//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Spike's Mirror // by Saldana //------------------------------// Sprawled over soft green lawn, a straw in his mouth, Spike watched the blue sky and the handful of clouds that floated by. He profited from the mild weather to get a fresh breath of air, away from that library he had been stuck in these last days. He needed a break from his search, a bit of relaxation to clear his thoughts and not go crazy. Everything around him was calm and quiet; and that appeased the frustration which had been sapping his energy for a week now. Since his return from Canterlot, he had undertaken numerous efforts to figure out how his mirror functioned: after all, using a magical artefact wasn't as easy as assembling a piece of do-it-yourself furniture. There was no manual, no instructions, no clues whatsoever to help Spike understand how to make the mirror work. His luck seemed to once again bump into reality; in novels and dramatic plays, you never saw the heroes failing to understand how to employ the central artefact. There were always either ingenious intuitions or some contrived familiarity at work, and in either case, they didn't have to spend hours to get the object to function. He cursed himself for not having anticipated this question; he had simply thought that during the length of his quest, he would find a way to activate the mirror's magical properties. This situation had brought back Spike's frustration, who once again saw no clear solution at hand. And so, after another couple of days of suffering at the library, he had decided to allow himself a break and spend an afternoon serenely meditating in a quiet corner around Ponyville. From the hill he was on, he had a great view of the town, and peacefully watched the ponies' goings-on. How wonderful it was, after all this commotion, to do nothing for once! The peaceful painting in front of him was marvellously soothing, all his woes seemed gone from his mind. Not that he had forgotten his problem over this; he still mulled it over, but in a much more serene manner. He started to think about all his attempts during the last week, reviewing what he had already tried. The most simple and classic methods had all failed; neither a simple gaze into the mirror nor an uttered magical formula or internally voiced wish had been successful. Spike had hit a dead end; he couldn't think of any other way to activate the artefact. Of course, he could have asked for help. Twilight, for example, would surely find a way to use the mirror; but his secret was too important, and he was too afraid of his friends' reactions to ask them for help. That was one of the reasons why he kept the mirror on his body, in one of his pockets, at all times: his basket wasn't a very secure hiding place, and in any case, the thought of losing it was too deterring. He stared up into the sky and its sparse clouds, letting his mind wander freely, mechanically caressing his mirror. His thoughts once more wandered to Rarity, inspired by a cloud that seemed to resemble his beloved. All those privileged moments he had spent in her presence resurfaced to him like a mosaic. He went from one scene to the next, while savouring the sweetness and intimacy of every single moment. Her curves, her mane, her gaze... everything about her fascinated Spike, who was adoring the images that emerged from his memories. Passion sparked in him, grew stronger with every passing second, it devoured him, he yearned for Rarity's affection, he wanted... more, ever more, of this sweet nectar love that he had grown addicted to. He shifted to a more comfortable position and let himself plunge into this whirlwind of emotions, carrying him away into sweet fantasy. His memories were soon joined by scenes that sprang from his imagination; his fantasies became one with reality, making the overall painting even more beautiful. He idealised every scene, closed his eyes to drink in every second, hoped that nothing would come to disturb these magical moments, that they would never stop. In a half-conscious state, he slowly slipped towards sleep, all these images of Rarity his lullaby... ... Spike felt a touch on his shoulder. He slowly emerged from that pleasantly warm cocoon he had been in. Vaguely groaning at whatever it was that had awoken him, he curled up even more, wanting to return to his world of dreams and clouds. But whoever was shaking his shoulder now, they didn't want to stop; soon joined by a sound vague and distant in Spike's ears. Despite his hazy state, he attempted to recognise the voice, while turning his shoulder away. Faced with these two annoyances, he resigned himself to his fate and slowly opened his eyes, intending to resolve this mystery as quickly as possible and then go back to sleep. His lids were heavy, his view hazy. He rubbed his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the sun, which was already setting; his nap must have been longer than expected. The second thing was that he had difficulties standing up, as if he had drunk too much. The third thing was that a purple pony was watching him anxiously. It must have been her who had roused him from his wonderful slumber. "Yes?" Spike said, giving a deep sigh. - "Excuse me, but are you alright?" - "Why wouldn't I be?" said Spike, irritated at not being able to stand up. - "You're all alone in a field while the night is falling, you can't seem to get up on your hooves, and you're covered in some weird, transparent, sticky substance..." Spike immediately tried to draw himself up to full height, but he couldn't seem to find his balance and with