• Published 20th Oct 2017
  • 764 Views, 22 Comments

Under My Umbrella - Alondro



Tawny Pride, regal royal guard, finds a piece of his life he never knew was missing one day during a late spring rain. Will something beautiful sprout from the seed, or wither untimely?

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Chapter 1 Please Share My Umbrella

Cloudy weather one early June morn in the magical pony city of Canterlot heralded a scheduled rain storm sure to dampen the day of anypony in the area who’d disregarded the weather bulletins posted weekly by the city’s Pegasus Climate Control Team.

But as Sergeant Tawny Pride always kept strict habitual watch of all official announcements, as was his prerogative as one of the Princesses’ Royal Guard, he most certainly would not be one of those unlucky ponies caught off-guard, so to speak. Adding a last buffing to his helmet with a hoof cloth, he donned the headpiece, passing it carefully down his sharp spiraling unicorn horn and tucked the straggles of his bronze mane beneath its edges, noting as usual that the crest plume’s golden shade, while not a perfect match for his mane, did present quite a striking image when paired with comparable tones of his armor and brassy fur.

His size too made him cut quite the imposing figure. At nearly twice the height of the typical Earth Pony, he towered over the rest of his own tribe (and the lion’s share of most other ponies for that matter, save the alicorn Princesses for whom he physically did have to look up to) and looked all the part of a protector of royalty with his ramped red lion Cutie Mark standing out regally upon his flanks. Yes indeed, here was a pony who commanded the respect of all who witnessed him marching down the halls of the Palace or staunchly standing at attention beside the gates.

This ultimate visage of soldiery would have been dashed had any witnessed the struggle he now underwent to open his umbrella as it floated above him, held aloft in his sunny magical aura while he squeezed his way down the relatively narrow corridor of his front hallway, out the door, and onto the neatly cobbled street beneath the first spittles of rain. He let out a growl of annoyance as the confounded contraption simply refused to acquiesce until, after shaking it wildly in his telekinetic grasp and casting upon it all manner of curses normally set aside for the worst of miscreants who ran afoul of the side of the just, the clearly Discord-spawned contrivance of chaos unfolded and granted him and his bright armor protection from the pelting droplets.

Not far down the lane on the opposite row of dwellings Tawny noticed a snowy Earth Pony mare peering from beneath the small gabled portico of her townhouse, frowning up at the mournful sky. He had never seen her before, though he’d dwelt in the same house and traversed the same path down Bridle Bit lane nearly every working day for the past three years after he’d completed Guard training and been appointed under Captain Armor’s command; rising quickly through the ranks thanks not only to his size and raw ability, but his performance under pressure and quick thinking in several dire circumstances. He’d also come to know most of the Castle staff by name and appearance, yet the unfamiliar mare’s attire made it immediately clear that she too worked in the Palace, and for that matter as a personal hoofmaiden to at least one of the Princesses. Had he simply never noticed her before now, or was she a new hire? He halted his progress for a moment to observe her and immediately noticed the source of her consternation toward the inclement weather: she bore no umbrella of her own. This would not do at all, his chivalry speedily concluded, and he trotted across the lane.

So engrossed was the little white mare in staring bemusedly at the sky that she failed to notice Tawny’s approach until his deep, resonant voice rumbled nearby and abruptly shook her from her malaise, “If you will excuse me, Miss. I noticed…”
She squeaked in a startled whinny and leapt upon her hind hooves briefly before steadying herself on all fours again, “Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t hear…” She turned toward the voice and her eyes fixed first upon the unfamiliar pony at the same level as her own head, then slowly crept upward… and upward… until she could meet Tawny’s concerned expression. “Oh my… you’re very… tall.”

Tawny couldn’t help but chuckle, his mirthful rumble complementing the lion-like visage he tended to strike, “I have been told that on occasion. I am Royal Guard Tawny Pride.” He gave her a slight bow of introduction, as was proper and polite, after all. “I was on my way to the Palace and couldn’t help but notice you seemed overly disturbed by the rain we’re having today.”

