Chapters “Well, RD, if’n y’all wanna know so bad, then have a sit an’ I’ll tell the whole yarn. See, I was comin’ home from the market, an’ hoo boy, that was a plum awesome day! Sold every apple in my cart, every pie, an’ even them half-burned fritters that AB made. I swore I’d drop ‘em in a ditch on the way over, or use ‘em for pavin’ stones on the front walk, but I plum forgot an’ wouldn’t you know it? Little suckers sold like they was Granny’s own! I tell ya what, I … oh, yeah, y’all were askin’ ‘bout how I ended up like this.
“It’s been kinda a, uh … shucks, this is right embarrasin’. I had a real dry spell lately, if y’all know what I mean. Mac gone an’ twisted his ankle, so I had to pull double shifts for the last month buckin’ trees, patchin’ up the fence, bakin’ everythin’ for market, haulin’ the cart to an’ fro. I been tuckered out every day an’ night. I just ain’t had no time nor energy for gettin’ all frisky like that. Worse, every day I been covered in mud, sweat, apple peelin’s, an’ more, which ain’t exactly left me the most attractive o’ options, y’all get my drift?
“So there I was, packed up early thanks to sellin’ out, and took my sweet time headin’ back. AB was off with her friends an’ Mac was at least okay enough to watch Granny Smith, so there weren’t no rush to get back to Sweet Apple Acres. I was feelin’ mighty fine an’ ain’t even broke a sweat yet, and wouldn’t y’all know my luck? Trottin’ along from the other direction comes these two sweet mares, smilin’ an’ laughin’ just as pretty as you please. I stopped the cart long enough to tip my hat all polite like, an’ yeah, I mighta been lettin’ my eyes wander a bit. What? I ain’t dead! A mare’s got needs, y’all know.
“I weren’t the only one checkin’ out the wares, I guess. They asked me if I was Applejack, ‘the’ Applejack, in fact. Told ‘em so, and told ‘em they had me at a loss. These fine fillies introduced themselves as Java Joy an’ Wishin’ Star. Java was thin as a rail an’ half a head taller’n me, with this gorgeous coat the color o’ applewood bark in Spring. Sparklin’ eyes greener’n new apples an’ a mane to match, I tell ya what! An’ Wish weren’t hard on the eyes, neither. Midnight blue tip to tail, an’ a little bit o’ meat on ‘er, too. Tarnation, she looked like she coulda bucked the whole West Orchard an’ come back for more.
“Java said they was lookin’ for the best apples in Ponyville an’ they heard I was the mare to see. Now, if that ain’t a pickup line bein’ hoofed to me on a silver platter, then I don’t know what is. Told ‘er the honest truth - I was sold out for the day, but I could dang sure find some extra if they’d head back to the farm with me. Her an’ Wish sidled up next to me, a might closer’n strangers oughta, an’ we headed out. They was gigglin’ an’ shootin’ looks back an’ forth an’ like they was about to open a big ol’ orange Hearth’s Warmin’ present. Which, truth be told, I was kinda hopin’ would be the case afore the night was over. Tellin’ me I was the Apple they really came to taste weren’t hurtin’ none, either.
“Now ‘bout halfway home they started rubbin’ up against me in ways I ain’t been rubbed near often enough here lately. I was sweatin’ like a mule in Summer, and Wish whispered somethin’ in my ear to the effect of, ‘you, me, her an’ that stand o’ trees over there’. I weren’t exactly thinkin’ with the right set o’ brains by this point, so off we went, cross the field an’ into this thick little glen off the road a piece. I know, I know, they’s strangers but I was frustrated an’ feelin’ fine an’ if y’all gotta know, I was ‘bout as horny as a ten-peckered owl.
“I shucked off the cart harness an’ they backed me up against this here tree, kissin’ all the right places, hooves goin’ exactly where they needed to be goin’, an’ all. Java leaned in the cart an’ hauled out my lasso, an’ I just kinda nodded. That’s usually more your thing, I know, but my brain was a few apples short o’ a bushel by this time, right? Afore I knew it, I was trussed up tighter’n Twilight’s … well, y’all know. So I’m thinkin, dry spell, it’s been nice knowin’ ya, ‘cause AJ’s goin’ places tonight, ya hear?
“Well, goin’ straight up, it seems. Them two hung my rocks-for-brains self up like a sack o’ taters an’ tied the rope off! Apparently Java an’ Wish were goin’ places too, ‘cause Wish hitched up my cart an’ took off, Java countin’ my bits the whole time, the both of ‘em laughin’ like madmares.
“Now, see, I been hangin’ upside down by my hooves for right near three hours here, an’ the blood’s been rushin’ to my head like ponies to the barrel on Cider Day. I done lost my best cart, four brand new barrels, an’ a saddlebag full o’ bits. To top it all off, Java an’ Wish had me tied up an’ willin’ and they ain’t even had the decency to end my dry spell, dangit! So if y’all could do a mare the common courtesy o’ cuttin’ me down, I’d appreciate it mightily.
“Hey, where y’all goin’, Dash? Come back here, ya darn fool featherbrain pegasus! Get your sorry carcass back here an’ cut me down! Whatta y’all mean, ‘just hang out’? Real funny, Rainbow, now …
“Did she just say she was goin’ to fetch Pinkie an’ her, uh, ‘tools’?
“Oh, horseapples. This here’s gonna be a long night.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 247. The prompt: Write a story featuring one (or more) of the following original characters. Everything but the name is up to you, including race, gender, appearance, cutie mark, and personality. Feel free to include any other original or canon characters alongside them. OC #1: Wishing Star OC #2: Java Joy OC #3: Rock Solid.
horny as a ten-peckered owl = a line from Heathers.
Deep Into That Darkness Peering
Dusk closed around the little pegasus as she trembled at the edge of the Everfree forest. Her cottage lay a stone’s throw behind her, warm and safe and beckoning, yet she quaked and quailed for long minutes as precious daylight bled off into the horizon. Finally she took a deep breath, ruffled her pale yellow wings, and began the long walk into darkness.
Starlight and moonglow lit her way as she trotted down a well-worn path through underbrush and scrub. The soft squelch of damp earth and wet leaves softened her hoofsteps despite the added weight of saddlebags at her side. Through twists and bends the path led deeper, towering trees looming around every corner with house-thick trunks and branches like leafy umbrellas sized for giants.
Soon, too soon, the forest canopy above grew thick and layered, filtering out what little midnight light remained and plunging the woodland floor into cloying blackness. She froze as the serenade of crickets and nighttime birds gave way to the deathly silence of whistling breeze and oppressive stillness. Her mane drooped across her face, its cotton-candy pinkness now as grey as her coat in the inky lightless woods. She glanced side to side, nervous and shaking, searching the brush for a sign, a marker, any hint of the path.
