Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing
Twilight Sparkle trotted briskly away from the Canterlot train station and into its myriad of streets. Winter Wrap-Up had not come to the capitol city just yet, and the roofs and ramparts of the bustling mountaintop metropolis still sported caps of snow. As she made her way toward the castle to make her semi-annual in-person report, her mind went into the typical free-associating cognitive autopilot it usually went on when she wasn’t immediately engaged; her ears flicking to and fro, she listened to the sounds and conversations around her, each one sparking off a random thought.
Very few realized it, including Twilight herself, but this ability to mentally multitask was what made her so very good at what she did. It also accounted for the mild touch of insanity that her parents insisted was most assuredly not a genetic trait, though they had no idea where it might’ve come from. The mailcolt back then was a gelding, after all, and they hadn’t hired a gardener yet.
Speaking of gardening, Twilight realized that she hadn’t asked Spike to cover the azaleas before she’d left, meaning they might as well be frozen vegetables with the way the cold weather was coming in...
“By Celestia’s beard, it’s cold out!” proclaimed a stallion to his companion as they passed the precocious and preoccupied purple pony. Indeed it was cold out, realized Twilight. If it weren’t for this report she had to make to the Princess, she’d be at home right now, curled up with a good book and a mug of hot cocoa in front of the fire.
“By Celestia’s beard, you want to charge ten bits per bundle of firewood? That’s ridiculous!” Indeed it was ridiculous, went the through that rolled through Ms. Sparkle’s mind in time with the rolling of her eyes. The foresting industry hadn’t been doing so well of late, between the various problems facing the nation -- Discord’s assault and later rehabilitation, the Changeling attacks and the subsequent issues when pockets of them were found scattered willy-nilly across the countryside, and the rise of an “Everfree Liberation Front” led by a stern, masked, soft-voiced and butter-colored pegasus whom no one had yet managed to positively identify. While many of the creatures of the Everfree were rather dangerous, when that pegasus instructed her chittering minions to unleash their squirrelly wrath upon a team of lumberjacks, it went beyond the pale horse, in Twilight’s considered opinion. One poor mare had become completely dendrophobic and had moved to Saddle Arabia to live as a mad hermit and write about the coming of some creature of her fevered imaginings called Coniferthulu, for pony’s sakes!
“By Celestia’s beard, watch where you’re going!” shouted a mare to a cart driver as he nearly ran her down in his haste to make a delivery. Yes, Twilight thought, she should definitely watch where she was going. While she’d grown up in Canterlot, she had lived a sheltered life and didn’t want to run into the wrong neighborhood. She’d heard there were certain districts where the mares wore socks out in the open! Scandalous!
And so her journey went as she meandered through the streets of Canterlot to her destination. Giving a brief but friendly greeting to the guards on duty, Twilight Sparkle entered the castle, shaking herself from horn to hooves to warm herself after the frigid walk, and made her way to Celestia’s chambers to deliver her report, a certain phrase ricocheting around her brain.
Some time later, after her report was made, she found herself seated at Celestia’s private table with the Princess herself. Princess Luna was in attendance as well, it being close to sundown, and was idly munching on a cinnamon-raisin bagel as she flipped through a comic book with her magic.
“Twilight, that was a very, ah, detailed report on the importance of properly organizing the Canterlot Archives. While your new indexing system seems... unorthodox, on the surface, I’ll pass it along to the Archivist and see what they think,” murmured Celestia as she sipped at her tea. Luna, meanwhile, took a noisy sip from her bottle of cola through the straw stuck down its neck, earning a tolerant glance from her elder. “It’s getting late, so you are of course welcome to stay at the castle until the morning trains start running. Did you have any other questions?”
The violet pony mused for a moment, and nodded. “Actually, yes, Princess. Yes, I do.” She cupped her mug of tea in her forehooves, looking down at it as if gathering her nerve, then looked up.”On the way here, I heard several ponies say a phrase that I’ve heard for as long as I’ve lived in Canterlot, but never really thought about: ‘By Celestia’s beard!’” Tilting her head curiously, she inquired, “Just what does that even mean, anyway?”
Celestia’s reply was interrupted by a spray of diet cola from the Night Princess’ direction. “Prithee, forgive me, sister, Twilight Sparkle. I... My cola, it ventured in error down the incorrect passage within my breast.” Summoning a few napkins with her magic, she started patting her sister and her friend down, blushing a darker blue than usual... and Twilight wondered as the midnight mare hid her face behind her comic, was she... holding back a giggle?
