Star Tracker didn’t have many friends.
“Oh, for—what about socks? Everypony likes socks, right? It’s just like getting a tie for a stallion.”
“I dunno, that seems kind of… er, intimate?”
“How are socks intimate?”
“I don’t know! I, um, I just think that’s a little too, er, well, not a good idea.”
It wasn’t a big problem, as far as he was concerned. He got along well enough with most ponies, but he was indrawn by nature. That, and for some reason a lot of potential friends seemed to get perturbed by how he talked. He wasn’t sure why; he made a point to always use a soft, friendly voice, and to always stand close enough that the pony he was talking to would be able to hear him clearly. Yelling or making ponies ask you to repeat yourself was definitely rude, so what was he doing wrong? He’d never quite figured it out.
“Whatever. I suppose you think any clothing is out, then.”
“Well, no, it just should be something you, um, you know. Um.”
“...Um?”
“...Not socks.”
So, “friendly enough, in a distant sort of way” was his default social interaction. Which, he figured, was fine. It wasn’t like he had no friends. Heck, he had three friends! Nova Burst, plus the twins, Puff Pastry and Puffy Paster. Three was just enough friends for most things, he’d found. Board games, sleepovers, you name it, four little ponies was usually a good number.
“Fine. What about hats? Are hats okay?”
“Er, I think so.”
“Great, then get her a hat!”
“But how do I, well, know what kind of a, a… a hat she wants?”
Of course, having only three friends had its downsides. Say, when you needed help picking out a Hearth’s Warming present, and two of your friends were no help at all.
“Does she like sports? You could get her a hat for her favorite team.”
“I, uh, I don’t know if she likes sports?”
“Seriously? You spent an entire day with her, and sports never came up once? That’s up there with, like, the weather. Everypony talks about sports!”
“Well, we, ah… we didn’t.”
Nova Burst was of the opinion that buying a Hearth’s Warming present for somepony you’d met once, months ago, was stupid. Star Tracker had wanted to say that she was stupid, but he restrained himself. Barely.
“Okay, what did you talk about?”
“Mostly the, ah, cruise activities. She was really busy, and I don’t think she liked any of them, though.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, there was also that time that she yelled at me, and stomped on my hoof, and said I wasn’t her real family, and then I cried a lot.”
Puff Pastry was the spitting image of her name: a dessert-obsessed young chef-in-training. She had plenty of suggestions for gifts, but all of them involved sugar, flour, butter, and an oven, in various permutations. That had been more useful, at least, but Star Tracker wasn’t confident enough in his own cooking abilities to try and make anything himself, and had decided that pastry without a personal touch was simply too… impersonal. At that point, Puff had shrugged her shoulders and allowed that she was all out of ideas.
“...Wow.”
“I, um, that is to say, she did apologize later, so it was okay.”
“And you’re sure this is a pony you want to send a gift to?”
“Of course! She’s practically my sister! Or, well, she was, for a day.”
That left only Puffy Paster, who, thankfully, was not the spitting image of his name. Rather than being an overweight scrapbooking enthusiast, Puffy was a muscular young colt with a passion for architecture, a whimsical streak tempered by an underlying amiableness, and a heaping helping of tolerance. Star Tracker was sure that he’d be more help than the other two.
“Buddy, she’s at least twice your age.”
“Cousin, maybe? Aunt? I think she’s too young to be my aunt.”
“How old is she, anyway?”
“As of four o’clock, she’s exactly tw— I mean, let’s just, ah, focus on the hat for now.”
Puffy was a good colt, and a good friend. So were the other two, really—good fillies, and good friends. But the problem with only having three friends was that once you got to the third one, there was no more margin for error. And if that third friend kept offering up suggestion after suggestion which, while they might have seemed fine to most ponies, invariably seemed to have some fatal flaw when reflected upon with sufficient intensity…
“For the record, whatever you were about to say was definitely creepy. But fine. So, no sports hats. Winter hat, then? ‘Tis the season.”
“I don’t really know what, ah, style she’d like. Or color. Or if she already has a hat.”
“Of course she already has a hat! You don’t get her a hat because she doesn’t own one, you get it because it’s a nice hat!”
“But what if she doesn’t like it?”
…Well, there was nothing for it. Puffy would just have to do.
“If she doesn’t like it, fine,” Puffy said, making no effort to hide his exasperation as he lay on his back across the bed. “It’s a gift. You’re not supposed to read her mind or anything. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘It’s the thought that counts?’”
