The Gift
There is a place, further south than any map drawn of Ungula and its landscapes. Over the MacIntosh hills, past the scorched wastes of the Badlands, beyond the lands of the Forbidden Jungle and the mountains of the arimaspi, there is a creek, named Canter Creek because of how fast the water flows. Just across from Canter Creek, eternally overcast by the Saddle Horn Peaks, there lies the Forest of Leota. The forest is host to a great myriad of creatures, from the mischievous monkeys to the cruel and cunning lynxes. Where elsewhere in the world one finds only rumors of spirits, one might find the real thing in the secret clearings of Leota or, more commonly, become the real thing.
The forest only gets more dangerous as one goes further, giving way to timberwolves that have never learned that ponies can give as good as they get, and so usually kill their prey before it can respond in kind. There are rumors of kelpies dwelling in the rivers of southernmost Leota, and legends persist of a sentient swamp overlooking the (admittedly quite picturesque) Hatchaway Falls.
Just a little ways beyond the falls there lies the Southern Eye, an Equestrian watchtower that overlooks the breeding grounds of those indomitable beasts known as the Ursa Major. Beyond the breeding grounds, the forest of Leota falls away rather sharply as it meets the fabled Cliffs of Rocinante, over which towers the disturbingly lifelike Knight's Peak. And beyond the cliffs and the peak, the beautiful desolation of Froud Valley lies open for any survivors of the forest to get hopelessly lost in.
And further south than even Froud Valley, there lie the Prancing Plains. They are a grand vista of magnificent grasslands and inspiringly daunting deserts, so vast that some say you could run forever and never find the end of them. There exist no maps of the Prancing Plains, and even their existence was eventually allowed to pass into myth, until the Prancing Plains became one of many names for the pony afterlife. Such is as the people of the Prancing Plains have willed. For they are a people of unparalleled wisdom and infinite reservedness, who would rather the brave seek them out then the foolish pester them.
So it was that, in an age when the Prancing Plains had not yet fallen into obscurity and legend, Commander Hurricane went to see the elephants.
One might assume that a pegasus with a name like Hurricane would always make a big show out of arriving anywhere. One might expect him to descend from the sky so fast that he left a crater under his hooves and a clap of thunder in his wake, or to loudly announce his arrival with blustery boasts. In truth, Hurricane usually arrived so silently that unless you were looking right at him when he flew in, he might seem to materialize out of thin air. He usually only entered with any sort of fanfare if he wanted to make people afraid of him.
When Hurricane arrived at the elephants' campground, he glided down out of the sky as though he were a leaf on a soft summer breeze. He slid to a stop on the grass, bowing as he landed and flaring his wings out in front of himself. Once he was motionless, Hurricane waited no less than ten seconds to open his eyes and look up at his audience.
There were five elephants before him, their tusks gleaming like polished scimitars beneath the sun. Most were standing, but one at the center was lying down. That elephant was reclining lightly against a massive stone, the kind of which could not be found for several days' journey in any direction from the camp. The stone was scored deeply with scratches and gashes, as though it were a training dummy.
Or, Hurricane dared to hope, an anvil.
"Good morrow, great sages of the South!" he greeted them, tucking his wings in as a show of respect. "Might that be a Hallowed Artificer I see before me?"
"Indeed he is," spoke up one of the standing elephants. Judging from the scars criss-crossing his face and his gruff, rumbling voice, he was a bodyguard. "And what business hast thou with him, winged warrior?" The final word was said with such venom that Hurricane had to fight down the urge to be offended.
"I assure you, proud defenders, that I have come hither with naught but the most peaceful intentions. I stand before ye not as a warrior, but as a bearer of peace and goodwill."
The elephants laughed, and one of them made as if to club Hurricane around the head with his trunk. "What a grand jest, that thou shouldst come before us armed for war and yet make talk of peace!"
Hurricane gritted his teeth and tried to retain his composure. "Prithee hold your tongue, stout yeoman! What I bear is naught more than the garb of my tribe, noble and proud in their lineage and history!"
"And hast thou no garb more suited to the role of diplomat?"
The urge to flare his wings was almost too strong for the commander to contain. "How long have ye wallowed in peace and plenty, that ye believe that any warrior worth his wings would dare to go into battle wearing golden filigree upon their armor?" He gestured at his own armor, which indeed was bedecked with all manner of elaborate designs inlaid with gold and precious jewels. "Better to fight naked than to bloody armor that was never made for the battlefield! Even were I to enter into a duel, I would count it as an insult of the highest order to both my opponent and myself to fight whilst garbed so gaudily!"
