The thing I value most
A retelling of ‘The gift of the Magi,’ a short story written by O. Henry.
A lone white mare sat on a small sofa in the middle of her living room. Looking to her coffee table, she counted for the umpteenth time the small amount of bits placed there.
One, two, three, four. Four bits. Four bits that were the product of much scrimping and saving. Four bits saved through desperate and persistent haggling in the market, convincing the grocer and their landlord to take a little less.
Those four bits were all that she had, and tomorrow was Hearth’s Warming.
The white unicorn let out a groan and fell back on the couch. How in Equestria was she supposed to find a gift for husband with only four bits?
Idly, the mare played with a lock of her mane, thinking of her predicament. She and her husband lived alone in a small, single bedroom apartment in the lower district of Canterlot. They hadn’t been married long and both had nary a bit to their name, but through skillful budgeting and keeping a tight belt they managed to get by. The couple loved each other dearly and every night when her husband returned home, she made sure that he knew she loved him. He did the same, showering her with love and affection through subtle gestures and stolen kisses.
She ran their names through her head again. Mr. and Mrs. Fancypants and Fleur-De-Lis. She loved the sound of it, her own name seeming inadequate to identify her by itself. She felt a flutter in her chest as she thought of him. Fancy worked so hard to provide for them. The long hours working his hooves to the bone making designer clothes for his thankless employer, clothes that would probably only get thrown out when the next season started. Working as often as he could, saving every bit he could so that one day he might have his own boutique and make his own line of clothing. Surely there must be something she could get him. Thinking that she might get some ideas by looking around, she donned her hat and coat and stepped out into the cold.
White snow covered the rooftops of the city of Canterlot, giving her cause to stop just outside the door for her eyes to adjust to the glare. Several foals, having been released from the confines of school a week ago, romped and played in the streets, enjoying the hours of their freedom. Carolers stood on street corners, singing of the love and friendship between the founders of Equestria and accepting donations for some charity or another.
As Fleur walked around town, looking in the various windows and displays elegantly arranged to entice buyers, nothing struck her as the perfect gift for the one she loved. Just as she was deciding to give up and take her search to another corner of the market, she saw it. There in the window of the jewelry shop was the perfect gift. She rushed into the store and searched the displays to get a closer look.
The item in question was a platinum watch chain. It was a simple thing, holding no complex design, but beautiful enough in its simplicity that it didn’t need to. It was as if the piece had been made for him and him alone.
Of their few possessions, there was one that her husband valued greatly. It was a gold pocket watch that had been passed down from his father and from his grandfather before that. Had a dragon been living in their building with his entire magnificent hoard, he would frown with jealousy at the sight of the watch, and his jewels would look as dull rocks.
The chain would certainly be a welcome addition to the watch, which her husband kept attached to his vest by an unseemly leather strap, causing him embarrassment enough to check the watch discreetly and not often. With the platinum chain, he could wear the watch with the pride that it deserved.
“May I help you, madam?” asked the store clerk, startling her.
“No, no thank you,” she quickly replied, turning and heading back out into the cold Canterlot streets. Longingly, she looked back in the shop at the chain again and resolved that she had to have it for her special somepony.
With renewed vigor in her heart and a purpose in her step, she made her way around town, looking and trying to think of some way to get the money for the gift. She looked and looked for an hour until she came across a small shop lodged between two larger ones, making it look small enough by comparison that she almost didn’t notice it. ‘Madame Toupee’s Wigs’ was scrawled in neat, flowing cursive on a large sign above the door.
Normally Fleur would have passed the shop without a second thought. After all, she had a full head of hair, of which she took great care and pride in. Her long, pink tresses were so magnificent that some had commented to her that they rivaled the beauty of Celestia’s own coiffure portrayed in the stained glass windows of her court. The small sign in the window of the store, however, gave her pause to consider a viable option.
‘We Buy Hair.’
Tentatively she entered, ringing the little bell above the door and calling the attention of the proprietor. A portly mare stepped forth from the back of the shop, her mane done up in a tight bun behind her head.
“Do you…do you buy hair?” asked Fleur.