Star continued to nervously pace back and forth across Puffy’s room. It was a small room, so he could only take three steps in one direction before having to turn around and start back again, but that was just as well. This way, he didn’t have to get too far away from his friend when he was speaking. Still, he made sure to lean in towards Puffy every time he walked past. He didn’t want to seem rude.
“I thought that, ah, we were. Thinking about it, that is.”
“Yes, we were. And we have been. For almost an hour.” Puffy let out a weary sigh. “That’s even a long time for grown-ups. I’m pretty sure we’ve got the ‘thought’ part down by now.”
“Oh. Okay.” Star paused in his pacing. Then, upon realizing that he hadn’t actually decided anything yet, he resumed his three-step dance with eternity. “So, ah, what should I get her?”
“A hat.”
“Oh. But I thought—”
“Nope. No more thinking. Thinking time is over. You’re going to get her a winter hat. It will be dark blue wool with powder-blue zig-zag stripes running horizontally across it, and it will have a white poof ball thingy on top.”
“That’s, ah, very specific.”
“I saw it at the Merino Outlet when I was getting Puff her Hearth’s Warming present yesterday. Now come on, let’s go get your sister-aunt-cousin her gift.” He hopped up from the bed.
Star Tracker hovered at his ear. “Well, ah, okay, but there’s still one more thing.”
Puffy’s eye twitched dangerously, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. “Okay. One more thing, and then we go.”
“Well, ah, it’s not just Twilight I have to buy for. See, I got to be a member of the Sparkle family for the day, so I still need to get presents for ah, her mom, and dad, and brother, and his wife, and their child. And also maybe for Twilight’s pet dragon? I think he counts too.” He smiled sheepishly. “So, um, do you have any, ah, ideas?”
*****
It was Hearth’s Warming morning in Ponyville, and the Crystal Tree-Castle was the center for all things Sparkle family. Cadence, Shining Armor, and Flurry Heart had come down from the Crystal Empire, Twilight Velvet and Night Light had come down from Canterlot, and Spike had come down from his bedroom on the second floor. They all gathered with Twilight in a smallish room off from the main foyer. The foyer had the thirty-foot white pine which the townsponies had all helped decorate, but the side room was a more cozy affair, wrapped around a cheery fireplace and graced with a much less intimidating, more intimate tree, bedecked with only a few ornaments—heirlooms which had been in the family for generations, more recent decorations which the Sparkle children had made in school, and an obnoxiously large Fillydelphia Phracturers ball which yelled “Bones are made to be broken!” in a tinny voice whenever a button on the bottom was pressed.
“They named a player after me, you know!” Shining had explained to his less-than-impressed wife. “It’d be rude not to—wait, you know what? I don’t have to justify myself. I’m allowed to have a favorite ornament!” She’d kept her glare up a moment longer, but her grin couldn’t resist peeking through in the end.
Beneath that tree were a hoofful of presents, and as soon as the family was assembled, they were opened, admired, and set aside quickly and efficiently. Soon, everyone had their gifts from everyone else… but one box was still left unopened.
“That’s funny,” said Twilight. “Who’s this from?”
Spike shrugged. “I dunno, but it was addressed to ‘The Sparkle Family, do not open until Hearth’s Warming.’”
With a shrug of her own, Twilight levitated the box up and opened it. The first thing she took out was a letter. As she read it, her eyes widened. “Oh, it’s from Star Tracker! I didn’t know he was going to… well, that was very kind of him to send something, wasn’t it? He says, ‘Happy Hearth’s Warming to all of my family for a day.’”
“So, what’d he send us?” asked Night Light, before his wife elbowed him gently and told him to be patient.
“I just hope it’s nothing weird,” Twilight muttered, before her number one assistant elbowed her gently and told her to be polite.
Shining Armor and Cadence didn’t say anything, but their infant daughter poked them with her hooves anyway. “Goo boo blaw,” she solemnly intoned.
That brought a smile to everyone’s face. With a chuckle, Twilight lowered the box to the ground, where everyone could see…
“Hats,” observed Spike.
Seven winter hats, each one knit from dark blue wool with powder-blue zig-zag stripes running horizontally across them, and white poof ball thingies on top, were neatly stacked inside the box.
The seven ponies looked at them, then at each other.
“Sweet!” cried Shining Armor. “Matching outfits!”
“We should all wear these all day!” added his mother. “We’ll look just like a gaggle of geese, if they all had identical hats!”
"Oh, these will make for just the best family photo!” beamed Twilight. Then, as everypony (and dragon) tried on their new accoutrements, she added, “You know, I really didn’t give Star Tracker enough credit. What a thoughtful gift.”
The End
