Hearth's Warming's Heart
by The Lotus Tea Dragon
"Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright..."
It was Hearth's Warming night, and the crisp, light voices of the carolers floated through the walls, and into the warm confines of the Golden Oaks library. Safe from the blanket of winter's snow that covered the tiny burg of Ponyville, it's frost covered trees, and cold, northern winds goading every pony to find shelter from it's icy tendrils, a crackling fire cast it's light from the old brick fireplace, illuminating the sitting area in it's soft glow, it's heat reaching out to two mares, one lavender unicorn, and one midnight blue alicorn, who were huddled together on the sofa, comforted in each other's sleeping embrace. Next to the sofa, a purple dragon lays dozing, curled up in his wicker basket, an owl perched on his scaly back, and a phoenix cuddled in the dragon's short, stubby arms.
Across town, along the snow covered streets, the aroma of soft, cinnamon baked cookies wafted from a pink, pastry shaped building, into the cold, causing pony passersby to stop and stare through the large glass front window of Sugarcube Corner, taking in all of the delicious treats just waiting to be bought by hungry ponies in the mood for sprinkled sweets. Through that window, a pink pony could be seen humming merrily to herself, and, on occasion, take bites from what appeared to be a pink frosting covered cupcake. As we begin to move on, a blond mare with a grey coat, and bubbles on her flank, opens the glass door, her nose upturned and a smile on her face as she greets the young pink mare at the counter.
Down two streets, and over one more, a lovely, white, snow covered edifice, shaped like a carousel, provided refuge from the cold, and inside it's austere, but lovely interior, a coterie of dresses, laced with ribbons and bows, gave off the dazzling sentiment of Hearth's Warming ornaments on display. Up the stairs, in a candle lit room, a beautiful white unicorn mare, with her exquisitely coiffed purple mane, lay in her bed, ensconced with soft quilt and satin throw pillows, and sipped a cup of hot chocolate, engrossed in a romance novel. She glanced up for a moment as a snowball flew past her window, for outside, in the snow covered yard behind the boutique, three fillies were engaged in a snowball fight to the death, their red capes used as shields against the onslaught of frozen projectiles, their giggles could be heard through the upstairs window, and the lovely white mare smiled to herself and turned back to her book.
Up in the air, and just on the outskirts of Ponyville, a cloud house, it's rainbow falls long gone cold and quiet, lay still and empty in the night.
Downward toward the ground, along a country road, and across a small hoofbridge, lay a tiny cottage, a yellow light from a small window casting shadows onto the snow covered porch. A gauzy wisp of smoke floated upward from the chimney, while inside the house was aglow with warm candles, and a butter yellow pegasus with a soft pink mane busily moving about, her small army of woodland creatures gathering around her, chirping, squeaking, squawking, and chittering, some riding on her shoulders, others at her hooves, rubbing them affectionately as she filled their various bowls with food.
After this chore was finished, she returned the bag of food to the small kitchen, returning to find one of the squirrels waving her over to the overstuffed sofa, beckoning her to sit down. Looking around to see that the other animals were occupying themselves with their meals, she did so. The squirrel jumped up onto the sofa and pulled, from behind it's back, a walnut with a ribbon tied around it. The butter yellow pegasus smiled gently, and scooped up the squirrel to nuzzle it with her cheek.
Moving further along, away from the comfortable cottage, along the road, and then up the snow covered, windswept and barren orchard, we arrive at a farm. Past the barn, around the chicken coop, beyond the shed, and into the rustic home of the orchard's owners, we see a quiet, empty living room, the fire long since out. From a room off to the side can be heard light snores, the sounds of an older mare sleeping peacefully under a pile of blankets, her walker sitting off to the side of the bed. Slowly moving up the stairs, without a sound, aside from the tick tock of the grandfather clock downstairs in the main hallway, to the first room on the left, the guest bedroom. Inside it, on the soft bed, lay a snoozing pony, her black, silver, and purple mane sticking out above the plush comforter, a single purple hoof hanging off the edge of the bed.
The next room over, a small candle sits on a writing desk, where the sounds of quill on parchment can be heard coming from the hoof of a brick red stallion, his eyes deep in concentration, the envelope laying next to it addressed to a small cottage not too far from the farm house, or the young stallion's thoughts.
In the last room, at the far end of the darkened, and cold hallway, the sounds of light breathing can be heard from inside. A cowpony hat can be seen atop the bed post, a lasso on the dresser. It is a spartan room, containing few material treasures, but it is filled with something much greater, much more valuable, for on the bed, lay a blond country earth pony, and next to her, a cyan and spectral maned pegasus. They lay there together, peaceful, dreaming wonderful dreams of love, of life, of the season. Sugar plums and Zap apples dance in the heads, while their forelegs and hindlegs, intertwined in the limbs of the other, remind them that sweet dreams do come true.
And so I bid you a fond good night,
and Happy Hearth's Warming, my friends. May you all find peace and love.
