Mudbriar's Funeral

by SparklingTwilight

Rating: teen
Tags: Mud Briar, Sad, Igneous Rock, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Starlight Glimmer, Maud Pie, Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, Death
Length: 2714

At Mudbriar's funeral, Starlight Glimmer struggles to be a friend. She and Maud reflect on roads not taken. Also, there is the mirror lake. ...

At Mudbriar's funeral, Starlight Glimmer struggles to be a friend; she and Maud reflect on roads not taken. (Igneous and Pinkie provide flavour, rock and candy-based respectively). Also, there is the mirror lake....

Era: Post-Season 9. (See an index of my stories, sorted by My Little Pony Season).

Note: This site suggests "Mud Briar", but "Mudbriar" is what the fandom wiki uses and, for purposes of this tale, it sounds more poetic.
Image: Source is clickable on the image. The Image ONLY is by Delapouite under CC BY 3.0.

Published 2021-09-02 13:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-09-02 13:20:00 UTC

Mudbriar's Funeral

Maud Pie's expressionless aquamarine eyes stared, unblinking at the sepulcher before her, amid the rocks at the gateway to a cavern.

I, ostensibly Maud's very good friend, watched her pain... and the macabre tomb she had wrought. And I drew back, away from her and away from the funeral crowd, hid in a corner--hyperventilating.

So, I've been a guidance counselor and a principal but when you get down to the core of the matter, the really deep insightful soul of the situation--I've never been good with providing anypony comfort--real comfort in a situation like this. Platitudes? I had a few. "There, there; sorry for your loss; you'll be missed; I'm here for you..." Didn't tell her those, though. Couldn't. They weren't good enough. But I had them for when somepony didn't know what to say because thatpony didn't *know* anotherpony well, wasn't close, wasn't...a good friend.

I could, of course, make ponies like me when I wanted--when I really tried. I could listen. Sure, that's what most of being a counselor was about; Maud, though, wasn't a student--she deserved more. And sure, I had been the charismatic mayor of a town where I'd convinced everypony to let me magick away their cutie marks, making everyone (except myself) equal. I could do righteous anger and manufacture charisma if pressed. But connecting on a deeper level; having a heart to heart, something worthy of a good friend--something she wouldn't sense was fake? Nah. Couldn't do it. Didn't feel it. Wouldn't. *Won't*.

Breath slowing, heart throbbing less, I looked back to the crowd.

Beneath the gathering twilight of the sun, Maud's family was there, her sallow-faced father Igneous, mother Cloudy Quartz with her wrinkled forehead, and the sisters--all looking grim. Even Maud's usually vibrant sister Pinkie Pie, whose optimistic joy could rarely be contained, was wearing a veil and blowing her nose, looking serious, though that probably wouldn't last too long--knowing Pinkie Pie. Beside Pinkie stood her husband, who shared her career as a party-planning pony, his face white as a camellia.

Then there were Maud's friends and co-workers from the School of Friendship, where she sometimes substitute taught, and students, and her acquaintances. And then there was me: Starlight Glimmer. Maud's best non-family-friend. I wasn't up front and I wasn't at her side. I was in the back, hiding from everypony. I slunk deeper into the shadows.

Mudbriar, Maud's husband, didn't have anyone from his family--he was the last of his line. And he'd left behind any friends who he may have had before joining with Maud. I always wondered how much truth there was to that claim of his. How could he have had any friends with his matter-of-fact, stone-faced attitude? But at least he'd found Maud. And, together, they had their sarcasm. And wit. I never knew if his jokes were intended to be humor, but they made Maud grin, which was important.

"Here we conduct a sacred celebration of life under the setting sun of our Princess Celestia and near to the dark reflection of Princess Luna." Maud's father, Igneous Rock, conveniently a licensed Eclessiastic, began the ceremonies with a deadpan, even, neutral voice. "A celebration of the time we had to know Mudbriar," he continued. "He was a pony. Of middle age. Of middling height. Of less than middling weight. Of coat of gray. Of eyes of brown. Of marriage to Maud Pie, Rocktorate Holder and Professor. Of descent from the same line that claims the famous Stygian although the twain did not have a particularly strong relationship even after the ancestor returned from exile, but even-so this Stygian sends his commiserations that unbreakable commitments related to his book tour have kept him from this threshold. The tour is also advertised on the second to last page of your programs, an advertisement which generously provided funding for our buffet."

That buffet was, admittedly, a mouthwatering spread, with everything from the humble and traditional rock soup of the Pies to the abundant cornucopia of flavors endemic to Stygian's homelands--although he'd been too busy to drop by to visit a pony-relative he barely knew, he certainly was generous with his largess.

Igneous continued, "He was a rich pony in the spirit of sense. Of calm. Of purpose. Of--"

It was just a drone in my ears, and probably also in Maud's. Maud was staring at the sepulcher.

Her other visitors had spoken with her, related their memories of Mudbriar, told her what he meant to them, told her what SHE meant to them, told her how to deal with loss, how to cope, how to keep busy, how to do fun things, how to do things for others. I'd eavesdropped with a spell since I was nervous and I didn't have anything to say. But copying any of that drivel didn't seem right. None of it had any effect on Maud. I didn't have anything to add. I didn't have anything. Anything.

Maud and I, we usually felt comfortable together when we flew our kites. We didn't talk much. We just shared a look and a laugh. We were friends. And I guess we were close, as close as anypony could get with Maud, who often said only what she had to with merely a blink and an eye movement. Maud, who spoke economically, with poetry in her soul.