Setting her jaw despite the trembling in her bones, she picked her way gingerly across the forest, trusting memories and hope and no small amount of luck to keep her moving toward her goal. The path became a tangle and with each misstep she was punished by rocks underhoof, walls of briars, and the lurking sense that she was far, far from alone.
She felt eyes on her, great and small, hungry and malevolent, and stood stock-still, mid-stride, willing her falling hooves not to find the ground. Shudders wracked her every move as she held her breath. Gravity fought her, weight against nature, and won as her hoof fluttered gently down into soft soil. Letting out a great and long-held breath behind a relieved smile, she took a single step. The twig her hoof found was the tiniest of all its branch-brothers, and her own steps were as dainty as dewdrops, but it was enough. A crack echoed through the darkened wood and her heart stopped.
Eyes she’d only felt now shot open, glowing and surrounding her, and the whistle of night winds became growls and snarls on every side. They held a frozen standoff for long seconds, predators and pegasus, hunters and prey. With the adrenalin of panic and terror she bolted, cutting through ranks of shining eyes and gleaming teeth. Her hooves thundered through the trees as claws and fangs hurtled after her. Ahead, too far, she saw the glow that marked her destination as marauders furred and scaled and horned tore at her heels. Brambles and limbs raked her sides as she galloped toward the light while howling and hot breath closed the distance from behind.
From ahead she could make out a figure silhouetted in the light of an open doorway, urging her onward as she heard encouragement pierce the night. “Faster, pony, to my home make haste! Run! Run, Fluttershy, or two lives you’ll waste!”
She closed her eyes and dove the distance, careening through the doorway in a crash of feathers and dust, slamming into a low bench as vials and cups shattered around her. She looked up in time to see a familiar zebra slam the cottage door shut and bolt it closed. The zebra dug her hooves into the dusty floor of her forest home, muscles straining as she gritted her teeth and threw her weight against the oaken door. Seconds later a massive weight bowled into the creaking hardwood, sending splinters flying as the zebra fought to keep it upright. Frustrated growls and the scratching of claws continued for minute after minute before receding into the wooded night.
Slumping to the floor next to the panting pegasus, Zecora wiped sweat from her brow and dirt from her mane and glanced at the bulging saddlebags. "You received my message, of the medicinal herbs I seek? I cannot treat the Gray Cough without them, and our forest friends grow weak."
"Yes," Fluttershy said, retrieving a thick packet from her bags. "Mister Crow brought me the news. He was missing more than a few feathers by the time he reached me, so I let him stay with my other bird friends for a while. I hope I found everything you needed."
Sniffing the twine-tied bundle, Zecora nodded. "My thanks to you for bringing these herbs! Without them my medicines would not have been at their best. I could not easily leave the forest to retrieve them myself, as you probably guessed." She grinned and turned to her disheveled guest. “The wolves will not return tonight, I think. Perhaps now we’ve both earned a drink?”
Fluttershy smiled a tired smile, her chest still heaving. “Thought you’d say that,” she giggled weakly, “so I brought you a present along with the herbs. I, um, didn’t know which one to get, so I, ah … I hope you like it.” Reaching into her rumpled and torn saddlebag, she retrieved a small tea-tin and held it out in trembling hooves. “Oh, it’s not your favorite, I just know it! I could go back and get something different, if you want.”
Zecora took the container, eyeing it closely as she frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Fluttershy, see that you do. And while you’re out, perhaps you could offer the wolves a cup, too?”
The yellow pony’s eyes went wide for a moment before both mares broke into cackling laughs and collapsed onto the floor, rolling and hooting and howling until happy tears replaced the sweat on their muzzles. When the gales of laughter finally settled and they could breathe once more, Fluttershy lay back against a low cushion before the zebra’s roaring fireplace while Zecora rested her head on the pegasus’ chest.
“Thank you, dear, for the Crystal Empire tea! I’d like to share a cup or two, if we might.” Running a gold-shod hoof through the yellow fur beneath her, she added, “But instead of returning through the Everfree in darkness, perhaps you’d honor me by staying the night?”
Wrapping a tattered wing around the zebra, Fluttershy beamed and whispered, “Oh, thank you, I’d love to! I was, um, kind of hoping you’d say that.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 237. The Prompt: The secret in the heart of the Everfree.
Title is a line from Poe's The Raven .
This was only the second time I'd ever written Zecora. Credit to NorsePony for editing suggestions on this piece.
Mister Crow is an Unreal Tournament 2004 reference.
It was a good day for spring cleaning, and that meant a good day for Fluttershy. Humming a high-noted and singsong tune, she flitted about her woodland cottage dusting and wiping and smiling. In truth she had far fewer bad days than most ponies would’ve thought. Certainly there was the occasional call from Twilight to save the world, which usually involved dark and terrifying things she didn’t care to think about. Since the new librarian arrived in Ponyville there had been lots of these little surprises but Fluttershy was quite adept at forgetting and repressing and mis-remembering. On balance she had more good days than bad, and this was another of the good days.
There had been more of the good days, lots of them, since she found Rainbow Dash in her garden, perched on a stump like a beautiful parti-colored scarecrow. They had been fast friends in flight school, and she owed Rainbow far too many favors to count. There were bad days back then but Dash made them go away, shooing away bullies and silencing name-callers and helping her remember to laugh. Fluttershy giggled as she cleaned, old giggles and private flying lessons and cool autumn nights spent under a blanket of blue wings leaping to mind. Yes, those were the good days, the ones worth remembering.
When Rainbow came back a few months ago, the good days started again. She had been nervous, unsure, halting, and Fluttershy invited her inside because that’s what old friends do. Rainbow needed some giggles and some private time and some warm spring nights spent under a blanket of yellow wings, and Fluttershy owed her that much at least. Rainbow Dash never stayed, visiting just long enough to hold tight and cry into a pink mane and sweat and bite and taste. Those were good days, too, even when Dash left. She always left but that didn’t change the fact that no matter what else happened, that had definitely been a good day.
Good days didn’t come as often now that Dash had been accepted into the Wonderbolts Academy. She needed her practice time and her workout time and her study time and lots of other times that weren’t time with Fluttershy. That was okay, though. Sometimes Dash took a weekend off and came to visit like she used to. Fluttershy snatched the sheets off her bed, the sudden rip of stained and damp cloth sending a cloud of blue and yellow feathers into the air. They wafted through the bedroom like slow-motion butterflies, brilliant cerulean and pale canary and sometimes a darker burnt yellow. Sometimes there were orange hairs in Dash’s mane at night and on Fluttershy’s pillow in the morning that weren’t Dash’s orange. Those were harder to forget and made the good days rarer.