Celestia sighed quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. “I suppose it is time for you to know the truth, Twilight Sparkle. Yes, there is some basis behind that phrase, although I had hoped the saying had gone out of favor in the last two millenia. You see, long ago, Luna and I had only recently ascended to the thrones of Equestria, but as everything was still quite the mess from Discord’s reign, we often had to handle situations ourselves.”
Luna was staring goggle-eyed at Celestia for no readily discernible reason, but a subtle glare from her older sister made the Night Princess keep her muzzle shut for the moment as Celestia continued, “You see, we were traveling through the region near Stalliongrad, and back then, gypsies were a common thing...”
.o.O.o.
“So you say this gypsy wizard has spoiled all the milk, rotted all the fruit, foalnapped half the foals in the village, and made the mayor go bald? Whatever for?” said Celestia the Warrior Princess as her armor clinked faintly with her movements, gleaming in the torchlight illuminating the tavern where they spoke with the bartender. Nearby, her sister Luna “Dark Shadow Moon Bane” stood silently by, watchfully observing her sister’s every word and action in order to better herself as a fellow warrior. The nickname was just a teenage thing, as far as immortal alicorns have a teenage phase.
“Oh, aye, he’s a right powerful an’ wicked one, he is, Yer Worshipfulnesses. Wicked an’ powerful, wot? I mean, ‘e turned me into a newt!” replied the village barkeep, a stout earth pony by the name of Winter Molasses.
At this, Luna cocked an eyebrow and asked in an even tone, “...A newt?” To this, Molasses ducked his head and mumbled, “...I got better.”
“Still, thou didst not answer mine sister’s inquiry, good Ser Molasses,” replied Dark Shadow Moon Bane in a stilted and archaic fashion - it was the latest thing with all the young nobles, and Luna thought it might help her fit in better at court. “Praytell, for what reason hath this Strongbeard pony committed these alleged heinous acts?”
“Oh, well. Y’know, Yer Nightfulness... gypsy stuff.”
“...Gypsy stuff?”
“Aye, well it’s wot gypsies do, innit? Oi, one thing I almos’ fergot - th’ source o’his power is ‘is beard - it canna be cut even by th’ strongest blade, but if ye kin win it from ‘im in a wager, ‘e’ll lose his evil powers, ‘e will.”
There was the faint ‘clank’ of a hoofboot meeting a helm as Luna bowed her head. “Sister, must we listen to this drivel? I tire of these mediocre adventures and wish to return to mine chambers to write poetry about how dark and awful the world is, but ne’er so dark as what lay within mine soul.”
Celestia turned toward her younger sibling and declared heroically, “No, Luna. We must set an example for the ponies now under our care. Though our rule is yet young, we must make it known throughout the realm that any threat or offense made to our little ponies is an offense made to Us personally, and shall not be tolerated! Come, sister, let us make this gypsy terror see sweet reason by word or by blade!” With that, she threw open the tavern door with the sheer power of her awesome righteousness and galloped off into the night toward the nearby gypsy camp.
Luna gaped open-mouthed at the display, then turned to glare at Winter Molasses. “Verily, I hate thee so much. Fie!” She hurried off into the night after her sister.
.o.O.o.
“Dark... Shadow... Moon Bane?” queried Twilight incredulously, openly staring at Luna. The Night Princess, for her part, was glaring daggers at her elder sibling who only returned the gaze with a calmly amused smile.
“‘Twas a phase, Twilight Sparkle. One that, if memory serves, mine sister, we promised ne’er t’would be spake of again?”
“Oh, settle down, Lulu. I’m just using a little bit of poetic license, and really you were quite the brat about it back then, you must admit.” Turning back to Twilight, the Solar Princess resumed her tale, “So, there we were, in the Red Forests of Stalliongrad...”
.o.O.o.
The Red Forests of Stalliongrad didn’t live up to their name by day. By night, it was rumored that they glowed red from all the magical radiation left over by the gypsies’ wanton and excessively hedonistic lifestyle of drunken orgies and devil worship. How making more wanton and hedonistic devil-worshipping gypsies resulted in magical radiation was anyone’s guess, but the village priest said it, so it must be true, right?
