“So there I was,” Rockhoof continued dramatically, “looking a big old manticore right in the eye, with naught but my trusty shovel beside me, and a worried settlement behind me.”
The class hung on his every word. Silverstream peeked through her claws. Sandbar looked nervous. Even Gallus was paying attention.
“But I was not about to let that scare me. I said, ‘You want some of this? I'll be more than a mouthful for you, ye ken?’ And I swung-!”
Having gotten a little too into his retelling, he swung his shovel, smashing into—or rather, through—the desk, tearing through the wooden panels like they were paper and rendering it into so much scrap wood.
He rested the handle of his shovel on the ground and looked uncomfortably at the ruined desk. “Ach, third time this year,” he mumbled guiltily. He shook his head and turned back to the class. “As I was saying, I swung my shovel, and he dodged it by the skin of his teeth. He roared at me, raising his giant paw, ready to flatten me.”
“So did you bash its head in?” Smolder asked excitedly.
“Nay. Mistmane stopped me.”
Smolder looked almost offended.
“I'd never seen a manticore before, see? And I had no idea how big they were supposed to be. Turns out, he was nae dangerous at all. He was a wee one, and just a wee bit cranky at that. Mistmane pulled out a beautiful bouquet of bluebells, and with a little wind magic, played a little lullaby that soothed the savage beast. And that's how we saved a village from a manticore.”
Other students stomped at the story, but Smolder raised her claw. “Wait, so nocreature died?” she asked. “Or got eaten?”
“Uh, no,” Rockhoof said hesitantly.
Smolder scoffed disgustedly. She crumpled up her notes and tossed them over her shoulder.
“Well, I liked the story,” Ocellus said primly, putting a few finishing touches on her own notes.
“Me too! We don't hear a lot about Mistmane,” Silverstream said excitedly. “Her mane was just so… misty!” She waved her claws in the air, approximating her wavy mane. “Why don't we hear more about her?”
A few other students echoed the question.
“Ah, that's because she's such a humble pony,” Rockhoof explained. “Never took credit for anything if she could help it. Did you know she saved an entire village from starving to death, and then never said a word about it after? Aye,” he said, shifting excitedly into his new story. “It were a cold winter in Old Equestria, the coldest Starswirl had ever seen. Ponies were shivering all over the land. Nopony could escape it. We were trapped up in a mountain village, with snow falling so thick that every time I shoveled, it filled up with new snow. Not even Flash Magnus’s shield could protect him from it.
“As you can guess, crops weren’t growing, either. It was just too cold! So she took it upon herself to plant a community garden inside a house, about the size of this room, I’d say. And she did it all by hoof.”
“But she's a unicorn,” another pony interjected.
“Aye, she is,” Rockhoof agreed, “but she loved using her hooves. Used ‘em just like an earth pony every time she planted things. Said it gave her more of a connection to the earth. Told her, I did, she'd wind up with toughened hooves for that. She knew, but she didn’t care. ‘Lotuses grow from mud’, she said, ‘so appearances nae tell the whole story’.” He paused. “Except she said it a bit fancier than that,” he amended. He shook his head. “Anyway, once her crops were planted, she used her magic and some of Mage Meadowbrook’s fertilizer mixture, and the crops were growing within a day. Saved the town! Wiped her out, though.” He shook his head. “She was tired for a week. Meadowbrook went from caring for plants to caring for her.” He smiled fondly at that.
“Yeah, I could believe that,” Gallus said knowingly. “She is, bar none, the oldest pony I've ever seen.”
The classroom giggled.
“Well, 'old’ is a bit of a harsh word,” Rockhoof defended his fellow Pillar. “She gave up her beauty to save her village, not her youth. It's not like she was frail or falling apart or nothing.” He paused. “Well, now that I say that,” he amended, “I remember there was this one time we were exploring this cave system, Mistmane, me, Stygian, Starswirl, Mage Meadowbrook, and Somnambula, looking for a group of foals that had gone a little too adventurous. It was low enough that I didn't bring my trusty shovel!” He spun it once and chuckled mirthlessly. “Now that was a mistake.
“Anyway, we were searching, each of us with a unicorn so they could light the way with their horns. Mistmane was with Mage Meadowbrook. She jumped down to light up an offshoot, and she landed wrong and twisted her ankle. Went down like a sack of potatoes. Of course, Meadowbrook went to help, and we came to see if we could help, too.
“And then there came a rumbling. There came a giant rock rolling down, and it was going to smash us all!”
The class gasped. Smolder leaned forward.
“Now, if I'd had my trusty shovel, I would’ve dug a trench to divert it, like I did with the lava, or smashed it to bits; but like I said, I did nae bring it. Oh, I've never felt so naked! So, next best option, I scooped up everypony and started running for the exit. I ran as fast as I could, carrying everypony but Somnambula to try and outrun that massive rock.”
“Why not her?” another student asked.
“Cause she could fly,” Rockhoof said, a little taken aback at the question.
“Oh.” She pulled her shoulders back, as if trying to hide her own wings. “I knew that.”