Fluttershy carefully packed away her extra place settings and spare china. She usually ate alone now and didn’t need to be ready to fix a midnight meal for wayward pegasi. The last few weeks Rainbow barely came by at all; when she did she was distant and cold and rough. That was fine too – as long as Dash left happy, then Shy could count it as a good day. When happy wasn’t an option, she could settle for happier, at least. If that didn’t work then what was a good friend to do except offer a little distraction and comfort? It shouldn’t matter to her that Rainbow smelled like fire and her kisses tasted like somepony else – it was Rainbow Dash, and that alone made it a good day.
She sat at her kitchen table, now dusted and spotless. Behind her a clock ticked while creatures of all descriptions slept in their nests and holes and burrows. There was still time for it to be a good day today. Despite the lack of blue wings entwined with hers and the absence of rainbow mane in her bed, despite the stack of letters telling her how Dash had turned to Spitfire for things Shy could never do and couldn’t provide, and how they’d become serious and she wouldn’t be coming by any more, today could still turn out to be a good day. Just like yesterday and the day before and all the others, Fluttershy sat alone, hoping that this would be a good day, and hope was enough. It had to be enough.
The clock ticked and midnight rolled past. She sighed and promised herself she’d dream about flying and laughing and warmth again as she slipped into bed. Yes, tomorrow would be a good day. There were lots and lots of tomorrows and surely one of them would be a good day again.
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # . The Prompt: One pony turning away from another pony.
Some structural inspiration (not plotwise, obviously) from this story.
This story was originally meant to be a chapter of If the Flight Suit Fits , but I decided to write Fluttershy out of it. I may eventually change my mind, depending on how angsty I want that story to end up.
I Think That I Shall Never See
In sleepy Ponyville there stood a tree, just down the lane from fabled Sugarcube Corner and around the bend from legendary Carousel Boutique. Of uncommonly massive girth, this singular specimen was hollowed out years ago and turned into a local landmark called Golden Oak Library. Oddly larger on the inside than its exterior would suggest, it was kept fresh and alive by magics rare and arcane.
Row upon row of bookshelves and banks of card catalogs and inconspicuous reading nooks left no illusion as to its purpose, yet a kitchen abutted the entrance, and a laboratory peeked out from down winding stairs, and a cozy bedroom overlooked the towers of knowledge. Together these betrayed that somepony once called this place home, and more. Once, ponies happy and hopeful and ailing and immortal came to the little Library, knowledge and friendship fresh on their minds.
In the panes of a side window, too high for easy reach and too low for illumination, a single blue feather still fluttered, caught in the sash. The window itself bore the hallmarks of repeated and increasingly perfunctory repairs: careful sanding gave way to rough trim, fine glass was replaced by simple glaze, and precise nail work was abandoned for hasty glue. Once the sound of the crashing glass had been a welcome change of pace from the usual polite knock at the door. It signaled the arrival of a rare sky-blue visitor, one whose love of literature was late in blooming and of unrefined taste.
Yet a love it was, nurtured covertly and fed by the sort of secrets only librarians know and keep. Knowledge fueled and intellect sated, the clandestine reader found new courage and pursued dreams that had her crashing in far loftier places. Soon she began leaving her feathers in stadiums and arenas and Academies an hour’s flight away, a day’s, a month’s. The one feather remained, caught where it lay in the window sash, but eventually the window stopped needing repair and only letters arrived, storm-scented but never delivered in person.
The Library’s kitchen had long been disused and only an empty pie tin on the dining table hinted that it had ever been more than an afterthought. The pie tin itself was unremarkable save for the lace doily on which it lay, entirely out of place against the bare functionality of the Library. In the Library’s heyday a certain farmer dropped by for visits of the most casual sort only, convinced that without her fruits the resident librarian might have tried subsisting on parchment and data alone. So she brought pies and fritters, jellies and cobblers, the aromas of cinnamon and fresh baking lending the stuffy building the warm and wafting scent of home.
A certain seamstress and designer of fashions sought across the land also called on the Library and its librarian. The fastidious pony left perfume and lacy perfection in her wake, and insisted the librarian accept her offer of fancy garments for use in Galas and Balls and the sort of events to which most librarians only dreamt of attending. It was in these soirees that cinnamon and perfume discovered after first clashing that they were instead complementary, each just strong enough when the other grew too faint. Soon the farmer and the fashionista spent their time at the Acres and the Boutique, and other ponies came to visit them more than the reverse. After a time all the dresses were made and fresh pies could be had elsewhere, and nopony came by to deliver gowns or strudels to the Library.
The only clue that a certain pegasus ever visited the Library was a stain in the floorboards, a relic of herbal tea spilled in fright at some imagined bogey or over-loud guest. The timid little pony smelled of wildflowers and medicine, honeysuckle and bandages, and was as likely to faint at her own shadow as to risk her life to save any of the myriad forest creatures which called her friend and savior and surrogate mother. She came by the Library only rarely in its prime, always seeking quiet words with quiet friends. After adventures and quests began to mount and took their toll, she retreated to her woodland home, a place where she was sought by many in search of kindness. She left with increasing infrequency, save to see her closest friends when grave matters forced her hoof, and though she never lacked for companionship, the Library faded from her list of familiar routes.
A parti-colored and icing-scented streamer hung from the rafters in the Library, a relic of the librarian’s early days, and it resisted all efforts mundane and magical to remove it. The same was often said of the pony who delivered the streamer, or cannon-fired it, as it were. Even to the dour librarian she brought a smile, a feat she replicated with everypony she met. One day she found herself surrounded by happy ponies, her close friends included, each one a testament to her uncanny ability to lift all burdens with laughter. When nopony needed cheering and there were no depressions, no unease, no unhappy hearts left to mend, she retreated to her life as a baker extraordinaire, her fame with confections and sweets preceding her where ever she set hoof, and she left the Library behind as a fond and increasingly distant memory.
The last pony to leave the Library was its resident librarian. Her bedroom lay empty save for the scent of spilled ink, ancient tomes, and fresh quills. Somewhere beneath the whiff of musty parchment lay a subtler aroma, which to the initiated spoke of sweat and lust, of lilac and lavender overlaid with moondust and moonflowers. It was this last which spurred her to depart with a fellow seeker of knowledge, one with unrivaled perspective on the nighttime heavens, both of them intent on exploring questions far deeper and more personal than any Library’s collection could answer.
Finally on some long sunsetted day which nopony in Ponyville could remember, the callers came no more, the torches and lanterns all went dark, the shelves were emptied, and at last only the wind visited the lonely branches of the great Golden Oak.
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 234. The Prompt: Phantom faces at the windows. Phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables …
This story is something of an epilogue to three of my other collections:If the Flight Suit Fits Luna's Librarian, Twilight's Moon The Rustic and The Romantic
Title is from the Joyce Kilmer poem .