“Well it says so in the window doesn’t it?” the proprietor replied. “Take off your hat and we’ll have a look.”
Hesitantly, the unicorn complied, removing her head covering and letting her long, pink tresses flow down her shoulders, almost reaching the floor. The proprietor examined it for a few moments, humming in thought to herself.
“Thirty bits.”
The white mare cringed inwardly. Her hair was very precious to her and she was loath to give it up. The proprietor sensed her hesitance.
“Are you sure this is what you want, dear?”
She almost made the decision to back out. She thought of her Fancypants, how wonderful he was, how much she cared for him. He’d said in his wedding vows that he was willing to do anything to make her happy. She knew that he hated working for his employer, that he worked so hard making designs that would have somepony else’s name put on them. Everything he did, he did so that they could have a better life together. He deserved the gift she was doing this for.
She imagined the look on his face when he opened his gift and the choice was clear.
“Yes, please do it quickly.”
Taking out a pair of scissors, the proprietor set to work cutting away her mane. When she was done, what remained was styled rather fashionably and Fleur returned her hat to her head and excitedly rushed back to the jewelry store.
“Now may I help you?” asked the clerk as she walked up to the display.
“Yes, please,” she replied cheerfully, ignoring the slight annoyance of his tone. “May I see that platinum fob chain?”
He complied, bringing the chain out from the display and placing it on the counter. Out from behind the glass it looked even more magnificent, gleaming in the light of the shop. She took it in her magic, imagining how splendid it would look hanging from her husband’s vest.
“How much is it?” she asked, unconsciously biting her lower lip.
The salespony returned the chain to its stand and looked at the price tag placed there. “Thirty-two bits,” he said curtly.
“I’ll take it,” she replied, feeling an elation so great she thought it might grant her the ability to fly. “And would you please gift wrap it?”
With her new purchase safely tucked in the pocket of her coat, she made her way home, galloping like an excited filly rushing home to the promise of some special surprise. Arriving home, she threw off her coat and hat and placed the box carefully on the coffee table. It would still be a little while before her husband came home, which left her plenty of time to start dinner.
As she moved around the apartment working, she caught her reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall. She’d only given her appearance a cursory glance at the wig shop, partially because she was in a hurry, but also because she had been worried about instantly regretting her decision.
The proprietor of the wig shop had been quite skilled in the art of hairdressing, Fleur noted. Her mane had been layered and cut so it went about halfway down her neck and her bangs stopped just above her eyebrows.
Her eyes widened and she gasped as a thought crossed her mind. What if her husband didn’t like it? What if he felt guilty that she had given up what was precious to her in order to make him happy? What if instead of being a gesture of how much she loved him, he saw her gift as a reminder of how little they had?
She had no time to ponder these questions, as she heard the lock on the front door click.
“Darling, I’m home,” called her husband as he entered the apartment.
Fleur could do nothing but stand and watch as he came through the door, nervously biting her lip and hoping that he would still think she was pretty.
Fancy entered and closed the door behind him. His blue mane slightly mussed from the cold winter wind and his lack of a hat. The brown jacket he wore was tattered in several places and not quite thick enough to keep out the cold. He turned his smiling, tired face to greet his wife and froze, giving her a look that she could not read and did nothing to quell her fears. He didn’t seem angry, nor was he repulsed. If anything, his features displayed a kind of surprise.
“Please don’t look at me like that, darling,” she softly pleaded. “I wanted to get you a gift for Hearth’s Warming, so I cut my hair and sold it.”
“You…cut your hair,” was his reply, said in a somewhat stupefied manner, as if he had trouble processing the thought.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Please don’t be angry. I’m still me without my hair and it’ll grow back soon.” Her eyes watered and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I just wanted you to have the perfect gift…”
The stallion, seeing the effect he was having on his wife, realized that he had reacted poorly. He rushed over and gently placed a hoof on the side of her neck, just behind her jaw. Leaning in, he kissed her cheek, stopping the single tear in its tracks.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, Fleur. I’m not angry. I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.”
She sniffed and gave him a small smile. “I love you too.”
