Trixie listened to her wagon creaking rhythmically as she trotted along the road. She huffed, watching her breath turn to vapour in the cold air in front of her. A few flakes of snow were falling, but were not yet managing to settle. Still, she quickened her pace to a canter, hoping she could make it to the next town soon in case it started coming down more heavily.
It had only been a few months since Trixie’s great humiliation in Ponyville, when Twilight Sparkle had upstaged her in front of everypony by taking on an ursa of all things and proving that Trixie might have been exaggerating about a few of her exploits. As much as she tried to, Trixie found it difficult to move past her upstaging and bring the same confidence to performances as before.
The town she was visiting today - Trottcliffe - was a quaint little agricultural hamlet at least three days’ walk from the nearest city, Manehattan. These were the sort of ponies who should adore her theatrics and showponyship more than anyone. Not only that, but it was Hearth’s Warming Eve, with everypony free from work and excited for the holidays. This should be one of her best shows yet.
She attempted to put thoughts of Twilight Sparkle out of her mind as she rounded the final hill. There, in the valley below, sat Trottcliffe - a cluster of rustic buildings and pressed dirt paths nestled among the wide open fields. Even from this distance, Trixie could see ponies happily milling about the streets. Steeling herself against the chill, Trixie began the final push down into the valley and towards the town.
Even though it was only the early evening, in the middle of winter it was already getting dark when Trixie arrived in Trottcliffe. She followed the main road, admiring the decorations - every house was adorned with colourful lights, beautiful hoofmade decorations and garlands hung from trees, bunting was suspended between the rooftops. A few ponies stopped and looked curiously at Trixie and her carriage, but most were busy talking to friends or putting the final finishing touches to their displays.
Coming to the square at the centre of the village, Trixie looked around for somewhere to set up for her performance. Right in the middle, at the base of the village’s big Hearth’s Warming tree, she saw the villagers had already set up a wooden stage. It was centrally placed, had a hoofpainted wooden set, and was lit by the lights from the tree above it.
They must have heard I was coming, Trixie thought. Word of her humiliation at the hooves of Twilight Sparkle must not have filtered through to this part of Equestria.
Well, nothing less than I deserve.
Trixie stopped her carriage at the side of the stage, and began unpacking her props. Hoofcuffs, blindfold, rubber chicken, copious amounts of Griffonian fireworks… she began piling everything she needed up behind the stage ready for her performance, moving a few boxes of props and a badly painted cardboard windigo out of the way.
She was so busy setting up, that she didn’t hear the sound of little hooves approaching until one grabbed at her cloak. She spun around and came face-to-face with a dozen fillies and colts, all in costume.
“Umm… excuse me, miss,” the little colt at the front said. He was a dark brown earth pony, dressed like some sort of mediaeval official in a homemade burgundy cloak. “We’re here for the show.”
Ah, these must be fans, Trixie thought. A little earlier than she’d expected - they certainly were eager in Trottcliffe. Quickly switching into showpony mode, she put on her Great and Powerful Voice™ and exclaimed, “Welcome, young fans, to the Festive and Yuletide Trixie’s Hearth’s Warming Eve Extravaganza!”
A dozen pairs of eyes stared at her blankly. Hmm… maybe that name could be snappier, Trixie thought.
“Watch as Trixie reaches new heights of seasonal magical entertainment - gasp as she sees inside wrapped presents using only her mind, scream as she summons the terrifying abominable snowpony, applaud manically as she makes ten whole figgy puddings disappear!”
The colt at the front of the group did not seem impressed. “No, I meant we’re here for our show. We’re doing the Hearth’s Warming pageant for the adults, and you’re standing on our stage.”
“Your… show?” Trixie said. “But I thought this was…” Come to think of it, that would explain why the villagers had a stage set up already, and why there were a dozen foals dressed like characters from Ogres and Oubliettes.
“Well, surely the adults would rather see Trixie vanquish ten figgy puddings than whatever performance you’re going to put on.”
“Not really,” said the colt. “Get off of there, we need to set up.”
This pony was really starting to get on Trixie’s nerves. “Well, surely-”
“Wait, are those fireworks?” he said, interrupting her. “That’s it, I’m getting the teacher.”
But he didn’t need to, because at that moment Trixie saw a mare trotting across the square who could only have been the teacher. She was a middle aged earth pony mare, with a white coat, light blue mane and a clipboard for a cutie mark.
“What’s going on here?” she barked. “What are you doing on our stage? Get down from there.”
“I tried to tell her, miss,” the dark brown colt said.
“Please, the Great and Powerful Trixie merely intends to borrow your stage to perform her Hearth’s Warming Eve Extravaganza. You can have it back afterwards.”
“We don’t have time for this. The parents will be arriving soon - the pageant starts in an hour. We need to set up. Get off of there!”
Trixie was about to say the thing about the figgy puddings again, but something about the mare’s face told her it would be fruitless. “Fine,” she said, petulantly. “Trixie will take her performance elsewhere.”