As Celestia and Luna -- pardon, Dark Shadow Moon Bane -- trotted into the treeline, the forest was neither red nor glowing, unless one counted the fires of the gypsy camp up ahead. DSMB trotted in front of her sister and stopped, holding up a hoof. “‘Tia, art thou certain this is a good idea? Many time hath I caroused with gypsies, and while boisterous, I hath found them to be a caring and decent folk. ‘Tis unseemly that we should judge them based on the tales of a village tavern keeper who smelled of bad onions and had no more light in his eye than could fill a thimble.”
“Luna, dear sister, those are Canterlot gypsies you’re always getting drunk with and reciting your awful poetry to. They’re harmless for the most part. These are Stalliongrad gypsies, though, and everyone knows that gypsies from the ‘Old Country’ are the worst sort!”
“That... Sister, that does not make even a feather’s weight of sense! If thou wert to be technical about it, all of Equestria is the ‘Old Country’ since it was all united at once. If thou wishest to be historically accurate, then the ‘Old Country’ would be Unicornia, Pegasopolis, or whatever the mud ponies called their town.”
“How charmingly inegalitarian of you, sister, but nevertheless, we must do this! Good milk, sweet fruit, and lovely little foals are at stake!” Celestia brushed past her sibling and trotted into the camp, striking an heroic pose, her appearance marred only by the sound of DSMB facehoofing again like the sore loser she always was.
“GYPSIES! We are Princess Celestia of Equestria! We seek the wizard among you known as Strongbeard! Let him bring his craven self forward so that we may challenge him to single combat!”
The group of gypsy ponies around the bonfire, ranging from foals to elders, stared in disbelief at this armored alabaster apparition before them. Finally, after a long silence, one of the eldest croaked, “...Are y’drunk?”
“No, I am not drunk, I do not drink, not since Uncle Polaris’ birthday seven hundred years ago,” Celestia groaned.
“An’ what’s with th’ whole ‘We’ thing? There’s only one o’you!”
Ignoring that comment, Celestia looked up and spotted a big, burly brown earth pony with a full black beard that would make any Viking cry manly tears. Pointing a hoof at him, she demanded, “YOU. Are you Strongbeard?”
Taking a manly swig of his manly drink, the earth pony nodded. “I am. I see you’ve heard of me from the village idiot. Or was that idiot villagers? Eh. No difference. What’s it to you, then?”
Celestia furrowed her brow in a fashion sure to convey her heroism and determination. “I’ve come to stop your reign of terror on this fair village, miscreant! I hereby challenge you to a wager: If you win, I leave in peace. If you lose, I take your beard and remove your wicked gypsy powers!”
Looking nonplussed, Strongbeard asked mildly, “My what now? You want my beard? Seriously?”
Nodding slowly, a grimly heroic smile on her face, Celestia countered, “That’s correct. What say you, knave?”
Strongbeard looked at his clan, who collectively shrugged. Turning back to Celestia, he smiled broadly, “Tell you what - I’ll offer you a win/win. If I you win, yes - you can take my beard. If you lose, however... you will be cursed to wear it for, say, a year. That should be enough time for the villagers to find me and do the whole torches-and-pitchforks thing, don’t y’think? Either way, I lose my wicked gypsy powers, but only on one condition: You have to wear it for the entire year - no grooming, no clipping, not even so much as a moustache-tweezing, or the deal’s off and I get my beard back and all of my dark magic with it. Sound fair, Princess?”
“Agreed. What shall it be then? Blades? Spells at forty paces?”
“Ah, but you see, gypsy magic isn’t as fast to take effect as unicorn magic. I’d be at a severe disadvantage. Same with blades - I do all my fighting with axes and my own four hooves.” Sticking out his left hind and right hind hooves in turn, “I call these Ivan the Hammer and Sascha, Breaker of Knees.” Looking the princesses up and down, he smirked, “I also have my hammer, but it’s not polite to talk to a lady about that unless she’s interested.”
Luna frowned, peering at Stronghoof from the shadows that covered her darkly, but not as darkly as the darkness within her dark soul. “I see no hammer, Ser Stronghoof. Prithee, where is thine hammer?”
“Well, you see, Princess, the hammer is my--”
“ENOUGH!” exclaimed Celestia. “Then if we cannot agree on weapons, let us test each other through main strength! Hoofwrestling!”