She sighed, awkwardly brushing a hoof through the fluffy, curled tresses of her mane, “Ah, yes, I am. You see, I only just moved into the house yesterday.” That explained why he’d never seen her before. “My name is Fleece, and I’m to start work today as the new official sock darner for the Princesses now that Pearl Stitch has retired.” Tawny’s smile broadened; though not a matter of public discourse (at least not openly), it was well-known to the Castle staff that the Alicorn Sisters delighted to don more comfortable hoofwear when schedules permitted a sabbatical and for a brief respite no longer required them by formality to trot about in their glimmering shoes and greaves of celestial gold (for the elder) or starry silver (the younger’s). Knit Pearl had been a favorite of both for decades, for her embroidered designs were no less skilled than those that adorned the most priceless of tapestries hung in the great halls, and the velvety texture of the hoofware itself was always most appreciated by the aching extremities of the Princesses after long days of appearances and administrations.

“I’m sure you’ll perform very well,” Tawny declared. “To have been chosen means your skills have already been recognized as befitting royalty. Be proud that this honor is yours and serve the Princesses with joy.”

A fine blush of faintest pink arose in Fleeces cheeks and she shyly averted her sea grey eyes, mumbling softly, “I-I just knit socks. Knitting woolen items is my special talent.” She shifted her hindquarters just enough for Tawny to spot a Cutie Mark of a fluffy sheep peering out from the edge of her uniform. “I mean, they’re very nice socks, but it’s hardly that important a job.”
“Nonsense!” declared Tawny, adopting a regal posture. “All of us who’ve been chosen to serve the Princesses fulfill their needs. Celestia and Luna have many duties and tiresome trials. Anything and everything we can do to ease their burdens even a little is of paramount importance to the nation. Your work will give them additional comfort when they find time to rest and, well-rested and comforted, they will find their work easier.”

And now Fleece permitted herself a small smile, “I suppose… I never thought of it that way. But, well there’s the problem. I won’t be able to perform well myself if I’m soaking wet. I didn’t have time to unpack and I can’t find my umbrella saddle anywhere.”

Tawny nodded thoughtfully, observing that the rain was quickly picking up in intensity. It was nearly a mile to the Castle, and without magic to hold something else over her, the poor mare would certainly be a soggy sight when she arrived. The proverbial ‘drowned rat’ look was hardly the impression with which one would wish to start the first day in such a high-profile environment, he agreed, “I see, that would reflect rather badly. Then there’s nothing else for it, my dear. You shall share my umbrella today.”

Upon receiving Tawny’s offer, the downy mare, at first appeared to be fumbling for an excuse as she stumbled over barely audible words… whether to accept or refuse, Tawny couldn’t tell. But then a gust of unseasonably chilly wind and a rumble of thunder apparently broke through the conflicted tempest in her mind. “I suppose… yes…” she finally stammered. “It’s very nice of you, even though we don’t know each other.” She took an awkwardly light step toward Tawny, before stopping and clearly waiting for some sign or instruction as her eyes flitted from staring at one, then the other, side of the large stallion.

Tawny found her demure action strangely entrancing and nearly made a motion to his right side, but then remembered the social implications and swiftly tilted his head to indicate his left. Fleece silently strode into place and they began to amble toward the Palace grounds, neither seeming to find further conversation possible. And was it only Tawny’s imagination, he wondered, or had there been the slightest sign of uncertain disappointment on Fleece’s face when his direction had sent her to his left side.

Along the way, dodging puddled and making small missteps on the wet cobblestoned streets, their sides would brush occasionally and, given the differences in height between the two, this meant Fleece’s back nearly touched Tawny’s belly. The first time it happened, Fleece audibly squeaked and shivered, drawing away as far as she dared without exposing herself to the deluge just beyond the borders of Tawny’s broad umbrella while he, with a mouth oddly dry for the sopping weather, tripped over his own apology. During the second contact, she made no sound, but shook still and pulled away and he shifted the umbrella aside to give her more room. On the third, her movement was noticeably less urgent and it seemed to Tawny that she purposefully kept close for several moments longer than would be expected before inching aside once more. After that, neither seemed to pay attention to their proximity and by the time they arrived at the Palace staff gates, they had nestled rather snugly beneath the sheltering fabric.

