "I'm so sorry, would that I had told you before. Told you that I was not who you thought I was. But I will tell you this, I wasn't lying when I said my vows. I truly wanted to stay like that forever." Stoccado looked down, tears in her eyes and her ears pinned back, letting Lathe Turner know he was free to fly into a rage, or storm out the door. Instead he kissed her on the forehead and said. "I believed you then, that you were not the mare I first fell in love with, and I believe you now. Yet I fell in love with you all the same." Though she knew he was a gentle and caring soul, she was still surprised. "You're not upset? I was afraid you would never trust me again." "I will admit my heart feels all a jumble with aches and hopes, but what I do know is that I still cannot bear to see you crying." He pulled her into an embrace, and after her tears had stopped, he said. "My father was not a stallion of many words, but he did once say to me, 'Son, one day you'll grow up and fall in love, and when you do, remember that when you marry someone, you cannot simply love them for who they are, you must be prepared to love them for who they will be.' And so, whoever you will be, I will follow." They held each other close long into the night, and later Lathe Turner would recall feeling like he had returned home after a long journey, even though they hadn't gone anywhere at all. Stoccado never again had any doubts that her love was real. And that is the story of the Guard, the Woodcutter and the Changeling. They did indeed live out the rest of their days happily ever after, although telling Stoccado's friends and the rest of town the truth proved difficult for a time. Some ponies accepted the news without a second thought, but for some, it was only after many lengthy assurances by Lathe Turner that they eventually accepted her as she was. Even he expected that some ponies would never be convinced, but the tales of Steel Echo and Stoccado's friendship managed to sooth even the most wary hearts, and soon the tales began to spread far and wide. After winter was wrapped up, the two went on a long journey. First they traveled North to pay respects to a fallen friend. Then they visited the capital and old Stoccado's parents. They did not take the news well, and disavowed the two. Feeling downtrodden but determined to move on, they traveled to the southern lands, and visited some of the places where the new Stoccado grew up, before at last returning home. It was less than a year later that they welcomed the first new foal in their family, a testament to the power of honest love. And, as fate or happenstance would have it, it was their children, raised with an appreciation of what their mother's long lost twin sister had done for her, who eventually mended the ties between old Stoccado’s parents and the new family. But that, my friend, is another tale for another day. Author's Note hi hi Thank you for reading my little story, I hope you enjoyed it. I originally started it as a handout for my players in a roleplaying game, but it ended up getting rather lengthy, in spite of my best efforts to cut it down to size. The idea was to introduce some possibilities for changelings besides what we saw in A Canterlot Wedding. The way I interpreted it, even though changelings weren't unheard of, a changeling invasion was both unexpected and unprepared for, and perhaps the might that Chrysalis wielded was unprecedented when compared to what ponies knew from changeling history. This is meant to be such a possibly history. I make no claims about whether anything in the story is fact or fiction, even in said roleplaying game. I know IDW has since given changelings an origin story where they are magically created, obligate evil beings, but that always seemed like a missed opportunity to me. I did some research on changeling myths from the British Isles and Scandinavia, came up with several different philosophies that might guide changelings, and decided that none of them were mutually exclusive for changeling kind as a whole. Some of my favorites were: • "The Fair Folk," Walter Gregor, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-East of Scotland. • "The Piskies' Changeling," Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England. • "The Father of Eighteen Elves," Jón Arnason, Icelandic Legends.
