The Hearth's Warming Gift

by Leaf Whisper

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Original Character
Length: 2898

Thirty-two years ago, she gave him a Hearth's Warming that changed his life. Today, she has found him just in time to give him one last gift.

Alone in his hospital room is not how Stone Mason wanted to spend his last Hearth's Warming Eve. As they always do around this time of year, his thoughts turn to the mare he met thirty-two years ago, the one that changed his life for the better.

And then he hears a familiar voice coming from the hallway. She has found him once more, as he always hoped she would, just in time to give him one last gift. Because nopony should have to spend Hearth's Warming alone.

A Christmas charity story commissioned by themouthofmush. Inspired by the song by the Aviators.

Published 2016-12-25 13:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-25 13:50:01 UTC

The Gift, Part 1

He was never going to see her again.

The sheets in the bed were warm and soft and far, far too clean and white; they smelled of lavender soap, the sharp aroma stinging his nostrils. The air inside the small room circulated through the ventilators which provided a constant hum in the background, that mixed with the rhythmic beeping of the machinery that surrounded him, and the steady hissing and huffing of the metal behemoth that breathed for him. The radio on the table next to him was crooning out a scratchy rendition of Faust Rest Ye Merry Gentleponies, every line punctuated by static.

He turned to the window. Snow flurries danced against the glass, like white ghosts passing by his room, their ethereal bodies reflecting the lights of the lamps far below. He could just barely see the streetlights beneath, standing sentinel even as the snow gathered at their bases. The electric light bulbs did not waver in the face of the wind, piercing the darkness of the night. Bright green wreaths hung from each of the poles, pinecones, holly berries and bows clinging to the leaves that danced in the wind.

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, just like all the ones that had passed in thirty two years since he had seen her. On this night every year, he had felt some faint hope that he would meet her again, that she would appear in some store window or around the corner with the scent of cotton candy in her mane. But that hope had faded away over time. And now it was just him in the too-clean room, listening to the radio on what he knew would be his last Hearth’s Warming.

He closed his eyes and settled down into the pillows. Perhaps his last dreams would be of her; if he listened closely, he could almost hear her melodic voice…

“Mason? Mason?”

His eyes opened and he raised himself from the bed, his heart leaping in his chest. He was not imagining it! That voice was real, as were the hoofsteps echoing off the hallway walls.

“Pinkie?” he called out through the open door, his voice a rasp.

A silhouette appeared at the hallway, and then the figure herself rounded the corner. Thirty-two years had taken a toll on her: the bright pink of her coat had faded somewhat, and white streaks like snow were running through her mane and tail. But her smile shone brightly through the wrinkles that were slowly running up her face, and the baby blue eyes still held that same shining spark; he felt the warm glow from her gaze as soon as she set her eyes upon him.

“Mason!” she cried, galloping across the room and flinging her forelegs around him. He grunted in pain as she impacted against him, but raised his hooves and hugged her in reply as he buried his muzzle in her poofy mane. Her hair smelled of peppermint and gingerbread.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Pinkie,” he whispered.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Mason!” Pinkie cried, pulling back slightly to examine him.

His body was thin and frail as a dry stick; his slate black coat clung to his long bones, and all that remained of his hair was a silver band around the back of his skull.

“You look great!” Pinkie smiled.

A genuine smile stretched across the Mason’s face. “It is good to see you again, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie Pie pulled up a chair seemingly from out of nowhere and sat down next to his bed. “I’ve been looking for you for thirty-two years,” she said softly. “I knew I had to see you one last time, and now I’ve found you.”

Mason’s grin widened to reveal his teeth. “I always hoped that you’d come,” he wheezed, punctuating his sentence with a series of hacking coughs. Pinkie gripped his hoof gently until the coughing fit passed and he dissolved into slow, heavy breaths.

“Here, I brought you this,” Pinkie said, reaching behind her. Out of nowhere, she conjured up a plate with a small plate with a mince pie sitting atop it, steam rising from the sugary surface. The top of the crust was carefully carved into the shape of a five-pointed star with a swirl design in the center. The warm scent of plums filled Mason’s nose.

“You remembered,” he whispered, taking the plate. The warmth seeped into his hooves and all the way down into his heart.

“Of course I did!” Pinkie chirped. “Thirty-two years isn’t that long a time!”

“No,” Mason said. “No, it isn’t.”

The snow and wind whipped at his face, as if just to spite him more. He wandered down the main street, ignorant of the symbols of joy and merriment that surrounded him, deaf to the caroling and laughter from the other ponies in the town.

She had rejected him, after he’d come all the way to this backwater town in his quest to make things right for once, to restore what had been lost between them. Just slammed the holly-decorated door in his face as soon as she had seen him, throwing all his efforts aside at once. And now he was lost, wandering down the street, still carrying the gift that had been intended for her upon his back.