And so it went, the gypsies circling around, passing wagers and drinks back and forth as they watched the combatants. Strongbeard’s mighty thews tensed and flexed as he locked hooves with Celestia, her slender forelegs belying the mighty and heroic strength of the alicorn. For hours, their struggle never ceased, neither opponent wavering in the slightest, their eyes locked in a battle of wills as fierce as the struggle of hoof against hoof. Finally, as dawn began to break over the horizon, the Sun awaiting its Mistress’ order to arise fully, Celestia’s hoof slammed against the stump, and a winner was declared.
Luna had been busily passing drinks and wagers back and forth with the gypsies as the battle went on nearby, and staggered over to her sister, helm askew and one wing flailing about for something resembling balance. “Huzzah! The drunks have been doubled!” Peering at Celestia and Stronghoof through a rather thick set of ale-goggles, she slurred, “Priffee.. Privy... Pretty... Oh sod it, who won?”
“I was the victor, fair and square, and let it not be said that I am not a gypsy of my word...” He grinned at Celestia, sitting back on his haunches as his forehooves started making obscure gestures that clearly were the beginnings of gypsy magic. “By light of Sun, by light of Moon, so do I forfeit my boon. Let it be known, both far and near, Celestia shall wear my beard!” With a flash of light, the manly facial hair vanished from his muzzle and appeared on Celestia’s, its brown fading into the same pink as her mane.
Lowering her head in defeat, the bearded Princess murmured, “Come Luna. Though I may wear this beard for a year and a day, I do not consider it a badge of shame, for at least I have saved the ponies of this area from eldritch gypsy horrors.”
“Oh, you haven’t really,” purred Strongbeard with a smirk, “I can always grow another one.”
.o.O.o.
“And so it was that for a year, I sat upon that throne, wearing a beard as pink as my mane. For a time, it became sort of an admonishment around court: ‘By Celestia’s Beard, you should be ashamed of yourself! If the Princess can endure having a beard, you can endure higher taxes!’ and so on... but after a few months, it turned into a running joke, and it took me years of threatened banishments to stamp it out amongst the nobles.” The Solar Princess scowled faintly. “I suppose I should’ve counted on the common pony to remember such a thing, and it’s too late now.”
She was interrupted by a snort, a giggle, and a cackle from beside her as Luna lowered her Batmare comic and gave her elder sibling a very amused look. Celestia fought down a sense of dawning horror as the night sister turned to their guest and said casually, “That is not how I remember it at all, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Luna, don’t.”
“In fact, most of it was accurate up until the point at which we reached the gypsy camp. This is where mine sister’s tale takes a turn toward pure fantasy.”
“Luna, please!”
“Oh, aye, some of what she said remained true. There was hoofwrestling involved, but that wasn’t the outcome ‘pon which the wager of the beard hinged.”
“Luna Astra Lux, you will silence your bagel-hole right this instant!”
Luna simply stuck her tongue out at her sister, then beamed at Twilight. “‘Twas a drinking contest. ‘Twas no gypsy magic involved in the matter at all. After seeing his prowess in the mock-fights that follow drunken gypsies around, mine sister wagered that if she could drink Strongbeard under the table, he would leave his gypsy tribe and come with us as a captain of the newly formed guard and sometime concubine (why else do you think Goddesses keep all those stallions around?). In protest, he told her that if he won, she’d have to wear a beard for a year and a day. As Celestia was already middling-deep in her cups, she agreed. I enforced the edict of the bet, as referee.”
Celestia’s gaze, if its intensity were to be measured, calculated, and converted into a unit of force, would quite likely have blown Luna back to the Moon, if not through it. Finally, she snorted softly and sighed, “Yes, this is true, Twilight. Granted, Strongbeard came with us anyway -- especially after YOU, little Miss Moonlight, decided to get up on the table and show everypony your plot after matching us drink for drink!”
Luna blushed furiously, scowled, and the sisters devolved into the sort of bickering that anypony with siblings instantly recognizes from their own childhood. Twilight Sparkle sat in stunned silence, listening to remarks about ‘Cake-Flank Celestia’ and ‘Loony Luna’ whiz in one ear and out the other, until finally, she took a sip of her tea, cocked her head, and rapped her hoof on the table for the sisters’ attention.
As her mentor and her friend looked at her curiously, she said quietly, “Well, that just leaves me with another question...
“...Is that where ‘By Luna’s Moon!’ came from?”