“Ah, it appears… we’re here,” Tawny spoke as the two ponies stood in the pouring rain staring numbly at their place of employment.

Fleece stiffly nodded. “Yes. Here we are. We should go in now, I guess?” came her stilted, uncertain reply. Was it the nervousness of her upcoming introduction to the Royal Sisters, or something else that caused her to linger, Tawny wondered. And if so, why had her feelings somehow infected him with the same hesitation to separate? Simultaneously their heads turned and became transfixed at once as their eyes, sea gray and gold met and held each other. And so they stood there silent in the sound of the pouring rain.

“Are you two going to stand there all bleeding day?” came a gruff voice from the guard station.

“Ah!” exclaimed Tawny with a start, almost knocking Fleece over as she reared up in surprise, and swiftly saluted his grizzled Pegasus Lieutenant who poked his blue-grey head from the door with a scowl at the loiterers. “Sorry Lieutenant Strato Clear. SIR! I was escorting Miss Fleece, I mean… it’s her first day. I suppose she has some jitters. Important Princess socks to make she has to… do…” Both he and Fleece blushed fiercely as they very deliberately looked away from each other.

Raising an eyebrow above a searching eye which bored into the two ponies, the old stallion quickly recognized the signs in their obvious demeanor and took great pains to force down the edges of his mouth which rebelliously threatened to turn upward. Strato huffed. “So she’s the replacement for old Pearl, eh? Ah, I’ll miss Pearl,” he reflected. “Should have asked her to join me for tea, or coffee and donuts when Joe’s first opened. Missed opportunities, all on account of being too afraid of myself looking silly.” Seeing the two youngsters eyeing him curiously, and Tawny’s face registering a mounting disbelief, he snorted and stomped his hoof with a shout. “Well what are you doing dallying out here for!? You both have duties for the Princesses to perform! Hop to it, Sergeant!” He flung open the gates and the two ponies, whinnying with the umbrella tottering in Tawny’s magic, practically fled across the courtyard into the Castle.

Safely out of sight, Strato finally relented and permitted his wistful smile to show itself as he softly sighed after them, “Don’t let yourselves miss your opportunity, youngsters. You’ll realize too late when it’s gone.”

Tawny and Fleece panted inside the great hall, catching their breath for a moment while various other staff, nobles, and other important ponies scurried, strode, and stalked to their various appointments and tasks; most of them being oblivious to the pair.

“It was… good to meet you, Miss Fleece,” Tawny said stiffly at last. “Do you… need me to show you the way to the Princesses’ personal servant station?” There lay heavily an unexpected reluctance in his heart to part with her presence.

Fleece met his eyes again for a moment, then turned hers aside. “I… no. I was shown the way yesterday while the movers unloaded my belongings into the house.” That had been one of Tawny’s days off and he’d visited a friend across the city; no wonder he hadn’t seen her before now. “You should probably get to your station too. I… we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for being late… just on account of me being needy and timid,” she finished with a voice as soft as her name and strode away, looking back briefly before turning again and heading away in a brisk canter.

Tawny’s umbrella dipped toward the floor in his loosening magical grip, dribbling a small puddle onto the polished marble, which another maid noticed with sour annoyance and marched off immediately for a mop. As he watched the snowy mare trot away into the Castle, he felt what he could only describe as a vague notion of loss along with a much stronger sense of longing. And, though it would be most inconvenient to the Weather Team’s forecasts and his own scheduled rounds of the Castle grounds, he found himself desperately hoping that tomorrow morning would bring with it another helping of rain.

Author's Note:

This was initially going to be a single-chapter story. But I found there was so much more to tell when I began writing it out. There's a whole little world here, and I need to describe the parts important to the central characters' tale.

Comments ( 22 )

He had never seen her before though he’d dwelt in the same house and traversed the same path down Bridle Bit lane nearly every working day for the past three years after he’d completed Guard training and been appointed under Captain Armor’s command, rising quickly through the ranks thanks not only to his size and raw ability, but his performance under pressure and quick thinking in several dire circumstances.