“Anyway,” Rockhoof continued, “the rock came crashing down. I got us to safety, but it hit the ground so hard, it shook the whole cave, and it started collapsing all around us! Rocks were falling and everypony was screaming, so I grabbed my friends again and started for the opening. We barely managed to escape with our lives before the whole thing caved in.
“So then I got my trusty shovel—never left home without it again, I assure ye—and dug out a new passageway, deep into the heart of the cave. It was slow going, even with Starswirl lifting the rubble with his magic, on account of our team being down by two. After what felt like a lifetime of searching, we found the foals alive, huddled together in a smaller cave section that hadn't fallen.”
Smolder breathed a sigh of relief. Even she had standards.
“They were pretty shaken up, what with being trapped underground in a tiny cave like that, ye ken?”
Gallus shuffled uncomfortably, ruffling his wings. He actually did ken what it was like to be trapped somewhere far too small for his liking.
“But Mistmane soon set them right. I may be the Pillar of Strength, but Mistmane has strength of spirit. We didn’t have a real name for it back then, but it's called ‘therapy’ today. Either way, she helped them talk through their experiences, and the foals were soon right as rain.”
“I like that story, too,” Ocellus murmured, making a few more notes.
“And not just for therapy!” Rockhoof said, segueing into another story. “She once talked down two pony families from having a war. We stumbled across this field, with two houses on either side. They were both growing crops, but there was a wide space of just dirt in the middle. Turns out, that's where the two groups that lived there would go to throw things at each other. Flash Magnus almost took a rutabaga to the face, but he was faster with that shield of his than anypony has any right to be. Somepony else threw a potato at me, but I gave it a whack with my trusty shovel and it flew so high, I think it's still flying to this very day.” He chuckled. “That got them to shut up long enough to explain what all the fuss was about.”
“What were they fighting about?” a pony asked.
“Who would lead the family. See, and here's the sad thing: it was just one family infighting like that. The two groups were led by brothers, twins, and their sire had passed on. Tradition was the oldest pony would be the next leader of the family, but with them being twins, nopony could remember who had been born first. And obviously, they both claimed that title, so the family had split into two, one behind each brother. Mistmane, being the oldest of our group, offered to help mediate.”
“Like I said,” Gallus interjected. “Oldest pony.”
“At first, neither would even give her the time of day, so ready they were to have at each other. But by the end of the week, they left the table the best of friends, with each other and her. With her help, they'd worked out all their problems, recaptured the familial spirit. She healed that little family. And I got to help move all the houses to the middle of the field, using my trusty shovel. She's a real miracle worker, Mistmane is. No problem she can't solve. Excepting maybe bad breath!” He chuckled wryly and shook his head. “Ach. Should nae have said that. Weren't even her fault, after all.” He looked at the class, ready to go on another tangent.
But to his bemusement, they all seemed to be looking at him eagerly. Yona smiled widely. Gallus had an eyebrow raised. Smolder was surreptitiously sniffing her own breath. They clearly wanted an explanation, and wouldn't be satisfied without one.
Rockhoof sighed. “Alright, you got me,” he said, putting his hoof down. “So! We Pillars got asked to go many different places, right? And she was asked to go to this little village in the rocky hills, to help bring beauty to it. So of course she went. But these ponies, they grew nothing but onions. And that's all they could grow up there, so that's all they ate.”
The class shuddered.
“Morning, noon, night, even for dessert! Nothing but all onions all the time.”
A pony with a flower cutie mark fainted, falling off her desk and down on the floor.
“And Mistmane, polite as can be, ate with them the whole time. Sure, she got them growing flowers eventually, but when she came back, oh! Her breath made me wilt! Her own flowers took to looking peaky when she walked by! And I hadn't known, so I thought she were under a curse. Told her that, I did. And she hadn't realized she were a walking pestilence. But she took it all in stride, both her bad breath and my big mouth. Luckily, Mage Meadowbrook knew just what to do. She whipped up a nice minty potion with a cloud and… some other stuff I cannae remember; and her breath was minty fresh again.”
“Yay, broken curse!” Silverstream cheered, pumping her claws in the air.
“And, in case ye were wondering, Meadowbrook did wear her mask when she treated her.”
The class giggled.
Rockhoof brightened as another story came to mind. “But while I'm talking food, there was this one time Somnambula-”
“Knock, knock!” Rarity sang, tapping a hoof against the doorframe. “Ah, Rockhoof? Pardon me, but I was wondering if I might borrow…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on the ruined desk. “Oh, that's the third one this year,” she murmured. She shook her head. “If I might borrow Sandbar?”
“Oh, aye, no trouble at all,” Rockhoof said. “Up you go, laddie,” and he gestured towards Rarity with his head.
Sandbar nodded and quickly started gathering his things.
Rarity looked over the class. “Well, you're all looking quite attentive today,” she commented. “These must be some stories, Rockhoof.”
Rockhoof shrugged modestly. “Ach, I just do what I can,” he said. “We've mostly been talking about Mistmane today, some of her stories.”
“Oh, Mistmane is my favorite,” Rarity said excitedly. She looked over at the students. “What did you learn today?”
Ocellus, ever the studious changeling, raised her hoof. “Well, today we've learned that Mistmane was…” She glanced down at her notes one last time.
“A super-calloused fragile mystic hexed with halitosis.”
