The Globetrotter and the Magician
It was midday, the sun was blotted by the clouds above, casting a cool shadow across the earth. The winds were tame and breezy, offering a refreshing respite from the harsh heat of the sun. A paved road lay ahead, well-trodden and safe from any dangers.
A stallion of no renown trotted on that paved road; his mind set on the journey. A journey of discovery. He was never known by many, and less by those he's come across. None knew his name nor his cutie mark, for it was concealed behind cloth; he wore a white cloak over his black-coated, red-speckled body. His eyes were deep yellow, and he wore a satchel around his neck.
The stallion had no real destination in mind; he went wherever the wind took him, regardless of what lay in his path. He was a traveler, and he must travel. Eventually, he comes across a wagon that had seen better days: run-down and discolored, the wooden wagon was split and cracked; its wheels chipped and unhinged, lay on the grass. This was a beautiful object reduced to a state of decay, possibly abandoned too by its owner.
There was nothing that would be useful there, but the stallion trotted toward it anyway. When he reached the wagon, he noticed it wasn't as old as he thought, though the wreckage still retained decay. He poked around until he saw the entrance. The door was broken like everything else, and it hung loosely, barely on the hinges that tried to keep it in place; completely wide open. An invitation. And the stallion accepted.
Wary, he ventured inside the wagon's walls. There was a tangy odor that lingered in the dusty air as if a pony hadn't washed in moons. There was trash everywhere, and items that appeared to be valuables lay bestrewn amongst the rubbish. A single bulb hung in the center of the room, flickering like a dying light from a fire.
The stallion recognized that this wagon came off familiar to him. He vaguely recalled a performer going from town to town to delight and dazzle her audience with her penchant for magical trickery. She was a magician, an illusionist. He observed one of her shows, albeit briefly, and he saw how creatively she utilized her magic. And this was her wagon.
What had transpired here? Did she give up performing and left this once ravishing wagon to rot against the decay of time, or did something ensue? Something precarious. Perhaps, but there was no sign of blood staining the wagon inside or outside nor its acrid stench lingering in the air, so he could presume she was alive. But to have a wagon reduced to this? The stallion knew something went askew.
Abruptly, the stallion heard a shuffling noise from the end of the wagon. He looks forward and his piercing yellow gaze falls upon a ripped purple and star-covered cape that has long since lost its splendor; faded and worn. He noticed it took a round shape as if draped over a large ball. Curious, he moves forth and uncovers a mare staring blankly at him; he couldn't tell if she realized he was standing before her.
Sharp scrutiny examined her pitiful state; she looked pathetic, and such is her reward. Her dark violet eyes were nearly pale. Her brilliant blue mane and tail were ragged and ungroomed, and her large hat was notably absent, possibly among the scattered debris. Her azure coat was faded almost as if it were drained of its sublime color. The stallion shifted his gaze to her flanks to discover a whimsical wand swirled around by magic with a moon in the background.
This was Trixie for sure, an infamous pony, and how far the young mare had fallen. She shuddered and fought back bouts of coughing; she wasn't in the best of shape, skinny and sickly, and she stunk. With a dark grimace, Trixie glared at him with malice glittering in her eyes, but he glimpsed that gaze hid an overwhelming dread. Trixie had not expected anypony to see her, at least not like this.
Her glare did nothing to deter the stallion. She was huddled like a ball with her tail blanketing her hooves. What a wretched creature, to be reduced to this. The stallion had seen her shows on occasion during his travels, but he never thought a mare like her could fall on hard times. Then again, he knew how she became like this. It was her vice that got her into this situation, and this was her comeuppance.
"I know you," the stallion said, his deep voice ringing in the wagon. "Trixie the Magician, commonly referred to as 'The Great and Powerful Trixie' to those of your audience." He narrowed his piercing yellow eyes. "You were a covetous one, boasting to those ignorant of your 'accolades.' But what is a magician of your so-called caliber if not a pretender? You have fallen far indeed."
Trixie bared her teeth in a snarl, but the stallion saw how much effort it took for her and eventually, she relented, unable to spit back any stinging retorts. "Get...get out of my wagon, you intruder. There's nothing for you to steal!" Her voice was dry and raspy as if she hadn't spoken in a long while.