The elephants seemed almost ready to charge, and Hurricane felt ready to face them, when a low rumbling stopped them all dead in their tracks. The Hallowed Artificer was laughing, a deep laugh that spoke of infinite softness and generosity.
"Back to me, my guards," he spoke when his laughter finally subsided. "This one hath made it clear that he is pure of heart and mind, and seeketh my service for no dark purpose." As the guards drew back to his sides, the artificer smiled and bowed his head to Hurricane. "I beg thine understanding, commander. Ours is not a lot given easily to trust."
If Hurricane was at all surprised to know that his name and face were known this far south, he gave no indication. "Think naught of it, most gracious of hosts. 'Tis only my pride that hath been wounded."
The artificer gave a low whistle of astonishment. "Only thy pride? I seem to remember that the pride of a pegasus is the largest part of themselves, moreso even than their soul."
"Perhaps for others, but not so I. Hadst thou only seen what mine eyes have beheld, then 'twould not be so astonishing to think of me as one humble and assured of his place in the world."
"Hurricane the Humble. It has a pleasant ring to it." The artificer laughed again, though not quite so long and hard. "Now, we have dallied long enough. What wouldst thou ask of me, Hurricane?"
"It will be no easy task, my host."
"If it were, thou wouldst not have come so far to see it done. Speak plainly, commander; the years thou hast left upon this earth number far fewer than mine."
Hurricane nodded, and began to speak. "In many dark corners of my homeland, I have heard whispers of a thing which only the Hallowed Artificers may craft. 'Tis a thing of great magic, especially to those whose tasks are of a more unsavory nature, but not a thing made lightly. I have heard tell that it must be hewn from the very flesh and bone of an elephant, and that none with the knowledge to craft it dare to use the dead for its purpose. It is so precious, so unique, that it has a name which it shares with nothing else, a name which nopony may speak for fear that their soul be ripped from their body for their hubris. I have only ever heard the name spoken by those who have already resigned themselves to hell."
"Thou speakest of ivory," the artificer said, and Hurricane shrank back at the mention of the word. "You need not fear the word, child. 'Tis common enough in these parts, though it is of course steeped in stigma."
"I have not the right to say it," Hurricane insisted, averting his eyes. "To refer to a creature's own self being twisted into petty trinkets and baubles with but a single word... ‘Tis abhorrent. Even if I have naught to fear in saying it, I would not dream of it."
"Thy conviction is admirable, Hurricane. Were I a bull of the church, I would think thee pious and in thy proper place. But prithee tell us, what need hast thou of ivory?"
Hurricane sighed, and removed his helmet. "I have a lover. In recent times, she hath become consumed by greed. Her heart hath grown cold to all in the world but me, and even I am made distant in favor of her treasures. Now, naught that she holdeth hath been taken by dishonest means, and she remaineth wise enough that she hath not bankrupted her kingdom, but we fear that she may soon starve to death."
"And again I must ask, what need hast thou of ivory?"
"I have consulted with our magicians and philosophers," Hurricane said, "and they tell me that a gift of something truly unique, which cannot be coveted, might be enough to shake my lover out of her stupor. None in our lands but I am brave enough to travel this far south, and none but ye possess the means to craft... that which I desire. There could not be aught more perfect."
The artificer fell silent for several minutes, humming and hawing as he considered the situation. Hurricane did his best not to shift around too much as he waited for an answer. Suddenly, the artificer turned and struck the stone beside him with the tip of his tusk. The sound of it snapping off was almost enough to make Hurricane vomit.
"I will do it," the artificer grunted, sweat beading on his face. "But if I am to give up a part of my very self for thy sake, then thou needest be willing to do the same. That is the price of ivory."
Hurricane nodded, his throat dry from shock. A second later, he swallowed and spoke. "O-of course. Name the price, and I shall pay it gladly."
The artificer did not name his price immediately. Instead, his trunk disappeared within his robes, rummaging around until it emerged with a hammer and chisel that seemed comically small against such a large creature. He pawed the severed tip of his tusk over until it was close enough for him to work, and he began chiseling away. His enormous hooves and surprisingly lithe trunk made for an almost comical sight, working such a small bit of ivory. "What price dost thou think I should demand for this?"
"‘Tis not my place to say," Hurricane said almost immediately. "I know that no amount of gold or silver can e'er buy such things, so I brought none. Even so, I am prepared to offer aught it is within my power to give."
"Even thine own wings?"
That gave the commander pause. He looked over his back, and fluffed his feathers a little. He imagined himself soaring proudly over the skies of Equestria. And then he imagined his beloved Platinum, starving to death as she wandered her overflowing treasury.
"Even my own wings."
The artificer nodded, never once looking up from his task. "Thou must truly love her, to offer such things for her sake."