We'd spent time together before, in calm meditation, too; I guess that's what someponies'd call it. We rested, mesmerized by the dancing glimmer of bioluminescent mushroom glow across a lake, supplemented by the gentle play of a small sliver of starlight emanating from a tiny fissure in the rock above and the gradual drip-drip of condensation. Maud had taken me to the lake and its reflective waters, a forbidden place beneath the earth's crust. The magical place had been sealed off because within it, one pony could become many--Twilight had dubbed it the Mirror Lake.

Together, with Mudbriar, we'd stared at the forbidden lake--with its awesome power--and contemplated its meaning. Maud had thrown a rock into it, and it skipped across. I experimented with carefully placing blades of grass inside it, still stuck to their roots, and copies were made. Without the roots, copies were still made, but the facsimiles more rapidly wilted. It was strange. I bandied hypotheses but Maud had shushed me, pressing a hoof over my mouth. Mudbriar, a stick in the mud if there ever was one, hadn't joined in. Looking pointedly at the wilted grass, he refused to even toss in a piece of wood, although he had gathered some, formerly holding that intent.

After an hour and a half relating the facts of Mudbriar's life according to the old form of Ecclesiastic Remembrance, an archaic tradition that Maud Pie's family followed, Igneous stiffly strode to his seat without casting a glance toward Maud--perhaps it was too painful to see his daughter suffering loss. Maud inclined her head as her father walked from the podium, briefly noting his contribution.

Then, in contrast to her father's stoic remembrance, there sprung up, blowing her nose profusely into an embroidered pink handkerchief, his most colorful and active daughter, Pinkie Pie. "My sister--", she wailed histrionically. "What cruelty fate has visited! Taken from us so young! And by formaldehyde poisoning! I didn't even know that was a thing! Cancer! Caused by his beloved preserved wood collection! So horribly ironic." Pinkie Pie threw herself across the podium, wailing. Then she dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. "I--didn't like--understand him much."

That was an understatement. Pinkie Pie and Mudbriar had been like oil and water, barely able to be adjacent without Pinkie Pie descending into raging conniptions caused by her inability to understand the stoic stallion.

"But-but-but-" she blubbered, and faced her sister. "I know he understood you." She blew her nose, loud and hard and went to embrace Maud, who sat, stoic, staring unblinking, her eyes wide and red from lack of moisture (or perhaps too much moisture produced privately when nopony was watching)?

Pinkie hugged Maud and tugged her, wailed in her hair and pulled her to the ground. "I need to hug you twice, thrice, more and more and more! Be happy!" Pinkie lamented.

With a sudden silent shove, Maud pushed her sister off and quietly and warily put space between them. Pinkie Pie continued wailing and she reached for her beloved older sister. Maud moved away, farther into the crowd and shook her head once, violently, in Pinkie Pie's direction. Then she trotted out of the hall, past me. She looked back, briefly as she passed, and exchanged a glance, surprised. Maybe she hadn't noticed my presence? I hadn't visited her in the reception line. Thankfully, her glance was not angry, just shocked.

She didn't come back in the next few minutes.

And her father rose. "Gentleponies. Together we gather and honor Mudbriar and his consort's wishes. We thank you for your presence and believe the time has come to bring matters to an end." Then, his voice wavering, he led everypony in the closing prayer and song.

I slipped out.

And I went to that place, the lake where we'd meditated.

Maud's eyes were streaked with tears.

"I could go."

We sat in silence.

"There could have been a copy." Maud shifted among the stones; she looked into the pool. "But it wouldn't have been him. And the sickness would be there. We all saw your grass... and he *knew*." Maud looked pointedly at the pile of wood Mudbriar had brought to place within the water, but which he had decided not to after he had seen my experiment.

After the experiment, I brought word of the severed root copies' rapid demise to Princess Twilight. The two of us traveled; we ran tests with terminally sick animals, donated by Fluttershy, who nervously accompanied us. Mirror lake copies of an individual tended to outlive the prime, but not by much. And they suffered a great deal. The mirror lake copied all things, but there were blips, small, imperceptible to observation. Still, when one had a horde of identical individuals and saw their *hearts* give out--there were notable variations, which was probably why years ago Twilight had been able to identify the correct Pinkie Pie from among the hundreds of copies she had made of herself--which had led to the lake's shuttering. The copies were ostensibly identical, but not completely twins. The lake was *strange*.

"He'd have died. Again, and again, and again. He wanted dignity."

Maud sighed.

"I understand." Of course, she'd accept his request. Mudbriar, like Maud's father and most of their family believed a great deal in dignity, honor, tradition. Maud could have kept copying Mudbriar for months, and his copies would have continued, but they would have been in a sickened state, losing more each replication.

I kept silent.

Quite a while passed, with us both sitting and staring at the lake. I fidgeted and started and stopped and hemmed and hawed a few times. "Maud--I--it's not--you shouldn't--"

Maud turned to me, and blinked.

"Starlight. I've been hearing a lot." She looked back at the pool, then she shifted closer to me, so that her coat was touching mine. "From ponies who don't know me well. And from ponies who are too close. It's okay. He didn't want me to suffer, again, and again, and again. And I didn't want him to suffer, again, and again and again. A pony only has one life, This was right."

"I'm sorry I'm a bad friend," I stupidly said.

Maud looked at me, blinked again, then laid her head on my shoulder. Her pained eyes stared up at me, blinking ever so often until they shut and stayed that way, and then she slept, surrounded by rocks, the abandoned wood, and me.

Author's Note

Funerals. What to say? Overly rational? Overly emotional? Platitudes? Is it all too much? Is it all too little? How to be a good friend?

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