The stallion tipped his head to one side, undaunted by Trixie's demand. He wasn't going anywhere, and he knew Trixie couldn't make him even if she tried. "Seeker of gratification, draped in an odd design I fail to see. Is this what stardom brought you? As fame waxes, so does it wane, such is the way of things. You have suffered, reduced to this filth. An affront to a prideful creature such as yourself. It must sting."
Trixie's eyes flared in fury, and she bunched her muscles as if she was going to spring at him, but then she halted and looked away, suddenly disinterested. "Have your laugh," she murmured. "What's another insult to me?"
This was unforeseen. Trixie had always spoken in the third person; the stallion found it peculiar. There was no trace of it now. Was she steeped in so much despair she wouldn't speak regularly?
"I'm not going anywhere," the stallion stated, sitting on the creaky boards of the wagon. "I know why you are here. This is your punishment, of course, for what you had done in Ponyville." Shock glimmered in Trixie's eyes as she turned to face him. "Yes, I know. Not everypony knows of your transgressions, but enough do. A living doing tricks is far beyond you now.
"Where has that misplaced ambition gone to, eh? Have you no strength to divulge into that magniloquent speech of yours? You were nothing but a pretentious mare, and now you are hollow; there is no pony left for you to 'impress.'"
Trixie narrowed her faded eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked. Then she shuffled her hooves, blushing. "If you aren't here to steal, then... Are you here for...you know? If you are, I could use the bits."
The stallion chuckled. "That won't be necessary," the stallion said, causing Trixie to look away in shame. "I've decided to help you."
Trixie's ears twitched warily. "Help?" she echoed. "Why would you help a pony like me? What's in it for you?"
The mysterious stallion shook his head and chortled at Trixie's skepticism. He points a hoof to her and says, "I'm a pony, through and through. We help our fellows; we are a peaceful race after all. There's nothing I would gain for helping you, none at all. I'm a traveler. What could you give me? I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. Believe me?"
"No," Trixie answered. "I don't know who you are, but no pony speaks like that."
The stallion nodded. "Fair enough, but wouldn't it be great to get back on your hooves rather than sleeping in the trash? This wagon could use some sprucing up, don't you think?"
"And how exactly could I repair my home? There's nothing to fix!"
"That's where you're wrong, Trixie," the stallion replied silkily. He tapped his horn with a hoof. "I'm a... unicorn of a few spells. If you want, I can repair your wagon to its original state: nice, beautiful, and capable of travel."
Trixie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How do you know a repair spell? They never taught me that in Celestia's school."
The stallion chuckled, a glimmer in his eyes. "For gifted unicorns? I didn't know you were special enough to be accepted into such a prestigious school, but you are right. Repair spells are often learned by a select few in certain lines of employment, but I am an exception." He saw Trixie open her mouth to ask, but he held her tongue with a hoof in the air. "Now, now, that isn't for you to know. All you need to know is that I can fix your home. Don't you want that?"
"Even if you were to fix my home, what could I do for a living? Being a show mare now seems like a lost dream..."
The stallion shrugged. "Perhaps. There's more than just cheap parlor tricks and flashing lights waiting for you after the smoke clears."
Trixie slowly rose to a sitting position. "Your jibes aren't wholly welcomed here. Intending to demean my profession?"
The stallion gave the tired mare a wry grin. "I've been waiting for you to spout something back." He stood up and began walking to the wagon's entrance. Over his shoulder, he calls, "Coming? I'd rather you be outside while I'm repairing your broken home."
The stallion observed Trixie attempting to heave herself off the floor to trot toward him, but the mare had trouble moving on her own. The stallion narrowed his eyes to see that Trixie hadn't been eating, attributing to her lack of strength. Trixie seemed to have caught him staring and looked away to cover up her embarrassment.
The stallion trots over to her side and said, "Lean on me." Trixie seemed reluctant to trust the stallion. At least she's not too naive. "It's just until you get outside. I won't whisk you away or anything, you have other things to do."
Trixie looked confused. "What do you mean?"
The stallion shook his head. "Never mind that now; it isn't my place to say." He angled his head to the entrance of the wagon. "Shall we? And before you head out, leave your cape."
Slowly with care, Trixie hobbled warily toward the entrance of her broken wagon with the stallion guiding her. The fear across Trixie's face would've brought a pang of sympathy to him, but such things were not welcome. He assumed she was hesitant to go outside, and he couldn't blame her. He also noticed Trixie did not attempt to resist his aid at all, letting him guide her slowly out of the wagon. What was once left of her pride had been swallowed.