"With all my heart, artificer. I am not one for half-measures."
"Neither are we." The artificer looked up for a moment, then looked over his shoulder. "What hast thou seen of our farmlands?"
Hurricane was surprised by the sudden change of subject, but kept his voice as level as he could. "Naught, artificer. From the sky, all that might be seen is untouched grassland."
"And that is all there is to be seen. But we are a people of endless appetite, and far too little knowledge of the ways of the crop. I understand that in thy lands of Equestria, there are farmers whose skill is so great that they have been likened to mages of the earth."
"This is true." Hurricane could not stop a note of relief from leaking into his words as he realized where this was going. The artificer laughed, no doubt having caught the subtle shift in tone.
"For all that we mistook thee for a warrior, thou art clearly possessed of a diplomat's cunning. Yes, I will fashion for thee an ivory bauble, the likes of which thy lover hath ne'er seen. In return, I would see an army of thine earth-mages gather on our horizon."
"But what of Leota?"
This time, all of the elephants laughed, and they laughed so loud that it seemed to echo across the entirety of the Prancing Plains. "Thou mayst as well have asked the ocean what it thinketh of sandbars. By the time thy lover is well, there shall be a great road torn from Rocinante to MacIntosh, and thy fellows shall see neither hide nor hair of any ne'er-do-wells upon it."
Hurricane grinned, and the winds themselves picked up in response to his high spirits. "Then we have an accord."
The artificer nodded, and it was not even an hour before his hooves parted and his trunk extended towards Hurricane. The pegasus eagerly seized upon the thing, and his eyes sparkled as he beheld its majesty.
For anyone who thinks that I made up all those locations at the start.
The fandom's tendency to portray Hurricane as a blustery tribalist asshole has always been a little aggravating to me. I mean, consider the context of his portrayal in the Hearth's Warming play: they are in an apocalypse scenario, not exactly known for being conducive to good behavior. There's an entire cultural background of distrust and gradual decline informing his attitude in those events, and outside of that context, he was probably a horse of quite a different color.
But no, he's just constantly 'that gung-ho military guy', or 'Rainbow Dash as written by haters', or any other loose collection of testosterone-bloated paper-thin archetypes. Literally the biggest name in pre-Modern pegasus culture, and he's only ever seen as a one-dimensional jerk.
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First major downside of One-Shotober: It all comes out a little too fast for the editors to get a once-over. And unfortunately, my usual editor is both otherwise engaged for the next few hours, and fluent enough in Early Modern English that they seem to getting a headache just looking at it.
Apologies. We'll be correcting that at our earliest convenience.
EDIT: And lo, it was so.
The EME looks good to me, though I have been known to gloss over errors at times.
In any case, a wonderful bit of world building, and a great job fleshing out Hurricane beyond the pageant's caricature, to say nothing of the logistics of ivory carving in a world where the elephants likely have an opinion on the matter. I'm finding a lot of fun in trying to guess the card. The stories are engaging, don't get me wrong, but it adds a delightful extra layer.
7618170 Fixed.
7618401 So when I said fixed, I meant the other meaning of fixed?
7618403 Assuming you mean in the sense of 'cut the naughty bits off and stitch on some new ones', yeah, basically.
I like how in this one, the bauble being given to the hoarding princess to break her spell is an artifact that strengthens you if you are hoarding many possessions.
7644845 You're the first person to point that out! Congratulations!
As previously mentioned by others in this chapter, I found this take on Commander Hurricane to be much more enjoyable than fanon portrayals.
The addition of the elephants was a nice touch, but I feel like it could have gone sideways. However, I loved your portrayal of them as well as the demand for non-traditional payment.
Another excellent chapter!
Goddamn, that's some solid world-building.
Is the implication that Hurricane's lover is Princess Luna? Am I reading too much into this?
8151340
Methinks you were so busy reading between the lines you forgot to read the actual prose.
8151668
Believe it or not, I really suck at this sometimes. :B
Ever read 'The Commader's Shilling' or any of bookplayer's Founder stories? Those are the only major exceptions to the brute path that I'm aware of. Also, yay, elephants and Early Modern English that doesn't suck!
And the image for this chapter is broken.
8158851 Try reloading a few times. It's fine for me.
8158856 It did indeed work! It's a very nice looking crane too. 7/10 would gift... except the ability it has is very nice, so no. Better be selfish with that one.
+1 for RariDash-by-proxy shipping.
It's funny to see Hurricane mentioned here, years before he actually appeared in screen as a pillar.
9007224
Especially since Hurricane didn't appear on screen as a pillar. That would be Flash Magnus, an entirely unrelated pegasus.
The map link is dead, unfortunately.