On the windswept western flats between Appleloosa and the Great Buffalo Plains sat four stallions, their faces illuminated by flickering firelight under a cloudy and moonless sky. Midnight breeze rustled leaves and sand but failed to hide an eerie wail coming from somewhere deep, distant, and cold.
A massive chestnut pony drew a ten-gallon hat low across his shifting eyes. “Hear that, fellas? That there’s the Headless Horse. I’d know that howl anywhere. Racket and ruckus like that don’t come from nowhere else. They say the Horse don’t ever mean ta kill, that it just delights in ruinin’ all it touches. Any it comes near - they’s finished.” Drawing a weatherworn vest closer around his barrel chest, he sheered and continued, “It’s like it’d rather strip a stallion o’ every bit he’s got just to see ‘im broke, then drain off his sanity just to see ‘im squirm.”
Holding his wrinkled and calloused hooves a hair’s breadth from the licking flames, a wizened and graying stallion rocked back and forth. “Seen the Headless Horse take out a whole squad o’ Royal Guards, I have. This was back in my younger days, mind ya, when the Guard was a touch bunch o’ cusses, big as Bison, not them namby-pamby whitewashed colts they got nowadays.” He stretched his stooped back and grunted before settling back to his place at the roaring fire. “Bunch o’ ornery Guards on weekend leave, thought they could take on the Headless Horse an’ make a name for themselves. They got famous, alright - morning shift found ‘em scattered across the forest, witless an’ stumblin’, not a one of ‘em fit to talk nor walk. They all made it back, I hear, but they weren’t never in a shape to guard nothin’ after that.”
A thin, wiry stallion sat back from the warming fire, shadows dancing deep and dark over his angular muzzle. “Families. Headless eats families.” His voice was hollow and monotone and he seemed never to blink as he droned into the coals. “Stallion goes to Headless, don’t come home again. His mare goes looking, don’t come home again. Mare and Stallion find Headless Horse together, mare and stallion never found again. If one encounters Headless and lives, family is doomed. Violence follows survivor home.”
“Foals,” said the smallest of the four, “it’s what it does to foals that’s the worst.” The little palomino clutched tightly to his empty mug, his eyes wide and unblinking. “Leaves ‘em fatherless. Motherless. Rips away brothers and sisters. The little foals got no defense, ‘cause that… that thing takes some kinda sick pleasure in tearin’ whole families apart.”
He shut his eyes tightly, and dropping his cup to the dusty earth, lay his head in his rough and shaking hooves. “I should know. Bastard killed my own father - left him in a pool of his own blood an’ bile. Momma tried to resist, but once Headless got ahold… well, she weren’t never the same. Just sat in the corner mumblin’, her tongue lollin’ out like she was some kinda walkin’ corpse. I ran as far from it as I could. I swear, sometimes I can hear the noises it makes, even out here on the plains, like the wind just can’t help but carry all the cryin’ and dyin’ straight back to me.”
Jumping to his hooves, the towering chestnut stallion tipped his hat back and spit into the blaze. “I cain’t stand it no more! I gotta know for myself, and I gotta know tonight. Pops, where can I find this here Headless Horse?”
Eyes reduced to pinpricks, the palomino shook wildly and put a hoof on his friend’s withers. “But… But you can’t go! Ain’t you been listenin’? Headless Horse’ll do you in! Ain’t no pony can handle it, big or small, and just cause you’re strong don’t mean…”
“Let ‘im go, sonny.” All eyes turned toward the elderly stallion, still keeping his hooves to the flames. “If’n he aims to waste all he’s got, that’s his business. Sometimes the only way a pony can learn what he’s got to lose is by losin’ it all.”
The hulking stallion shook off the palomino’s hoof, thumped his barn-broad chest, and smiled. “I ain’t some foal and I ain’t some snot-nose Royal Guard. Ain’t got a mare waitin’ on me an’ wailin’ when I don’t come home. And kid, I ain’t your dead daddy. So pops, give it up - where’s the Headless Horse?”
Looking up through squinting and tired eyes, the old pony coughed and pointed a hoof toward the east. “Follow the trail back toward Appleloosa. ‘Bout a mile outside o’ town, you’ll see it. Rickety old building with a statue of a pony outside, missin’ its head, o’ course. That’s how you’ll know it, son - the Headless Horse Saloon. But I’m warnin’ ya, boy - Headless Horse Saloon ain’t got no mercy and it ain’t got no law save wreckin’ ya. You step through them doors, fella, and you’re takin’ your soul in your own hooves.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 201. The Prompt: The legend of the Headless Horse!
My first try at writing anything resembling a Western. It felt like it worked, at least a bit, so maybe I'll return to Appleoosa and the Great Buffalo Plains later. In The Rustic and The Romantic I sent Big Mac to help Braeburn in Appleoosa, so there's a story hook if I ever need one.
Try Honesty as a Last Resort
Dear Princess Celestia,
This here’s Applejack. The girls picked me to write this letter. I tried tellin’ ‘em I ain’t no poet, but they insisted that what needs to be said had more to do with Honesty than Laughter, Kindness, or Loyalty. Pinkie Pie ain’t herself since we saw what’s goin’ on. Every time it comes up, all she can say is “There’s nothing funny about this, and there won’t be, and there can’t be.” This might be the one thing I ever saw that she couldn’t or wouldn’t crack a joke about. Fluttershy told me she ain’t got a single kind word to say about all this. That filly stood hoof to hoof with Discord and smiled like he weren’t nothin’ more’n a wayward bunny rabbit, and she can’t find anything kind here. And Rainbow Dash just sits there broodin’. She don’t practice her tricks, she don’t go off ‘bout the Wonderbolts - nothin’ at all. She can’t outfly this and she can’t take it on with her bare hooves, and it’s killin’ the mare. So it’s down to me. This ain’t easy for me to write, Princess, and it ain’t gonna be easy for you to hear.
Y’all are usin’ Rarity. It ain’t right, it ain’t honest, and it ain’t fair to her, and to Luna and Twilight, and darn sure not to you. Rarity’s a fine mare, Princess. She’s gorgeous mane to tail, and she’d give her last bit to help a total stranger even if nopony ever knew it was her doin’ the givin’. But she ain’t Twilight Sparkle. She ain’t your student or your pupil or your surrogate daughter.
We all see how you look at Twilight - that’s more’n teacher to student, sugarcube. We saw it at the Gala, and after we came back from the Crystal Empire, and every time you dropped by Ponyville. Now, I ain’t the most perceptive o’ ponies - Dash keeps sayin’ I can’t even see past my hat - but even I picked up on this. Twilight don’t know it but we saw some o’ the letters you sent her - she was showin’ us a stack of ‘em one night but I think Spike mighta mis-filed a few - and I don’t mean the ones about friendship and harmony and studyin’ magic.
