//------------------------------//
// Chapter six 
// Story: Pinkie, Maud and Icy Iceland 
// by Elkia Deerling 
//------------------------------//

The late-afternoon sky was gray as the day was ageing. It was lined with dark clouds, foreboding a heavy rain which would definitely fall later that day and accompanied itself with a fresh, streaming wind; icy cold to the touch. Pinkie and Maud stood outside, underneath a marble arch leading to the threshold of a small house. The wind blew through their manes and tails, but the ponies looked ahead at the curious building. The house was made of corrugated sheets of steel, painted a light, harmonic blue and topped with a pointy roof. It was surrounded by a pale white fence leading all the way to the back of the house, but neither of the ponies could see the backside. Slowly they stepped on the gray marble path leading to the front door.
 
                    “So… why are we here again?” Maud asked her sister.
 
                    “To go inside,” Pinkie answered.
 
                    “And what is inside?”
 
                    Pinkie grinned mysteriously. “A surprise; you’ll see.”
 
                    As they reached the front door, Pinkie knocked three times with the marble knocker—a minute later, the door opened.
 
                    “Well hello there,” the mare in the doorway said. She had a very dark-gray coat; almost as black as the clouds outside. Her mane and tail were totally white however, streaked with gray and black lines, and bound together in a neat braid. “You must be Pinkie Pie, and is that your sister Maud? Please do come in; of course we’ve been expecting you.”
 
                    Pinkie stepped inside, followed by her sister with a puzzled expression on her face.
 
                    “Welcome, Maud Pie, my name is Anthracite,” the mare said, and shook Maud’s hoof. Maud looked at her, still very confused.
 
                    “Pinkie had sent me a telegram telling of your arrival this afternoon.” Anthracite gleamed with delight. “It is truly marvelous to have two more foreign rock enthusiasts here in Iceland. Not everypony is able to appreciate the calmness and serenity of rocks, stones and minerals nowadays. Especially now with all those outdoor frivolities those young mares and colts like to do—dangerous business, if you ask me.” Anthracite paused and shook her head. “But of course I won’t bore you with my old mare’s chatter. You can go and watch the living room, and I’ll go to the study and be back in a few moments, alright?”
 
                    Pinkie nodded; Maud didn’t know what to say.
 
                    Then Anthracite walked across the corridor and opened the door to the living room. “Behold.”
 
                    Pinkie pushed Maud ahead of her, and together they walked inside. There, Maud froze.
 
                    The living room was enormous, much bigger than the outside had suggested. On the wooden floor stood many glass cabinets, showcases, tables, stands and pillars, which housed rocks and minerals of all shapes and sizes. There were hundreds of them, probably even more than Maud was able to count. The chandeliers, floating beneath the ceiling, cast a warm candlelight on the enormous collection below, making them shine and sparkle like a lightshow. A serene silence reigned, broken only by the ponies’ warm breaths.
 
                    Maud was bewildered; her mouth open in surprise and her eyes shimmering as bright as the rocks she was gazing at. She was unable to speak, even though she wanted to. She felt a warm glow from the inside, something she had rarely felt before, and never as intense like right now. Slowly, her mouth curved into a smile, growing broader with every stand she looked at, until finally her gaze landed on Pinkie Pie, standing next to her with a cheeky grin.
 
                    “Thank you so much!” Maud said surprisingly loud, and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.
 
                    “Hehe, the best has yet to come, you know…” Pinkie whispered.
 
                    Then Maud stepped further into the rock museum, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer. She started trotting from stand to stand, from cabinet to cabinet and from table to table; her eyes growing larger with every assortment she saw. “Oh, Pinkie, it’s marvelous!” Maud said from the other side of the room, creating a small echo. “There’s obsidian, calcite, basalt, Heulandite, stilbite, rhyolite, dacite and even… Icelandite!”
 
                    “There’s a rock called Icelandite?” Pinkie asked, and trotted towards her sister at table which showcased a dull, gray rock; cut in two to reveal a white streak.
 
                    “Yes,” Maud said passionately. “It got its name because it’s unique to Iceland; I read about it in my mineralogy books. You see, normally in continental, cogenetic series of volcanic rocks, the concentration of iron decreases with increasing silica content, but—”
 
                    “For Icelandite, it is quite the opposite,” a deep voice coming from the doorway finished for her. “It is very rich in iron.”
 
                    “Professor Steinnheart!” Maud exclaimed.
 
                    She turned around and trotted towards the sharply-dressed stallion. She made a small, formal bow before him—which she knew was a custom with Icelandic horses—and he bowed back with a smile. “Welcome to my humble home,” the professor said, “and to my humble collection, of course.”
 
                    Maud once more didn’t know what to say. She turned around at Pinkie, who had caught up with her by now. “How did you know all of this?”
 
                    “You want the long or the short version?”
 