Outside, the stallion gently sat Trixie on the verdant grass. She shivered and looked to and fro in multiple directions as if believing a pack of timberwolves was surrounding her. He reckoned she was wary of anypony seeing her in such a terrible state.
"Calm down," he assured the anxious mare softly, using his tail to brush down her back gently. "No pony but myself would be way out here." His yellow eyes shined. "You chose an exemplary area to hide away from the world. Kudos!"
Trixie flattened her ears to the sides of her head. "I do not appreciate your words, stranger," she grumbled hotly, casting a glare at the stallion, but it seemed to be disregarded. "Who are you anyway?"
The stallion held an impish grin. "No pony special, I assure you. I'm just a traveler; a globetrotter. I like that word better."
Trixie was unconvinced, glancing at the stallion's black coat. She had never seen a pony's coat spotted with red patches before. "Where are you from?" she asked. "That is a unique coat of yours. And now that I'm getting a good look at you, you're taller than most stallions."
The stallion put his hoof on his chest. "Aww, thank you for the kind comment! Although I travel a lot, I do try to keep my coat nice and... other parts sheen. Furthermore, just because you're checking me out doesn't mean I'll keep doing free favors for you."
Trixie huffed crossly and narrowed her eyes in discontent. "Where are you from?" she reiterated with an edge to her voice.
The stallion shrugged, unaware of Trixie's mounting agitation. "Oh... here and there," he answered obliquely much to Trixie's umbrage. "Does it matter?"
"No," she replied testily, but then her voice softened. "I suppose not..."
"Good. Let me get started."
The stallion's horn began to brighten in a white glow. To Trixie, the stallion thought it felt pleasant and warm, for how enamored she became. The broken pieces of Trixie's wagon began to fidget and shake levitating off the ground with the wagon in tow.
Trixie witnessed her wagon being engulfed in a sphere of white light. All the broken pieces gravitated toward the sphere before being engulfed as well. The stallion noticed Trixie glance a few times at him, possibly wondering how effortlessly he was casting the spell. He strained to suppress a laugh at the mare's astonished reaction.
With all the debris within the sphere, the stallion shot a beam of white that pierced through it. Trixie had to avert her eyes as the light became too fierce for her to handle. The white sphere floating in the air began to lower to the ground before suddenly vanishing.
"All done," the stallion said in triumph, rubbing a hoof across his chest. He watched as Trixie's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. He saw tears begin to stream down her face.
The wagon was perfect. No longer did the decay of time hold it in its ruinous grasp. Colors of dark blue, purple, and gold seemed to glow with a resplendent shine. Stars of blue and gold, along with her cutie mark decorated the windows.
"If you look inside, you'll find that all your belongings are in the best of shape," the stallion said. He heard no reply from the mare.
Trixie heaved herself to her hooves, stumbling and lurching with an odd gait toward her mobile home. The stallion watched on as the mare laid her face against the wood with a shuddering sigh of bliss and happiness. "This is all I had," she whispered. The stallion trotted next to her as she continued. "This is all I have; my life lies with this wagon, and I'm so happy to have it back." She turned to him with gratitude in her glossy eyes. "Thank you..."
The stallion shook his head. "It was no trouble, a trifle. Just doing a deed for my fellow pony." His eyes narrowed as his voice became earnest. "You have suffered more than enough, Ms. Lulamoon. You need to get back on your hooves and follow a different path. You've done a horrible thing."
Trixie glanced away, her eyes deep pools of sorrow. "I know," she whispered regretfully, her voice trembling. "The amulet did...things to me. But I don't know if I'll be accepted after what I've done."
"That accursed trinket that preys on the very quintessence of a pony is one difficult to turn an eye from," the stallion muttered dryly. "Still, it did not draw you to its powers alone; you desired it to enact vengeance on those who you believed had wronged you. You were spiteful and unwise, recklessly putting lives in danger because of envy and humiliation, for which you have yourself to blame for what you coveted. You become this was the only punishment for a pony of your callousness.
"However, to be reduced to this for so long is cruel and requires a reprieve. I alleviated your misery because I hoped you had learned your lesson and had the willingness to stray from the path you trod. A path of redemption is in order, then fate, by the cards it pulls, may be kind to you. But nothing is ever guaranteed."