He paused outside a building that had been decorated to look like a gingerbread house, and looked at his reflection in the window that was displaying a collection of baked pies and cakes. Slate black coat over a full, plump body, contrasting with the white snow that clung to his back. His pale blonde mane danced in the wind, framing his drooping face. He could see the reflections of other ponies behind him, all of them walking past, caught up in their own joy to notice him. The tears that run from his dark purple eyes were already freezing in the bitter cold.

Then, another pair of eyes met his. Sparkling baby blue, full of joy and warmth, accompanied by the widest smile he had ever seen in his life. The pink pony with the fluffy, cotton candy-like mane on the other side of the window waved enthusiastically at him.

The cold of the winter was banished instantly as his breath seemed to solidify in his chest. His heart leapt up within his chest, as if it had been sleeping before and was awoken by this mare’s smile.

She beckoned him to come inside, and he obeyed, pushing through the door and jingling the bell over his head. He found himself inside a bakery, with boxes and shelves of baked goods everywhere. Tantalizing scents of sugar, peppermint, and chocolate filled his nostrils, and the warmth from the furnace penetrated the icy layer that covered his body.

“Hi!” the pink pony chirped, bouncing up to him and offering him a mince pie, the crust designed with a five-pointed star with a swirl design in the center. Steam rose from the treat, indicating that it was fresh from the oven.

“I’m Pinkie Pie!” she continued, guiding him over to a table. “What’s your name?”

It took him a few seconds to remember that he had to reply; his lungs were still having some trouble functioning, as though the young baker was stealing his air. “S-Stone Mason,” he stammered out.

“Well, welcome to Sugarcube Corner, Mason!” Pinkie said. “Mason, like Mason jars! Do you have any jars? What do you put in those jars? Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“Er...yeah,” Mason stammered. “The hot chocolate, I mean, please.”

“One hot chocolate, coming up!” Pinkie said, bouncing off and returning a moment later with a mug of steaming hot chocolate, which she set down on the table next to the meat pie. “Well, c’mon, eat up! You’re all wet and cold!”

Stone Mason reluctantly pulled himself away from the sparks in her baby blue eyes to his food, taking up a fork and sampling the mince pie. The taste of warm plums, accented by sugar, filled his mouth with pleasure. He closed his eyes and moaned softly with delight. “This is great!”

“Glad that you think so!” Pinkie said, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hooves. “So, who’s that gift for? Who are you spending Hearth’s Warming Eve with?”

The elation that had been carrying Mason suddenly crashed around him as he was reminded of the weight he was carrying on his back, of his failure. He took the present in his hooves, examining the careful green and golden paper wrapped around the small rectangular box, accentuated with a pink bow.

“She didn’t want it,” he muttered, tossing the present down onto the table. “I’m...I’m not spending Hearth’s Warming with anypony.”

The smile vanished from Pinkie’s face. She slowly reached forward and took Mason’s hoof in both of her own. “Nopony should be alone on Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she whispered, carefully rubbing his cold hoof.

Mason forgot how to breathe again. Her hooves were so warm, and she smelled of cotton candy and peppermint.

“Oh, I know!” Pinkie cried, her eyes brightening as another smile crossed her face. “I can spend Hearth’s Warming with you!”

Mason blinked. “I…”

“It’ll be fun!” Pinkie continued, still holding his hoof. “We can go make snow angels and have a snow fort, and go sledding and make a gingerbread house together...what do you say?”

Mason felt a smile, a genuine smile crossing his face as he was infected by the same joy that Pinkie carried with her. “Okay.”

The Gift, Part 2

Mason took the fork that Pinkie had handed him and scooped out a large helping of the mince pie. Lifting it up to his mouth, he paused for a moment to study the delectable aroma, then slid the helping into his mouth. As with before, Mason closed his eyes and hummed in delight as the warm taste of plums and sugar filled his mouth.

“This is just as good as I remember,” he said to Pinkie, taking up another heaping forkful.

Pinkie giggled. “I’m glad that my baking skills are still good after all these years.”

“It’s certainly better than hospital food,” Mason chuckled.

Something on Pinkie’s chest caught his eye. Hanging around her neck was a pearl necklace, with a diamond-shaped sapphire set in silver, the ensemble still as shining and polished as the day he had bought it. His eyes widened as he recognized the necklace. “You kept that.”

Pinkie nodded, briefly stroking the jewel. “Of course I did, silly. Why would I want to get rid of your gift?”

They had spent all of Hearth’s Warming Eve together. Everything that Pinkie had promised had been provided. They went sledding down a set of great hills; the delighted screams of the young fillies and foals that had joined them still rang in Mason’s ears. They painted the landscape with snow angels and arranged a riotous two hour-long snow war that left them all soaking wet and aching with laughter. They crafted a gingerbread house and sampled dozens of candies and treats.

The day had passed all too quickly, however, and night had blanketed the sky in a dark blue field studded with twinkling stars. They sat on a bench in the park beside the frozen fountain, watching the sparkling stars far above them.

“And that one! I think it looks like a dog...no, like a bear!” Pinkie declared, tracing a pattern of stars with her hoof.