It’s damn shameful, Princess. I know what I’m riskin’, puttin’ all this in my own hoof-writin’, but it’s gotta be said. Twi and Princess Luna are happy together. Not just friends, mind you, they’re in love with a capital “L”. Luna’s smitten with Twilight like a schoolfilly who just heard the captain of the hoofball team wants to ask her to the prom. And Twi fell completely head-over-hooves for Luna. I mean, Luna’s all she talks about, in a rainbows-and-butterflies sort of way.
Back in the day, Princess, Luna wanted what you had. Twilight says you never confronted her, never told her to speak her mind, you just let her stew and fester and the hurt got worse and worse. Everypony knows what happened afterwards. It’s like a case o’ Root Rot - once it takes, ignorin’ it ain’t gonna make it go away, and pretty soon the whole orchard’s gone to Tartarus. So I hope you can understand what we’re tryin’ to do and say here, Princess. We gotta get this out in the open, maybe shine a light on what and why this is goin’ on.
You and we all know that Rarity’s got a heckuva weakness for Royalty, Canterlot, high society, and the whole highfalutin’ life. You’re all o’ that, Princess, and more. There ain’t no way Rarity would turn you down. But like I said, she ain’t Twilight. No matter how close you two get, or already got, we still see you glance over at Twi. I seen that longin’ look before, in friends, and other ponies, and yep, even in my mirror. Princess, that look in your eyes - well, it ain’t gonna come to no good.
If we can see this, Princess Celestia, the other ponies can too. Twilight might be more oblivious that me, if that’s possible, but she’s a smart filly - when she sees what’s happenin’, we’ll all be lucky if Canterlot’s left standin’. It’s gonna come out, and when it does, Discord’ll be laughin’ at the lot of us from inside his little statue, ‘cause there ain’t no way even his stinkin’ twisted brain could out-do the storm we’ll all have to weather. Think about the Elements, if it helps, ‘cause they ain’t gonna do much good if the six of us are left lyin’ in pieces. Talk to any of us, or to all of us, or somepony, anypony, if it’ll do some good. Just please, Princess, whatever you do, for the love o’ all that’s good and right and holy, don’t do this. Be happy for Twi, and be happy for your sister, but please don’t make Rarity your stand-in for Twilight.
Yours,
Applejack Apple
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 193 . The Prompt: “Dear Princess Celestia…”
The line "all she talks about, in a rainbows-and-butterflies sort of way" is from Mass Effect (if a male Shepherd is romancing Tali and talks to Kasumi Goto) .
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Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 191 . The prompt: Dear Elements of Harmony…
Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking
Atop the gleaming onyx Throne of the Moon, Princess Luna sat aloof, imperious, and regal. The few ponies awake for Night Court had long since had their petitions heard, leaving an only slightly more detestable duty to be completed. With a volume bordering on Royal Canterlot, Luna bellowed, “Bailiff, bring forth the prisoners due for sentencing!” A grey-armored stallion entered moments later leading three ponies bound in chains. “Criminals! The fair and impartial Equestrian Courts have adjudged thee guilty! By proclamation of Princess Celestia, thy sentences shall be determined by myself, Luna, Empress of the Moon and Stars, as the day courts find themselves sorely pressed for time and personnel. Bailiff, with what are these miscreants charged?”
Clearing his throat, the stallion glanced at a lengthy scroll and pointed a hoof toward the first of three bound and gagged ponies. “Prisoner Four Three Three, you have been found guilty of – “
“Bailiff,” Luna thundered, “thy words are harsh and unbefitting of an officer of the Court! Restate thy claims properly.”
Rubbing his helmeted temple with a tired hoof, the armored officer shook his head before continuing. “Prisoner Four Three Three, er, thou hast been foundest, um, guiltyeth of the chargeth of Arson in the burning of the - uh, of yon store known as ‘Flags ‘n’ More’.”
The indigo alicorn’s shouts echoed through the columned halls. “Foul malefactors! Setting alight the wares of a merchant employed in the arts of Royal Heraldry is a deed most reprehensible! By precedent set in the case of Grim Darkon in the Year of Our Ladies 331 BLE, thou art sentenced to be drawn and quartered by the four strongest of the elite Night Guard stallions. Thy quarters shall then be drawn and quartered by the four most able colts sired by those stallions upon the mares of the Royal Harem. The resulting quarters shall then be burned in the Courtyard for public spectacle, and thy ashes shall be fed to the Great Hydra of the Festering Swamp. So it is decreed, so shall it be!
A sudden silence overtook the Night Court, broken only by the unceremonious dropping of a half-dozen jaws. Her declaration having had the desired effect, Luna smiled with obvious satisfaction. “Bailiff, with what is the next offender charged?”
The wide-eyed bailiff shook his head and read meekly from his drooping scroll as he motioned to a second chained pony. “P… P… Prisoner Five Zero One has, ah, hast been found m… most guiltiest of the charge of murder, having admitted his guilt in killing a homeless street peddler.”
Luna put an armored hoof to her chin and narrowed her eyes. “If the peddler’s owner has not come forth to lodge a claim for destruction of his property or disruption of his mercantile business, then the peddler must have been a most poor example. Still, ‘tis a most reprobate offense. Wrongdoer, thou art sentenced to a fortnight’s service to the community, to be determined by the local shire-reeve. Thou art also commanded to repay the peddler’s owner the full value of a month’s begging wages. Bailiff, bring forth the final sinner.”
Trembling so violently that his whispers were barely audible over the clanking of his shaking armor plates, the Bailiff stuttered, “Prisoner One One Three Eight is the one who.. who crossed the path of thy Royal Carriage this evening, P… Princess. She admits to, uh, jaywalking.”
A blast of Royal Canterlot threw all ponies present back. “Repugnant outlaw! Thy perfidy knows no bounds! Wait here, unworthy scum! I shall consult my fair Sister for her Moon Banishment spell and return forthwith.”
Stepping down from her throne with nostrils flaring and hooves stomping mightily, Luna was met at the massive Court doors by the glowing alabaster figure of Celestia, Sun Princess and Diarch of Equestria.
“Tia! We thank thee for expanding our duties to include pronouncing sentence upon the worst of Equestria’s foes.” She aimed an accusing hoof at the quivering chained mare and roared, “Behold the worthless monstrosity present! Her crime is beyond all forgiveness, Tia. For her punishment I require the most dreadful of - ”
Celestia’s singsong voice maintained a melodious tone which contrasted eerily with the visible twitch in her eye. “Yes, little sister, I heard, as did everypony from here to Trottingham. Forgive me, Luna, I believe I may have been a wee bit hasty in assigning you this duty. Laws have changed a smidgen in the thousand years of your exile.”