Tenderly she pressed her lips to his, melting into a gentle kiss as her head rested on his hoof. She let out a contented sigh and the couple broke the kiss and gazed into each other’s eyes, basking in the warmth of their love for each other.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, hesitating in his answer just long enough that she knew he was giving her his honest opinion, but not so long that he was doing it to spare her feelings. “You are beautiful to me regardless of your mane. I was merely a little surprised by it.” His horn glowed for a moment and a small box wrapped in festive paper with a white bow levitated out of the pocket of his jacket. “Here. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but you might as well open it now.”
He took a seat on their small couch and she sat next to him. The glow surrounding the box changed from blue to light pink as it moved from his magical grasp to hers. Ribbons and paper untied and unfolded, revealing the gift hidden inside. The white mare gasped and tears once again sprang forth.
Inside the small box was a set of three very ornate hair clips made of silver with gold trim. Each was adorned with one of the three symbols emblazoned on her flank that shared her namesake, as well as two pairs of pink pearls, one on each side. She had seen them in a store they passed one day and eyed them whenever she passed it, knowing she would never have something that nice. She didn’t think that her husband had noticed her look at them, but apparently he had, and now her hair was too short to wear them.
“Oh, Fancy,” she whispered, “they’re wonderful. I…I….”
The mare began to cry, partly from happiness and partly because she would not be able to appreciate his gift. In an instant, he had wrapped his hoof around her and she pressed her face into his chest, softly sobbing as he cooed comforting words in her ear.
“Shh, there there, darling, it’s all right. Like you said, your mane will grow back. You’ve told me before that it grows rather quickly.”
She sniffled and lifted her head to meet his, kissing him passionately. “Thank you, darling. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Fleur.”
Remembering her own gift, she lifted it from the table. “Here,” she said excitedly, “open your present.”
With great care the box was opened and her husband’s jaw dropped as he beheld his gift.
“Isn’t it wonderful, darling?” she squealed with excitement. “Take out your watch and let me see how it looks.”
Her husband said nothing, his eyes staying locked upon the fob chain. Slowly a mirthful smile spread across his muzzle and he started laughing. It started out as a small chuckle, slowly becoming louder and more mirthful the longer it progressed. He fell back onto the couch, his magical grasp on the box wavering and his sides shaking.
“What’s wrong? What’s so funny?” asked his wife, thinking she was missing out on some joke.
Eventually, his laughter subsided and he wiped a bit of moisture from his eye. “My, my. Aren’t we a foolish pair.”
“What is so amusing, Fancy?” she repeated, becoming a little irritated.
He tenderly wrapped a hoof around her. “Fleur, the watch is no longer in my possession.”
His wife opened her mouth in surprise.
“I sold it to buy your gift.”
Fleur felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks. With a trembling voice, she asked, “You…you sold your watch for me?”
The stallion touched a hoof to her face, wiping away her tears. “Please don’t cry, darling. Don’t be sad. I only-“
She cut him off, wrapping her hooves around his neck and kissing him with every ounce of enthusiasm she possessed. “Sad? How could I possibly be sad? I have the kindest, most caring, wonderful husband in the world and I. Am. The. Happiest. Mare. Ever.” She punctuated each word with a flurry of kisses to his nose, cheeks, forehead, anywhere her lips could reach.
He grasped her head in his hooves and pressed his lips to hers. When they finally broke the kiss, she rested her head on his chest. The two of them stayed there on the couch for a while, just enjoying being close to each other. She heard his heart beating in his chest, slow and strong and gave a contented sigh.
As she listened to the thumping of his heart, she was lulled into a state of contented restfulness, only broken when the beating was drowned out by a large grumble.
She lifted her head, giving him a playful smirk. “I don’t remember packing a dragon in your lunch today.”
They both chuckled at her little joke and got up off the couch to start dinner, her leaning against his side.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Fancy.”
He kissed her forehead. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Fleur. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
Author's Note
My dear readers,
Normally this is the part where the author will give some conclusion, leaving the story on a happy or pensive note. I am but an amateur and have no such words, but I also feel that something needs to be said. So, I leave you with the very words that O. Henry used to conclude this tale when he told it.
“The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.”
I wish you all a blessed and wonderful Hearth’s Warming and a happy New Year.