Mason watched her in fascination. Even at night, her sapphire blue eyes seemed to glow faintly, as though they each contained a bright spark that could not dim.

A wind whispered across the land, and he shivered. Noticing this, Pinkie Pie snuggled up against him, tossing her balloon and candy-decorated scarf around them both. Color and heat rushed to Mason’s face and he seemed to forget how to breathe again. The scent of cotton candy and peppermint in her mane caused his head to spin.

“Did you have fun today, Mason?” Pinkie asked, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I...I did,” Mason said, with a smile, nestling his chin in Pinkie’s mane.

“Good. That’s what Hearth’s Warming Eve is all about!” Pinkie declared. Her eyes lowered towards the gift that was still poking out of Mason’s saddlebag. “Hey, what is that anyway?”

Mason looked down at the wrapped present, his face falling. In truth, he had forgotten all about it. “Oh, it’s just…” An idea suddenly crossed his mind. He pulled the gift out of his saddlebag and gave it to Pinkie. “I meant it for somepony else, but you can have it.”

Pinkie accepted the gift, eagerly ripping the wrapping from the package and opening up the box. She gasped when she saw the contents; a pearl necklace, with an attached sapphire set in silver.

“I just want to give you something so that you can remember this night,” Mason stated, tenderly placing the necklace over her shoulders. The pure white pearls accented her coat wonderfully, and the sapphire jewel was the exact same color as her eyes.

“Awww, thanks Mason!” Pinkie squeed, admiring the light from the lamps reflecting off of the jewel. Her smile seemed to light up the world, brighter and more beautiful than the stars above them, but then it faded away. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Mason replied, putting a foreleg around her and hugging her close. “You’ve already given me more than I can ever thank you for.”

Pinkie smiled up at him for a moment, then leaned up. Her lips brushed against his cheek, the warm air of her breath melting the snowflakes that clung to his coat. His heart leaped to his throat once more, halting his breath.

“Maybe you can remember that,” Pinkie said softly, curling up against him once more.

Mason swallowed, forcing his heart back into its normal position as another smile, even wider than before, crossed his face. He nestled his head against Pinkie, both of them turning to look back up at the stars.

“Hey!” Pinkie declared, pointing up. “Don’t those stars look like two ponies sitting with each other?”

“Yes, they do, Pinkie,” Mason nodded, his hoof dropping to grip hers.

Mason finished off the mince pie, sighing with delight as he swallowed the last bite. “Delicious.”

“How have you been since then?” Pinkie asked.

“I’ve been great,” Mason replied, setting the plate down. “After that night, I started taking better care of myself; I got a better job, stopped drinking. Even patched up relationships with my family and my marefriend.”

“That’s super-duper!” Pinkie said, her face lighting up with joy for a moment before falling for a moment. “Where are they?”

Mason sighed sadly. “My parents and my wife all passed away some years ago.”

Pinkie’s ears flattened against her head, her shoulders slumped, and her mane seemed to lose some of its luster. “I’m so sorry, Mason!” she cried, sounding close to tears.

“It’s all right,” Mason smiled, taking her hoof in both of his his. “It was many years ago, and they all passed happily. I did manage to call my son today. He said Happy Hearth’s Warming, and said that he’d keep a place for me at dinner tomorrow.”

Pinkie smiled and nodded. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You know, Pinkie,” Mason continued, squeezing her hoof. “None of that would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for you. You inspired me that night to enjoy life more, to look for happiness. You showed me that the world really was a good place, and that there were good ponies. And above all, you taught me that I should never have to spend Hearth’s Warming alone.”

Pinkie’s smile widened, and a tear shone in her sapphire eyes. “No, they shouldn’t,” she whispered. She squeezed his hoof gently, rubbing it for warmth. “Mason?”

“Yes?” Mason asked, blinking slowly. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how tired he was, how cold and dark the room was getting. He focused upon the sapphire stars before him.

“I’ll stay with you,” Pinkie whispered. “Until you have to say goodbye.”

Mason nodded slowly. “Thank you, Pinkie.”

They were silent for a few moments. The only sounds in the room were the continuing rhythmic beeping and chirping of the machines and the hissing of the oxygen machine. The radio was playing Silent Night.

“Pinkie?” Mason asked, struggling to keep his eyes open. His lids were getting so heavier.

“Yes?” Pinkie asked in a soft, sad tone.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

Pinkie leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Her tears dripped onto his head. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

Once more, his heart leaped to his throat, as if it had been roused from sleep for one last time. Mason smiled at her reassuringly, gratefully, then slowly closed his eyes.

Author's Note

For one of my Christmas gifts, themouthofmush and I give the gift of feels. Inspired by One Hearth's Warming Eve by Aviators, this is the tale of the pony who had his life changed one Hearth's Warming Eve by a certain pink pony.

I wish you good fortune this Christmas day, and hope that you spend the day doing the things you love, with the people you love!

And just for extra feels, enjoy the song itself here.