a heavy thud collapsed to the ground. Swearing, he rolled one way, then another, attempting in vain to get up on his feet. The pony watched wide-eyed, obviously unsure what to say. Spike's struggle went on for a few minutes before he exhaustedly resigned himself to remain lying belly-down. Mechanically, he tried to use his hand to wipe the sweat he'd broken from his forehead. However, the sensation against his head was completely different from the usual; harder, rougher, less precise. Intrigued, he lowered his arm to look at it. His eyes and his mouth grew wider and wider as his brain analysed the image in front of him. Instead of what should have been an arm covered in purple scales, ending in a claw with four fingers, there was now a purple pony leg, ending in a coal-black hoof. In shock, Spike directed his gaze towards his other arm; that one had changed, too. Taken aback, he started to look at himself in closer detail, noticing the appearance of purple fur all over his body, the presence of a green mane and tail, and the transformation of his dragon feet into pony hooves. He could hardy believe his eyes. He spent three long minutes carefully looking himself all over, incapable of accepting what had just happened to him. In a trance, he no longer tried to get on his feet, but to stand on four hooves, and immediately succeeded. He made a few wobbly steps to try and realise that this was no longer just a dream, but reality, and he would from now on have to get used to walking in a completely different manner. He turned to face the other pony and smiled. - "Everything's fine now, no need to worry about me." - "Are you sure? Because you look..." - "Oh yes, I'm sure. Thanks for your concern." He turned around and, on wobbly hooves, started to trot into the other direction, looking for a watering spot to clean himself and look at his reflection. His gait was hesitant, but ever improving as he got to grips with his new pony legs. He couldn't believe it: he had finally managed to activate the darned mirror's magical properties. Spike cheered, even managing a few Pinkie-Pie-style air-hops as he continued his way towards the nearest river. Everything was going to be alright now. Goodbye, library research, goodbye, endless hours of reading, goodbye headaches over impossible riddles, from now on, everything would be a walk in the park. All his worries had disappeared, he felt like singing, like crying, like shouting his joy from the rooftops, that was how happy he was. - "Oh well, my good old Spike, I don't know how you did it, but you're finally a pony. And it's all thanks to that... BUCK! The mirror!" He turned around and attempted (with some difficulties) to gallop towards his sleeping spot, to make up for his colossal blunder. The light was still sufficient to search the ground; but once Spike was there, he didn't find anything, even after turning every blade of grass around his nap spot. Exhausted by this chain of extraordinary events, he sat down, resting his back against a tree, to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. - "Okay, let's stay calm. The mirror, I've always had it with me, in my pocket. Now it's not there anymore, so it's got to be somewhere else. It's not in the grass, I've searched every nook and cranny and didn't find anything. The other pony hasn't stolen it from me, I couldn't have stepped on it without noticing... maybe I lost it along the way? But I didn't see anything on the way back here..." Spike scratched his head (as well as he managed to), perplexed. Where could the precious mirror be now? Not finding it would mean to stay a pony forever... of course, that had been his project all along, but he hadn't expected to end up like this — without knowing how it had happened, and without time to prepare himself properly. Panic started to take over as the consequences of his sudden transformation finally bubbled up to his consciousness. No way to justify the absence of Spike the dragon, no plausible story to introduce himself to Ponyville's inhabitants, no fallback if Rarity didn't love him even as a pony, no money, no belongings, nothing. With every passing minute, the anxiety grew in Spike, who found it ever more difficult to stay calm and could hardly put one thought next to the other. He got up and started pacing up and down, to try and calm his nerves. "Spike? Spiiiiike?" The dragon-turned-pony gave a start as he heard a voice that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. He got up and peered around his surroundings, trying to find its origin. "There's no point in looking for me, Spike. I'm not around you, I'm inside of you." "Excuse me?" "You are the only one who can hear me. You don't need to talk for me to understand you. I'm a part of you." "But who are you?" "Me? I am the mirror you possess! What else should I be?" "Usually, a mirror doesn't talk inside of people's heads..." "To be precise, I am the fragment of magic that my creator has instilled in this mirror — so that it may talk to its owners." "And why would she do that?" "My creator had very specific demands for me. She created me so that I could help those who had managed to make use of me. That way, there was no need for her to leave behind any trace in writing or otherwise about my functioning. She wanted to keep the mirror's usage to those who had a real need for it; I'm not fit for just any vain pompadour to come across my way." "So... you are the mirror's manual?" "Oh no. I am the mirror. I am who judges whether or not my owner's wish is worthy of being granted. I am who chooses how to become part of my user. Or maybe, choosing is