“We no longer draw and quarter ponies for destruction of Royal Heraldry?”
“I’m afraid not, Lu.”
“Are peddlers no longer relegated to the Untouchable Caste? And does murder of one now merit the same standards of punishment as that of other ponies?”
“Correct and correct again, little sister. You learn quickly! I believe we’ll have to find you a tutor, somepony well versed in recent Equestrian history who would be happy to fill you in. I know just such a mare, a librarian in little Ponyville, in fact.”
“As you wish, Tia. So do we now pardon jaywalkers as well?
“Jaywalking? No, they go straight to the Moon. Come with me, I’ll teach you the spell.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 179. The Prompt: Back to school. Special Rule: Twilight is not going to magic kindergarten.
Title, of course, is straight out of TVTropes , as are the three crimes listed.
Punishment for the pony who burned the flag store is a reference to an ancient Saturday Night Live skit :
Anne Boleyn: What if I were to agree to the divorce, but invoke the blessing of the pope?
Norfolk: In that case, you shall be drawn and quartered by four strong horses. Then their quarters shall be drawn and quartered by four smaller horses. Then those quarters shall be drawn and quartered by four frogs. Then the quartering would stop, and the mincing would begin.
Prisoner One One Three Eight refers to this movie , and to the cell block mentioned in this movie too.
Untouchable Caste is a callout to India's caste system , though I hope Luna was just being overdramatic.
The Blossoming of Annuals
“Okay, um, I know I said I’d do this every year, Pinkie - telling you a story or a secret I’d never told you or anypony else - and it was kind of a promise. A Pinkie Promise, so… um, here goes.
“I never told you when I fell in love with you. You told me once, ‘Fluttershy, I’d never lie to you, silly!’ Actually you called me Flutter-Butters, remember? I don’t think I ever really noticed, but I’m pretty sure you never used the same nickname for me twice. That was very nice of you, Pinkie. You’ve always been so creative and sweet, and mostly in little tiny ways like that – ways that nopony ever noticed. But I noticed.
“Oh, where was I? I was rambling. I’m sorry for rambling! Unless you like rambling, then I – oh, okay. Sorry! You went on for hours about how you’d never lie to me, even if it would make me happier to hear the truth. And it would have, but it would have made me so very very sad to learn the truth later, and you knew that, and that was one of the ways you always took care of me. That wasn’t when I fell in love with you, though.
“It wasn’t when you said you’d catch me if I fell, either. I fell a lot. I still do. All my friends try to catch me, even if I’m not really falling. They think I am, so they try, and I appreciate it so very much. Pinkie, you were the only one who really knew when I needed catching. Sometimes you’d reach out and grab me because that’s how I needed catching. Sometimes you’d do it with a kiss, or with a hug, or a smile, or a party, because I needed lots of different kinds of catching. And you never threw me loud parties, either. I liked that.
“When I told you I was yours if you’d have me, you told me I wasn’t like a spatula. That was, um, kind of strange, I admit. Then you said it was because I wasn’t a thing that you could have or keep or own. I was a pony, you told me, and you said you’d much rather have a pony that walked beside you and held your hoof and woke up snuggled in your mane than a spatula. You even giggled when I got you a new spatula for a Hearth’s Warming present, and you winked at me because we both knew what it meant, and I felt oh so warm and fuzzy inside! But that wasn’t when I fell in love with you.
“Then when I told you I’d give anything to spend my life with you, you said you already had everything you needed and you started to walk away. I never felt so hollow and empty and alone as I did right then. And you turned around and licked my nose and told me I was all you ever wanted and all you ever needed and you called my your ‘fuzzy feathery squirrel-girl’ and my whole world came back together. Miss Squirrel was jealous for a little while but she felt much better after that acorn cupcake you brought her. That wasn’t it, either, though.
“I apologize for taking so long to tell you all this, I mean, we have plenty of time, but not really so much time, and I never think… Sorry again. You know, the longer it’s been, the more I’ve started to sound like you? I even caught myself hopping last week! I don’t bounce much. Maybe I don’t bounce as much as I should. I don’t know.
“I do know when I fell in love with you. Once when were fighting one of the really loud and really scary things Princess Celestia sends us to fight, I tried to talk to it and tell it not to be such a bully and it wouldn’t listen, and I tried to stare at it and it just laughed at me. It came for me and it was all teeth and claws and I was so terribly scared, and you danced. You danced right in front of it, and you made silly faces and sang a little song. I forgot what the song was. Please forgive me, I just… I don’t remember, I’m sorry. The monster stood there, watching, and so did I, and that gave our friends time to bring help.
“Afterwards I threw my hooves around you and told you that you shouldn’t be so brave for me. That you should never die just for me because I’m not worth it. I’m just – I’m just Fluttershy. And you told me I was right – that you’d never die for me. You said you’d rather live for me, and live with me, forever and ever. You told me dying was quitting and dying was giving up and you’d never give up on me and you’d never give up on us.
“Oh, that was the moment, Pinkie! That was when I fell in love with you. I thought I knew what I felt, until then. When you told me that, everything changed. All the scary moments fell away and nothing was loud anymore. I knew the world would be an okay place forever and ever because I knew I loved you, and I knew you loved me too.
“So… there it is. I never told you that, and I’m sorry. I wish I’d shared that sooner. I wish I’d told you so many of these stories sooner. I – I’m sorry, Pinkie, I – “
“That there’s plenty, sugarcube. You done enough for this year. Now come on, Shy, let’s go on home.”
“But Applejack, I can’t go, I never told her how amazing her cooking really was, or how that one time she helped my otters and she thought I didn’t know but they told me and I never thanked her, and… and there’s so much, I can’t…”
“Hush, sugar, hush. Y’all already buried Pinkie once, y’all don’t need to go buryin’ her again. So save them stories, Shy. Save ‘em for next year, and the next, and the next. Y’all got one last Pinkie Promise to keep, remember? Now let’s head out, okay, hon? Twi an’ RD an’ Rares are waitin’ for us.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 257. The Prompt: It only takes a moment to fall in love.
Written in part for Donny's Boy and Professor Piggy . I got bonus points for this one.
"squirrel-girl" is of course the best superhero ever .
Sundown on a Winding Road
Granny Pie,
Sure feels funny bein’ called Granny, don’t it, Granny? Same here, sugar. Now things’ve come full circle, and we gotta make sure the young’uns don’t get their lives all muckity-mucked up like we did. These here pills don’t do much for my arthritis, meanin’ I ain’t got all year, hon, so I’ll get right to it.