                    “The short version, please,” Professor Steinnheart said, “for I am dying to show you both my whole collection.”
 
                    To that, Pinkie Pie swallowed hard. This is gonna be a long day, she thought. But then she quickly recomposed herself and looked both ponies in the eyes. “Well, I met someone in Hestur Harp who mentioned a rock museum. Then I asked around Reinkjavík in the morning and discovered that the Reinkjavík Rock Museum is owned by you, Professor Steinnheart, and that it’s right here. So I sent a telegram to your wife Anthracite and asked—” But then Pinkie Pie stopped suddenly and sniffed a few  times; she got distracted by a strange scent in the air. “Hey, what’s that smell?”
 
                    Professor Steinnheart clopped his front hooves together in delight. “Ah, my lovely Anthracite has made some tea for us. Shall we have some before I show you my collection?”
 
                    “I’d love to,” Maud said.
 
                    “Splendid! I hope you like rock-tea. It is an Icelandic specialty, and nopony makes better rock-tea than my Anthracite.”
 
                    “That sounds wonderful,” Maud said, and followed the professor out the living room. Behind them, Pinkie Pie made a face; as she thought of a thousand confectionary goods which would taste better than rock-tea.
 
                                                                                                  **              
 
                    After the tea, Professor Doctor Steinnheart showed the Pie sisters around the living room, presenting his collection with fiery enthusiasm. He went from stand to stand, standing still at each one and explaining a few dozen facts and details about the rocks lying on them—which usually took him about fifteen minutes per stand. Maud Pie hung at the professor’s lips whenever he spoke, taking in everything he said, asking many questions and discussing several theories extensively.
 
                    This went on and on and after two hours, they had covered about a quarter of the professor’s collection. In those two hours, Maud Pie had probably talked more than she had ever done in her entire life, because she never really had somepony to talk to about her greatest passion: rocks and minerals. Although there were a few other ponies at her university where she studied mineralogy, those were by far not as intelligent, well-read or known as Professor Doctor Steinnheart. The Professor even surpassed all of Maud’s own university teachers in his grace and speech.
 
                    Pinkie Pie sauntered behind them, slower and slower as time and boredom went by. She wasn’t really listening to the overload of information Professor Steinnheart shared so extensively. It was a good thing the professor didn’t seem to spend much attention to Pinkie Pie, because she didn’t want to be rude yawning and looking in other directions all the time. Despite having slept like a pink rose, Pinkie Pie still felt sapped and exhausted somehow. A drastic lack of energy and motivation felt like a hole in Pinkie’s spirit, and even thinking was a challenge for her—therefore, she didn’t bother to think. Pinkie shut down her mind and saved just enough energy to remain standing and pretending to be interested in Professor Doctor Steinnheart and his rock museum.
 
                    “And this here, my dear visitors, is one of my most prized possessions: a piece of Iceland spar—or optical calcite, as it is often called. Although I prefer the name Iceland spar, because ponies only call it ‘optical calcite’ for its use in microscopes as lenses and such,” Professor Steinnheart said with a sour face.  Before him on the table was a small, square rock, almost wholly transparent and colorless. “Iceland spar is a calcite, like the rock we saw before, and the one before that”—Steinnheart laughed—“and actually the one before that, and the one before that too.”
 
                    Pinkie Pie suppressed a sigh. Here we go again, she thought. Is it just me, or is every rock ‘one of his prized possessions.’ Pinkie pretended to look at the stone before her, but she actually gazed out the window. Outside, the black clouds had caught up with the house, and rain poured down from them, dripping loudly on the ground and against the roof. There was no wind, though, which was a bit unusual in Iceland. Suddenly Pinkie noticed a few irregular shapes, which were hard to discern in the cloudy gloom. Probably plants, she thought indifferently, although she couldn’t imagine any plant strong enough to survive in this harsh climate. Now that Pinkie had looked at the drenching rain outside, she thought about Professor Steinnheart’s speech and hoped, oddly enough, that it would continue for still a while, right to the point where the rain would stop and she and Maud wouldn’t have to traverse the bad weather.
 
                    “Oh, I see you are looking at our garden, Miss Pinkie Pie,” Professor Steinnheart suddenly said to her.
 
                    Pinkie jolted and looked quickly at the professor. “Y-y-yes,” she stuttered, “I-I-I… was just… eh… wondering what those things are outside.”
 
                    The Professor closed his eyes and smiled. “That is our delightful sculpture garden, made by my lovely Anthracite.” Then his eyes shot open and put his hoof to his forehead. “Of course, how could I forget our beautiful sculpture garden! I have spent so much time showing you my collection, and left my beautiful wife’s work out cold, literally. Let’s take a look, I bet Anthracite would love to tell you all about her creations.” And with that, Professor Steinnheart turned abruptly around, and started walking back to the doorway.
 
