The First Horn

-------------------------Prologue-------------------------

Eons before the three tribes of Equestria, all ponies were of the Earth variety. The weather was unkept, the only pattern being what notes the ponies took. The sun and moon were erratic, and often in the sky at the same time. Even the hours of light were different each and every day, if only slightly. The only thing that was monitored was the food supply, toiled over nearly every day by the ponies.

Many of them were your run-of-the-mill mother, father, son and daughter variety. Some had only sons, or only daughters. Very few had no children at all. However, a condition of greater rarity than no children was the single-child family. The reason was simple: if the family had a boy, they tried for another; a girl, and they would try for a boy. If a family had no children, they usually ended up selling their land to another farm, and lived out the rest of their lives helping the community in various ways.

This family, however, was different. Their one child was a boy, and he was scrawny enough to be mistaken for a girl if you'd not known who he was. His coat and eyes were a light brown, his mane and tail of a dull mustard color, and his flank was bare(not the oddity back then as it is today). Because of his size, he wasn't much use on the farm, and was often sent out to get supplies from town instead. He was forced to make this trip many times due to his size. It was made even more difficult thanks to having farmland miles from the town.

During these trips, he did his best to avoid as many other ponies as possible, as they often mocked him. One of their favorite jeers involved him being too small to lift more than a single ear of corn, according to rumor. Because of this, he earned the nickname "One Corn" around town. At home, he was simply called "Son" due to his parents' apathy of him. Soon enough, however, even they began calling him One Corn out of habit of hearing it so much from visitors.

Eventually, he came to enjoy the romps to and from town, and often took as much time as he could on them. They became his only solace from his miserable life, as he saw it. He began thinking of things, which wasn't very much use to the ponies of then, thus further establishing him as an outcast.

This pony is the focus of our story today. He will go on to do great things, and you will read about them, but that is to be revealed later. Now let us start at the beginning of this influential chapter in One Corn's life, and indeed, Equestria's history and fate. Shall we?

-------------------------Chapter One: Discovery-------------------------

Now, as was said before, One Corn was nowhere near the strongest worker in the town, or even the outskirts. Many ponies think that it is exaggerated when it is said that he couldn't lift a "single ear of corn", and for the most part that's right. However, even if he could lift a few ears more than was said about him, he still wanted more. He had dreams of being the strongest pony in all history, stronger than even the earth itself. However, given his inability, that was nothing more than a dream.

His parents had once told him as a young colt that he should try using his brain more often, and so, he did. Instead of lifting things, as a normal pony might, he devised somewhat-clever strategies to get the job done. This was mainly through the art of inventing, though it wasn't much help.

One of these "inventions" involved a strap, some string, and a wheel. Now, this may seem like a normal pully setup to you, and indeed it was. However, this was revolutionary back then, and also didn't work quite as well. One Corn had forgotten to take into account the fact that the energy to pull the object up wasn't really multiplied, but merely transferred, and so he never succeeded in utilizing the pulley to its potential. Now, there were many other inventions, but we've not the time for them here. So let us skip ahead past all the failures and humiliations and other such things, and instead move towards his self-discovery.

As he was dragging along the supplies from another daunting trip to town, he began imagining himself once again as a much stronger pony than he actually was. He thought of how easy it would be to simply yank up on his dragging saddlebags, and set them lightly upon his flanks. Oh, how blissfully light they would be! So light in fact, that they could practically lift themselves, flying in the sky towards his house! So engrossed was he in his fantasy that he soon realized that he had dropped the bags, and quickly his eyes snapped open and his head turned round to see if they had fallen to the creatures again, Instead, he merely saw something which assured him he was dreaming.

His saddlebags were there, and the strap was indeed still in his mouth, but it looked to him like they were...well, for lack of a better word, floating. He cautiously tugged on the strap and they drifted towards him a bit. He dropped the strap and ducked into a nearby bush, cowering in fear of whatever great power might be out there. He heard a thunk and peered cautiously back to the bags, which were now...on the ground?

He stepped out and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of fatigue, for that was clearly the problem here. Otherwise, he could've sworn that his bags were actually floating in--there they went again, right before his eyes. This time, however, he didn't turn tail into the bush. Instead, he reached out a hoof and tapped one gently, which was a surprising show of strength for him. It began hovering away. He yelped and grabbed it before it could float off into the sky as he had imagined before, when suddenly his forelegs began lifting.

He looked up, and the bag was heading to the sky! Another yelp and a leap, and the wayward thing was brought back to the ground. He carefully got up and stepped away from the bags, which were now floating in front of him again. He suddenly had another idea. He thought of the bags dropping, and so they did. He closed his eyes and began "lifting" them in his fantasy, onto his flanks, when he felt them graze his actual flanks. He looked back, and there they were, practically weightless.

Experimentally, he began inching forwards, and the bags may as well have not been there at all. He tiphoofed, he walked, trotted, even came close to running at one point, but the bags stayed put. He even tried a jump for joy, and still they remained attached to him. At that, he settled it. He would perhaps try lifting some other things once he got home, but for now, he had to GET home. So he began trotting, though one might even say "bouncing", his way home, eager to show his parents that he could now be a proper workhorse.