“Yes, please do,” said the insufferable colt. If he had been closer Trixie might have tried to take a swipe at him.
Trixie started collecting up her fireworks and other props. “Come on, come on,” barked the teacher. Then she turned and started speaking to her students. “Now Cedar, I hope you remember your lines this year. Millet - remember not to come on with the windigo until after you hear your cue. Buttercup - what are you wearing? You’re meant to be a pegasus soldier. Is that a hula skirt?”
Leaving the teacher and foals, Trixie began pulling her cart away. Fortunately, it contained everything she needed to set up her travelling stage, so she didn’t need their one at all. She stopped at the opposite side of the square - this would be the perfect place for her performance. If these foals wanted to try and upstage the Great and Powerful Trixie, she would show them who was the finest Hearth’s Warming entertainer. Just wait - in an hour, this square would be thronging with ponies here to see Trixie.
An hour later, and the square was indeed filled with ponies. Unfortunately, they were all facing the wrong way. Still, as soon as Trixie’s show started that would all change.
In the distance, Trixie could hear the pageant beginning as a small green filly stepped to the front of the stage and began narrating the introduction.
“Long ago, before the p-p-peaceful reign of Equestria- I mean Celestia…”
Trixie shook her head. This filly had clearly not mastered the Great and Powerful Voice™. Time for her to show them how it was done.
A quick flash of Trixie’s horn, and the machinery in her cart whirred to life. As the sound system began blasting a rendition of Hark! The Peaceful Ponies Sing, a fusillade of fireworks exploded overhead, bathing the town square in flashes of green, red and purple. Trixie took a deep breath, and began her performance.
“Fillies and gentlecolts of Trottcliffe, it is time for the Festive and Yuletide Trixie’s Hearth’s Warming Eve Extravaganza! Prepare for two hours of thrilling magical entertainment with a seasonal twist, followed by an opportunity for last-minute Hearth’s Warming gift shopping with a range of Great and Powerful Merchandise™ at reasonable prices.”
The chorus of boos that followed broke Trixie out of her flow. She glanced down at the audience and saw rows upon rows of ponies all glaring at her.
Trixie knew how to deal with hecklers. “Well, it seems we have a couple of neigh-sayers in the audience. Will those ponies challenge-”
“Shut up!” shouted one stallion two or three rows back. “We’re here to see our kids put on their pageant, not whatever this is!” Murmurs of agreement travelled through the hostile crowd.
Uh oh, I’m losing them, Trixie thought. Time to break out the figgy puddings.
Using her magic, she wheeled out a cart from the wings of the stage, with ten large, round puddings sitting on plates.
“Now be amazed as the Great and Powerful Trixie calls upon the magic of Hearth’s Warming to make these puddings disappear!”
Trixie closed her eyes in concentration and lit up her horn. With a flash, the plates were empty and the puddings had gone.
“Huzzah!” she exclaimed.
The boos and angry mutterings were stronger this time, and Trixie had a sudden flashback to her terrible experience in Ponyville.
The teacher walked up to Trixie’s stage. “What are you doing? You’re interrupting the performance!” she hissed.
“Well, I… I…” Trixie looked around at all the furious faces. She could see she wasn’t winning them over and she was worried what would happen if they got much angrier. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“Good,” said the teacher, who turned on her hooves and marched back over to the pageant stage. The assembled ponies all slowly turned away from Trixie too, some after shooting her a final angry glare.
As the pageant resumed, it was clear Trixie had completely lost her audience. What’s so great about this pageant anyway? she thought. I bet there’s not even any magic in it.
Craning her neck to see over the crowd, Trixie saw the foals were still telling the story of the three divided pony tribes. Princess Platinum was explaining to Clover the Clever about her plan to find a new land for the unicorns - except, in this majority earth pony settlement, they were both played by earth ponies wearing fake horns on headbands.
Well that’s just offensive, Trixie thought to herself.
Then, as the ‘unicorns’ walked off stage, the insufferable brown colt from earlier reappeared to take their place. It looked as though he was playing Chancellor Puddinghead, as he was now wearing a much-too-large headdress as well as his burgundy cloak. Still, he looked better than the filly playing Smart Cookie, who was starting off into space and whose costume seemed to be cut from an old sack.
The colt stepped to the front of the stage and cleared his throat before launching into his speech. Trixie rolled her eyes. She hated to admit it, but he was actually the best actor yet.
Well, if these ponies aren’t interested in my show, maybe I can help this charming young colt with his performance, Trixie thought.
She walked towards the pageant stage while the colt continued his speech. None of the ponies in the audience noticed her, as they were clearly too enraptured by his performance. She crept around the back and hid herself among the lower branches of the Hearth’s Warming tree. Here, she could see the stagehands rushing back and forth getting the props and set changes ready, while the teacher fussed over the colt playing Commander Hurricane, who had apparently lost one of his fake cardboard wings.
She waited for a few minutes, until Puddinghead, Princess Platinum and the one-winged Commander Hurricane were on stage together. This was the scene when the tribal leaders’ arguing causes the windigoes to return, and with them the snow and ice. Behind the scenes, a stagehand stood ready with the snow machine, while another had the windigo puppet.