Some things run in the family, right? Our men run off and got they selves killed, deader’n a swamp tree after a lightnin’ strike. Old Bismarck Baldwin Apple was a looker for dang certain, tough as nails and built like a granite outhouse. Dumber’n one too, but I weren’t picky in them days. There weren’t nothin’ here but woods and rocks far as the eye could see. I needed a strong, tall stallion to get the farm started, and sweet Celestia did I find a good’un! Hard worker but no time for me nor for our kids. You didn’t do so bad yourself there, filly. That Marsh Tacky stallion o’ yours mighta been a mean cuss, but he made durn sure y’all didn’t want for nothin’. We told ‘em they shoulda waited for the constable to call up a posse afore dealin’ with that manticore, but them hardhead colts didn’t listen none. Left us to fend for ourselves, but Celestia provided, and here we are.
Our kids didn’t do so bad. Not so good neither. My colt, my only colt, my little prize Jonathan Crispin – what a waste! That foal never had half the common sense Luna gave a goat. How he landed that little filly that gave me Applejack and Macintosh and Applebloom, I’ll never know. She weren’t no fool and she weren’t hard on the eyes, which left me hopin’ she’d buck some sense into Crispin. Nope, it weren’t meant to be. She was a city filly at heart, and when he took off for the hills to follow some fool harebrain scheme, she left for Manehattan without nary a look back. AB was just a foal, and my other two weren’t much older. They had to grow up too fast, just like your little ones. Your girl married some rock-farmin’ preacher-type, which I know weren’t what you wanted. But them’s the breaks, and like you used to tell me, when life gives you rocks, you make – well, smaller rocks. But you get the picture. At least your kids are still around, even if they did pack you off to some old ponies’ home.
If nothin’ else turned out right, our grandkids are sure swell. And that there's what I meant to write you about. I was ramblin’ for a while there, so my pills must be wearin’ off. I gotta focus and get this here wrapped up. My little AJ and your Pinkie – they’s good ponies, both of ‘em. Hearts o’ gold and hard workers, both as friendly as could be. Pinkie done asked me if she could court my AJ, and I got a mind to tell her to go for it. AJ’s a big mare now, but I appreciate your grandfilly’s askin’ me proper-like. She’s got your eyes, hon – blue as the sky and deep as lakes. You and me – well, you remember that little glen in the forest off the lane between the East Orchard and the South Rock Field? I ain’t forgot it and I never will. Don’t rightly know if I ever told you, but you were the first pony I ever called ‘sugarcube’. It didn’t work out ‘tween us, I know – back in them days, we needed foals to work the farms, and that takes stallions. Like I said, we gotta make sure our grands don’t miss out like we did. They got a chance to make up for a lotta lost years and a whole lotta missed chances between our families. Let’s give ‘em what they’s earned and give ‘em our blessin’.
Still thinkin’ o’ you, sugarcube.
Yours always,
‘Granny’ Smith Apple
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 189. The Prompt: Dear Granny Pie…
Wednesday the 3rd
Dear Diary,
Luna is so very good to me! For our anniversary she took me on a week-long safari to Zebrica. It was business and pleasure, I know, but it was still nice of her to bring me along, Oh, the critters and sights we saw! Tea under the acacia trees with the Camel chieftains, petting the cute fuzzy little badgers, meeting the family of crested caracaras – it was amazing.
She brought back a few gifts, too – a mask for Celestia, a mated pair of zebra finches for me, and a book on the history of Zebrican magic. She didn’t say who the book was for. After we came back to Canterlot today she kissed me and called me her “little Fluttermoon” – I love it when she does that, she says the kindest things. Then she dropped me off and left again. Said she had to deliver the book, and that she might be a day or so. I think she went to Ponyville.
All my love, Fluttermoon (yay!)
Tuesday the 9th
Dear Diary,
Luna finally came back this morning. She must have raised the moon, where ever she was, because it was especially beautiful the last few nights. I’m used to spending the night alone, it’s okay. I always did in my cottage, so it’s just fine. I go visit Angel Bunny a lot at his hutch in the garden. Luna enchanted it so it’s heated in the winter and cooled in the summer, and it’s rainproof and windproof. That was so very nice of her! I think Angel likes it.
At least, I guess he does, because he still won’t talk to me. The last time he did, he said I was a pushover and he left in a huff. I realize I’m a pushover, and I tried to explain to him that we have to make sacrifices sometimes. There are times we just have to accept that what we have is as good as we deserve and get on with our lives. He threw a carrot at me and hasn’t spoken since. Luna hasn’t spoken much either. I told her I’d like to go back and visit the girls sometime, especially Twilight. She says the Royal aviary and petting zoo need me, and maybe we’ll go next month. Oh, well. Anything for my Luna!
With love, Fluttershy
Friday the 12th
Dearest Diary,
Twilight came to visit! I only got to see her for a minute but it was very nice. She’s doing well. Owlowiscious is too, and Spike. She’s coming to visit with Luna to study, um, what was it? Oh yes, the effects of moon phases on magic! Luna’s the expert, after all. The best telescope in Canterlot is Luna’s, and she has texts on moon magic that no pony or library has access to – Twilight said so herself - so they’ll be studying here in Luna’s suite. Our suite. Luna apologized, she’s so very sweet like that.
I think I’ll give them room to study. I haven’t slept outside in years, not since I had to stay up all night when those three baby raccoons were all teething at the same time. The weather’s lovely for it, and the stars are really sparkling tonight.
Sincerely, Flutters
Saturday the 20th
Diary,
Twilight just left for Ponyville. I thought she’d stop to say goodbye, and I saw her boarding the train, but when I tried to wave she just ran really fast to the back of the passenger car. She was probably just very busy, she always has been. I’ve barely seen Luna this week. Finally I saw her at breakfast and she looked so happy! I do love her, especially when she’s like this. I’ll bet she’s very tired, and she has a lot of work to catch up on – she cancels Night Court a lot lately. I want to spend more time with her, but if she can’t, that’s okay. I understand. She gave me a good morning kiss before heading to bed.
What’s the word for when you get your senses mixed up and you start hearing colors and feeling smells? Synthetica? Synthemesh? Sin is Easier? I bet Twilight would know. I’ll have to ask her, because Luna’s kiss tasted the way lavender smells. I tried to snuggle up to Luna while she slept, because it’s always so warm under her wing. I wasn’t sleepy, I just enjoy the feeling, and I’ve been spending the night in other rooms while they had all the books scattered around. There were purple and pink hairs on my pillow. Luna’s mane is starry sometimes, and sometimes sort of indigo, but not really purplish like this. My pink mane-hairs are much longer than this too. That’s okay, it’s always okay. Everything’s nice. It has to be.
Shy
Monday the 29th
Oh, how I want to talk to Twilight, but I can’t. I might say something, well, not nice, and then we might not be friends anymore, and then the Elements might not work right, and what if Princess Celestia needs them? Needs us? Breaking the Elements and putting Equestria in danger wouldn’t be very kind, would it?