too big a word. I am incapable of any kind of full personality." - "Become part?" "Yes. My creator designed me so that I could be used only by a single person at a time. That is why I attach myself, one way or another, to my user; our union will stay whole until my owner decides to return to his original appearance. In your case, I am your cutie mark." Spike glanced at his flank to discover that, indeed, a cutie mark in form of a pocket mirror had appeared there. "So I haven't lost you, you've just..." "Become part of you, yes." "Are you always going to be inside of my head?" "You will only hear me when you have questions about my functioning. The rest of the time you will barely notice my presence. And I will also stay silent if you have questions that really don't have much to do with me or my working, because, you see, I am incapable of answering anything that does not concern me." "But how did I manage to.. use you?" "My creator intended that only those in real need can benefit from my capabilities. While you were asleep, you have gone through several strong emotions, which allowed me to judge the sincerity of your wish and its urgency, and your determination to go all the way." "And if I want to become a dragon again?" "You just say the word, and I will cut off our link. Know, however, that in that case you will never again be able to make use of me. My creator didn't want metamorphosis to become mere routine. It is to be an important decision you take once during your life. I offer my user one chance, and one only." "So that important decision has been made in my sleep? Okay, it's what I've always wanted, but I would have preferred it at my own pace..." "It's not my fault if your wish has been granted at an inconvenient moment. You should have picked a better moment to prove your worth or been better prepared, then." Grudgingly, Spike stopped his pacing, his worries appeased somewhat. So there was a way back, but using the mirror wasn't something to be taken lightly. For the moment, he found himself in a very complicated situation. Granted, the upside was that for once, he wasn't in short supply of information. From now on, he would have to tend to more pressing and material questions that occurred to him. After all, he was still all alone at the onset of night with nowhere to go. There were still remainders of that gooey substance on him, and he had now way to credibly explain his sudden disappearance to the other ponies. He needed a plan, and quick. Any profound discussion with his newly found inner companion would have to wait. First of all, he needed to make himself look presentable. So he once more headed towards the nearby river, intending to wash himself and see what his new pony head looked like. Once done, he directed his steps towards Ponyville, but stayed at the rims; he didn't dare enter in fear of having to face embarrassing questions if he met other ponies. He needed to come up with a plausible story, convincing enough for Twilight and the others. Twilight was his greatest risk since, intelligent mare that she was, she would be able to recognise Spike the dragon hidden underneath that veneer of Spike the hack. Which reminded him that he would need a new name first of all. He spent a few dozen minutes ruminating on this issue, then settled for Scale Mirror as his new identity. Reassured, he continued his walk. The night had fallen, the sky was covered in menacing clouds, and one by one, the lights behind Ponyville's windows were extinguished. Spike for his part continued to err about, still looking for a way to get out of this situation. He had never given any consideration to the possibility that his quest would result in a conundrum like this. He needed to start somewhere, do things one at a time, but he just didn't see which end to tackle first. He could go to Twilight and ask her for shelter, but then, he would either have to confess everything or come up with a rock-solid story to justify his plea. It is a well-known proverb that God always helps fools, lovers and drunkards. In Spike's case, He had then three times the amount of help to provide. That help materialised with the appearance of a sleek silhouette in the distance, on top of which throwned an easily recognised coiffure. Yes, it was in fact Rarity, who was returning to Ponyville, pulling behind her a cart brimming with gems. From a distance, it was obvious she was struggling, as her steps seemed tired and her pace throttled. What was more, the looming clouds were starting to pour out their contents; completing the picture with a torrent of rain. The chance offered to Spike here was no less than the fabulous cliché of the damsel in distress, which allowed every hero to win over his beauty and be thanked by her for his hassle. And yes, for Rarity, a ruined mane certainly meant distress. As Spike promptly directed his steps towards her, another unexpected opportunity to help out his beloved offered itself. One of the wheels of Rarity's cart got stuck, immobilising the whole cart and spilling a portion of its precious content. A Rarity in distress, what else could you ask for to make your entry into Ponyville with a splash? He thanked the heavens for slipping him a trump like this and hurried to join his love. This time, he was swift and quick on his hooves, having learned how to move as a pony. Once he was fairly close to her, slightly out of breath, he slowed his steps before stopping and drawing himself up to full height. He greeted Rarity, who had turned to face him when she heard his galloping. "Good evening, milady. Might I offer you my help?" To be continued...