Perhaps I can help them with their special effects, Trixie thought.
With a flash of her horn, Trixie flipped the dial on the side of the snow machine up to ‘11’. Why does it even go that high? That’s just asking for trouble, she thought as she sat back, snickering into her hoof.
“Wait a minute, where did all this snow come from anyway?” came the colt’s voice from on stage. Realising this line was his cue, the stagehand responsible for the snow machine fumbled around, looking for the ‘on’ switch.
WHOOSH.
Within a moment, the whole stage, and everypony on it, was partially buried in a thick blanket of white. It was like an avalanche had hit the stage. Commander Hurricane lost his other wing, while Princess Platinum’s horn had been dislodged and was now sticking out the side of her face. The colt playing Puddinghead just seemed stunned.
Not realising there had been a malfunction, the filly with the windigo prop got ready to release it. It was supposed to swing across stage suspended from a rope, but Trixie thought she could make it a little more realistic.
If there was one thing Trixie could do well, it was illusion magic - years of arranging the special effects for her shows had given her enough experience. Scrunching her face in concentration, Trixie summoned the magical image of a windigo. It was at least as large as two ponies, and glowed with a spectral hue. It rushed across the stage towards the audience, roaring, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
The foals playing Princess Platinum and Puddinghead, and several ponies in the front row, screamed. The colt playing Commander Hurricane fainted. The filly with the windigo prop looked around. “Did I do that?” she asked.
Trixie couldn’t take it, and began laughing into her hoof. Oh, this was almost as much fun as one of her performances. The look on that colt’s face when the windigo had rushed at him was priceless! And the way Commander Hurricane had fainted! And the way-
“Excuse me.”
Uh oh. The teacher was nose-to-nose with Trixie, and looked very angry.
“Just what are you doing back here?”
“Ah - the Great and Powerful Trixie came back to see if she could help out. Yep!”
“Well you can’t be back here. This is for stagehands and performers only.”
“But the Great and Powerful-”
“Go back and join the audience!” the teacher nearly shouted.
“Hmph. Fine!” said Trixie. At least she had managed to disrupt the pageant. That’s what these ponies get for not recognising the superior performance when presented with it. Why, after that debacle the ponies would probably be begging the Great and Powerful Trixie for an encore. Why, they probably-
“That was amazing!”
“Who knew schoolfoals could come up with special effects so good?”
What. Had Trixie heard that right? Were ponies really enjoying this?
“Are you serious?” she asked one mare, who was watching the pageant with a silly, wide-eyed grin on her face. “Do you really think this is good? There is way too much snow on the stage! And Commander Hurricane doesn’t have any wings!”
But the mare didn't listen. “That windigo was amazing! The pageant is never normally this good," she said.
“That was my daughter who did the windigo prop!” another mare shouted. “I wonder how she got it to look so real?”
“Be quiet, we’re missing it!” said the stallion next to them.
Trixie just facehoofed. She needed a lie down. She staggered back to her wagon, listening to that insufferable colt giving a monologue about the importance of harmony and friendship. She kicked open the door - she would sort out packing away her things later. Feeling defeated, she threw herself down on a burlap sack full of old props.
SQUISH.
Oh… I forgot that’s where the figgy puddings get teleported to.
Trixie laid on her hammock in her wagon, sulking. What a day, she thought. Outside, she could hear music and ponies laughing, but she knew they didn’t want her there. She put her pillow over the head to try and drown out the noise, and attempted to get to sleep.
A restless few minutes passed.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
“Miss, are you in there?”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
What now? Grumbling, Trixie got to her hooves and opened the door. On the other side, with his hoof raised ready to knock again, was ‘Chancellor Puddinghead’, the dark brown colt from the play. Trixie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is… busy. What do you want?”
“Oh. Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come to the Hearth’s Warming Eve potluck.”
“Potluck?”
“Yes, it’s tradition. Every year, after the pageant we hold a big potluck with the whole village. Everypony brings something. There’s sandwiches, cakes, a collection of cheeses-”
“-And peanut butter and crackers?"
"Err, I guess."
"Ah - are you sure? Trixie wouldn’t have anything to bring…”
“That’s okay. You’re a guest.”
“I don’t know… are you sure those ponies would want Trixie at their potluck?”
“Of course! Any guest to Trottcliffe is welcome at the potluck. We’re very welcoming around here.”
She thought about it for a moment. “And it’s free? Well, Trixie’s finances are going to be a bit stretched this month, seeing as she couldn’t sell any Great and Powerful Merchandise™, so she could do with a free meal when she gets it. Okay - lead her to this potluck!”
The colt chuckled. “And I’m sorry you didn’t get to do your performance earlier, by the way,” he said. He held out his hoof as though meeting her for the first time. “My name is Tilled Earth.”
“Good to meet you, Tilled. I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
And Trixie’s heart grew three sizes that day, but only because she consumed enough food at the potluck to kill a lesser mare.
THE END