I can’t talk to Luna either. If I confront her, she might leave me, or I might stop being a pushover and leave her – oh, Iron Will, you bad, bad, minotaur, why did you have to show me what I could do? But we can’t do that. After the big wedding – Moon Princess and Element of Kindness – the whole kingdom started to love her, to really appreciate her. It made her seem more real, more, um, normal, instead of being a cold, distant Pony-who-used-to-be-Nightmare-Moon. If we split up, ponies might think Luna acted impulsively and rashly in marrying me, and they might not be so nice to her anymore. I remember what facing Nightmare Moon was like. I still have – well, nightmares about confronting her. I can’t take the chance that Nightmare could come back just because ponies stopped loving Luna again, because I couldn’t put my feelings aside to let her do… well, to do whatever makes her happy. I have to let her do anything that makes her happy, if that’s the kindest way to handle all of this.
So I can’t talk to my friends and I can’t talk to my wife and I can’t leave because none of that would be showing kindness. Is this what kindness feels like? I don’t think I like it very much anymore.
Yours, Kindness
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 165 . The Prompt: Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!
The word for getting your "senses mixed up and you start hearing colors and feeling smells" is synesthesia .
This story was never part of the Luna's Librarian universe, of course. Consider it an AU "what it?" story.
Despite the brilliant marble-white moon floating lazily overhead, no light reached the floor of the Everfree Forest. What shadows there were danced and flickered from the pale magenta glow of unicorn magic.
“Sorry I couldn’t teleport the three of us all the way back,” Twilight offered, her horn alit and her head held high. “I’ve been practicing long-distance teleportation but it’s still more draining than I’d like, and bringing us out here gave me a splitting headache. I think if I can recalibrate the…”
Applejack waved a hoof at her, losing a few haystalks from her overstuffed shirt in the process. “Aw shucks, Twi, it aint’ like we cain’t walk a little ways. You magicked us out to Zecora’s, the least we can do is hoof it back.” She glanced around, her eyes a little wider than usual. “Would it get a little brighter if’n you took off yer Swirly-Star the Beardy hat?”
The unicorn mare grunted a little as she led the trio down an increasingly choked and indistinct path. “It’s Starswirl the Bearded! Does nopony recognize the robe? And sorry, AJ, this is about all the magic I have left until I get a little rest.” She paused to pant a little before glancing back at the earth pony who’d sidled somewhat closer to her in the darkness. “Fluttershy’s always a tree, of course. But any reason you’re a scarecrow again this year?”
“This here’s a practical costume, I’ll have ya know! Soon as I get done with this here getup, it’ll go straight back into my North Orchard. Ain’t never seen no need to get all fancied-up with a costume like Rarity's. What was she again, the Bride o’ Flankenstein?” A visible shiver passed through the mare and quickly stifled her attempt at a shaky laugh. “Uh, Twilight, does this here path look a little less like a path and more like a bramble thicket to you?”
The glow from Twilight’s horn wavered a little as she slowed her gait. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think we’re on the path at all. But don’t get anxious, you two, I’m sure if we stick together we’ll find our way back in no time.”
“Not that I’m nervous or anythin’, I’d just prefer we skedaddle back Ponyville ‘fore it gets too late,” mumbled the orange pony. “Wouldn’t want to miss Nightmare Night,” she chuckled unconvincingly, “and you gotta get that Zebra medicine back to yer rabbit afore he gets too sick to go out trick or treatin’, right, Shy?”
“Fluttershy?”
The two ponies’ cries barely echoed through the dank and crowding forest, blackened trunks and creeping vines deadening their calls of “Shy! Fluttershy! Where are ya, hon? Ain’t no time for jokes, Sugarcube!”
“Applejack, look!” cried Twilight, pointing a shaking hoof toward a dim golden glow peeking through the tangled undergrowth, from the direction of which they heard a faint “Eep!” . Ignoring thorns and branches tearing at them like the claws of ravenous wolves, they raced through the thicket until they ran headlong into a shivering tree, whose pink mane flowed lazily out of several knotholes.
“Fluttershy! We thought we’d lost you! Are you okay? We - “
The unicorn’s words were cut off as she followed the yellow pegasus’ quavering leaf-covered hoof. Across the clearing stood a magnificent oak tree, gnarled roots gripping the soil and great branches spreading into a canopy of yellowed leaves which glowed warmly in stark contrast to the unlit forest surrounding them. The three ponies sat transfixed, staring with open mouths and saucer-wide eyes as the great tree began to unfurl its limbs. Sounds of cracking branches and splitting logs shot through the copse as the massive creature stretched out a leafy bark-shod arm and scooped up the lavender mare in a motion as swift as the wind and as smooth as a spring breeze.
“Let me go! Put me down!” she wailed as the wooden arm drew her nearer to what could only be described as a shaggy, moss-covered face. Twilight’s horn lashed out with arcs of buzzing purple energy, each bolt exploding harmlessly off the tree-being’s trunk in showers of fading lilac sparks.
Drawing the struggling unicorn nearer, it spoke with a great bellowing voice, louder than Royal Canterlot but deep and rich like polished mahogany. “What manner of creature are you, who wanders this forest, as few others do?”
“Let ‘er go or yer gonna find out the hard way,” came the reply from below. Applejack charged the thing’s trunk-like legs, planting her forehooves and giving it an apple-buck that would have shattered any lesser tree. Instead her hooves stung painfully and she recoiled, wincing, as a second tree-hand reached down to hold her firmly in its wooden grip.
Again the great voice rang out, mellow yet insistent and booming. “You must both be ponies - now I see. I am afraid you will cause no fruit to drop from me. I am called Grand Oak by others who’ve seen; by some in this forest, I am known as Elder Tree. You have little business here, ponies, in this place you fear. Go far from me now, and return not near.”
From far below at the clearing’s edge came a feeble yet determined voice. “Put my friends down! Your rude behavior ends! We just want to go home, to see our friends.”
The Grand Oak strode across the clearing in a single stump-pulling step, kneeling to the sound of snapping twigs until its lichen-caked visage was even with the little Pegasus. “First one, then two, but now there are three. Tell me, little one, are you too a poet-tree?”
“Oh, um, well, maybe a little. Once a year. Usually I just hide . Um… can we go now, dear?”
Standing to its full height, glowing leaves illuminating the nighttime canopy, it took Fluttershy gently in the crook of its great bark-arm. “For you, little Sapling, I would comply. Please visit me again - hmm, was it, Fluttershy? I count you as a friend and will carry you home, for we are now too few. We are so rare these recent years, we talking trees, I and you.”
Author's Note
TMP Prompt # 153 . The Prompt: It came from the Everfree.
The Grand Oak could be seen as an Ent or Treant, but really it's straight out of Dragon Age .