"But how?" Trixie pleaded, tears welling up in her pale eyes. "How will I know if I would be accepted? I've hurt her and her friends. How could I be worthy of forgiveness? Would she truly believe me?"
"If Twilight is kind and believes in second or third chances, then she'll oblige to your fervent plea." The stallion smiled at the mare, but not one that mocked or belittled her. "If I believe you can change and be better, then Twilight will too. Lucky for you she's very forgiving, to a near gullible degree. But you must mean it."
Trixie stepped to the stallion, almost tripping over her hooves. "I do!" she wailed. "I feel awful, and I want to say that I'm sorry! But I ran away. I don't know what's going to happen..."
The stallion shrugged. "Be truthful, and truly mean what you say. You'll succeed."
"Why do you have so much trust that I'll succeed?" she asked. "You hardly know me."
"I know enough," the stallion replied with a tip of his head to one side. "There's nothing wrong with believing in your fellow pony is there?"
"Well, uh... no," Trixie replied, stammering at the stallion's complete faith in her. "I don't know if I'm ready yet..."
"Well, of course not, you stink! Whew!" the stallion remarked, chortling as he put a hoof to his nose, simulating something foul had gone inside. Trixie blushed in embarrassment. "Wash up, do your mane, wear your hat and cape, and present yourself to your worst enemy to garner forgiveness." The laughing stopped and the stallion looked solemn. "The rest will follow."
Trixie looked perplexed, almost unnerved by the stallion's change in mood. "What do you mean by that? Do you know something I don't?"
"Perhaps, but what's in here," he gestured to his head, "remains only for the one who brandishes it: me. You'll be fine. Head back to Ponyville when you're not looking like a dead pony. Trust me, it'll improve your chances of being forgiven, not that I would know."
Anxiety showed in Trixie's eyes. "W-wait, you aren't coming with me. What if I need you?"
"For what?" the stallion asked. "Me being there won't change a thing. Whether or not you are forgiven isn't up to me you know. Besides, I'm not too keen on revisiting places I've already been. You'll be fine."
As the stallion turned away, he looked back and saw that Trixie still wasn't confident about going back to Ponyville. He understood to an extent, but milling about wasn't going to change anything. He realized that the mare needed a little reassurance, and he was positive she wouldn't say anything.
He turned back and stood right in front of the mare. She was small in comparison to him. She looked timid and unsure; a trait he wished ponies could live without.
"Here, take this," he told her. Underneath his cloak was a black feather, similar to a raven with its glossy sheen, being held in his magic. He tucked the feather firmly within her mane. "That is to let you know that I'm with you. I know in time you'll discard it, but it's pretty neat and may be able to relinquish the blight of uncertainty from your person if only a little; the feather does wither away with time. May it bring insight and change."
Trixie was silent for a moment. The kindness of the stallion nearly stunned her. "Thank you... I think I'll feel better knowing you're with me."
"Of course, that's what material possessions are mainly for. Sentimental value and whatnot." He turned his back to the mare, his head veering to one side to glance at her. "Before you can become great and powerful, you must be apologetic and penitent first. Seek beyond yourself on this new path, and power will present itself, but in a fashion foreign to you. Only then you will gain the strength you seek. The rest will follow."
"What are you talking about?" she asked in exasperation. "What will follow?" She took the feather out of her mane and gazed at it until realization glistened in her moist eyes. "Wait a moment... This didn't come from your satchel; it came from under your cloak." Trixie shifted her head down so she could glimpse the stallion's undercarriage and saw something large fidget and shake. Confused, she looked at him. "What is that?"
The stallion stifled a chuckle from escaping his lips. "If you ponder long enough, you'll know, but if you do, keep it hush-hush. And maybe your career as a magician isn't wholly out of your grasp, but only the future can tell."
Trixie squinted at him, but she nodded. "Thank you for helping me," she said, bowing her head. "I won't forget what you've said, and I will return to Ponyville once I'm ready."
The stallion smiled and turned away, trotting on the paved road with Trixie looking after him. He craned his neck and called, "Good deal!"
Just before he could get further away, he heard Trixie call, " I didn't get your name!"
"I'm just a globetrotting pony, nothing more!" he called back. He waved a hoof lazily in the air. "March on, Trixie!"