                    “B-but it’s raining cats and rocks—I mean cats and dogs outside,” Pinkie said.
 
                    The Professor turned around. “There is no such thing as bad weather, Miss Pinkie Pie, there’s only bad temper,” he said, smiling as enthusiastically as Pinkie Pie once did.
 
                                                                                                      **              
 
                    After a minute they were all outside; four little ponies standing in the streaming rain, gazing at the various rock sculptures scattered around them. Anthracite stopped with every sculpture and explained in detail the meaning of the shapes, sizes, colors, holes, twists, bends and emotions incorporated in her pieces of art. She had just as much to tell about her rocks and minerals as the professor had done about his; probably even more. With every new sculpture, Maud’s interest and enthusiasm grew, as she listened to Anthracite’s beautiful, poetic illustrations of her art.
 
                    “This one is called: ‘Fegurð,’ which means ‘beauty’ in Icelandic,” Anthracite said, standing still at a boring, grey, oval shaped rock. “It is made of—”
 
                    “Granodiorite!” Maud exclaimed, and made a small jump.
 
                    “Indeed,” Anthracite said, “you have a good eye, Miss Maud Pie.” She looked at the rock and stroked it gently. “This sculpture represents the beauty in the simple and unadorned; the sober and the selfless. As you can see, I’ve chosen not to make any holes of cracks or other frivolities in it; just an oval shape. For me, the shape and color radiates tranquility and beauty in the heart; such beauty as Iceland radiates in my heart.”
 
                    “That sounds… wonderful,” Maud said with watery eyes.” I can feel its serenity too. I feel what you feel, Mrs. Anthracite.”
 
                    They continued to the next sculpture, a few hoofsteps away, but Pinkie Pie didn’t immediately follow along. She stood still and looked at ‘Fegurð’ for a while longer; not because she thought it very interesting, but because she had to try her best to summon some willpower. The rain was still falling down rapidly, and had already drenched her funky, curly mane into a straight mess drooping down her left cheek. Her tail was soaked as well, and drops of cold rainwater dribbled down on the pebble strewn path below. Pinkie Pie lowered her head and blinked slowly—she could hardly collect enough energy to open her eyes. She was soaking wet, chilled to the bone, and bored to the point of exhaustion. Very slowly, she turned her head towards the others. They were already looking at another sculpture, this one looking even plainer and grayer then the one before. But Pinkie wasn’t looking at the sculpture, she was looking at her sister. Pinkie saw that Maud was standing next to Professor Steinnheart as they both listened to Anthracite’s story behind this next piece of art. “Hey Pinkie, are you coming?” Maud called back to her. “This one’s amazing!”
 
                    “Coming!” Pinkie managed to yell back through the sound of the splattering rain on the path. Then she saw them resuming appreciating the art and listening to Anthracite’s story. Suddenly, Pinkie noticed Maud close her eyes, smile and skip into the air three times; just as she used to do. Seeing this, an emotional and physical boost ran through Pinkie’s body, from her head to her hooves. She saw the fruits of her labor: an extroverted Maud; a Maud who had completely come out of her shell during this PSSSD; a Maud who was—and more importantly, looked—intensely happy and totally in her element. That was what Pinkie did it for; that was her goal. She could feel some warmth and energy seep back into her head and limbs. Then Pinkie lifted her head and slowly walked over to the rest of the ponies, putting up a smile with some effort. She genuinely hoped for Maud that she would be smiling forever on the tour, but hoped for herself that either that—or the rain—would end soon.
 
                                                                                                  **              
 
                    “Thank you both so much for your visit,” Professor Steinnheart said, standing together with Anthracite on the threshold of his home.
 
                    “No, thank you for your hospitality,” Maud said back, “it was the most educational and inspiring thing I’ve ever done.”
 
                    The professor laughed heartedly. “You are very welcome, Miss Maud Pie, and you too, Miss Pinkie Pie.” He looked at both ponies, and then back to Maud. “And remember, if you ever need any material or reference for your mineralogy studies, you can always write me or send me a telegram.”
 
                    “I will,” Maud said, “we’ll keep in touch for sure.”
 
                    “And if you ever find yourself here in Iceland again, you are always welcome in our home,” Anthracite said.
 
“Thank you,” Maud said, but then she remembered something she wanted to ask the dark mare. “Can I ask you one more thing, Mrs. Anthracite?”
 
                    “But of course.”
 
                    ”I would love to have your recipe for the rock-tea, if that’s alright with you, ” Maud said.
 
                    Anthracite grinned. “I’m afraid that is a family secret, Miss Maud Pie, but I’ll let you in on a secret: it contains only the finest Icelandic granite.”
 
                    Maud smiled, and made a formal bow to the two Icelandic ponies—Pinkie did the same.
 
                    “Farewell! May good weather find you wherever you venture!” Anthracite said, and together with her husband, she waved the Pie sisters goodbye.