That is one sentence. There are five instances of double spacing between words, and two places where there should be commas in order to break the run-on. All in all you have somewhat of a large issue with run-ons in this. There's good writing potential, but it needs a lot of polish.

8524857 It seems my copy paste deleted some of my commas and semi-colons between the different programs.

But what double-spacing are you referring too? I've checked, and there is only single-spacing. I think you're LOOKING for things to nitpick, and in this case are hallucinating what isn't there. I put it into Microsoft word and found no sign of double-spacing anywhere, save where it's supposed to be between sentences. I DID find double-spacing in places where I'd written edits on Fimfiction.. but only after copy-pasting into Word. It seems the formatting differences put extra spaces in the copy which don't actually show up on the website.

As for that particular sentence being 'run-on'... you've never read "Lord of the Rings", have you? I encounter sentences that long frequently in descriptive and historical paragraphs. It's used to supply minor background information while focusing on a single thought process. This sentence is only 4 lines long. In literature, that's hardly uncommon. I suggest you read more than the modern garbage written for people with a 4th grade reading level.

I wonder if you are as critical of your favorite stories, however. Shall I take a peek at that, hmm?

8498856 Apparently not, as it seems people are downvoting it.

Of course, this is mainly because I'm the one writing it. You see, this is why fan rating systems are utterly illegitimate. They are based on populism, obsessive fetishism, and biases rather than objective measures of quality.

It's why I haven't put my best work forward on this site, as I know it won't be appreciated. I've seen far too many fantastic stories on here go practically ignored while grimdark NMM garbage and idiotic cross-overs, often written so poorly they'd fail a college literature course, are praised by thousands by the feeble-minded sycophants now making up the majority of the remaining fans.

This fandom is dying anyway, and I'll only finish this story when I have time, as I rather like the simple romance I've built with these original little characters. I have my own work to write, and little enough time for that. Those works will be mine entirely, rather than derivatives I can't claim ownership over.

8526122

Tolkien's work is a product of time, and an impressive one. I have actually read the entire book series, the Hobbit as well. However, culture and methods change over time--we don't all go around speaking like Shakespeare, now do we?

Stephen King is a particular favorite of mine, and he often goes off on long, run-on tangents. However, he executes them properly and in a method that is stylistically fitting to the narrative.

You generally have a good command of sentence structure.

8526415 And so, according to classic literature, what I wrote is not run-on. It starts a single thought and follows it to completion while adding relevant details which reflect upon the character's experiences and background as related to the topic.

It's only 4 lines. That's hardly a run-on in any case.

8526915
Yeah, and according to classic literature, I'm going to hell because I'm gay.

8526988 Simply because modern readers cannot handle any thoughts longer than 144 characters does not make standard writing wrong.

8526132

It's why I haven't put my best work forward on this site, as I know it won't be appreciated. I've seen far too many fantastic stories on here go practically ignored while grimdark NMM garbage and idiotic cross-overs, often written so poorly they'd fail a college literature course, are praised by thousands by the feeble-minded sycophants now making up the majority of the remaining fans.

And lets not forget the whole plethora of the wonderful reworkings and creative reimaginings of syntax, grammar, and spelling we see brought forth!

And of course the beloved tales where mares are assaulted by Steel Rangers futa division, Futalestia, FutaLuna, FutaCadence, FutaManesix, an entire barracks of royal guards, polecats, poleaxes, axe deodorant cans, cans of spam, Brisbys entire rugby line up, Ralph Hayes Junior, and corn stalks that have been governmentally funded to achieve sapience.

Personally though, I would like to see your other works.

8557216 Ugh, I wasn't even getting into the clop fics, which are ALWAYS awful, no matter what the fandom!

Quality and Effort= A+
readers opinion and LOVE for the story= F

Public stories can be a masterful works of art and as good as the writer wants them to be, but that all can be flushed down the toilet if the readers have a general dislike of said story(s). If you want to keep writing any types of stories for the public at least make sure the readers can enjoy them. But if you can't take criticism you might as well write this in the diary under your bed and go back to listening to Green Day / Three days Grace.

I will admit though, this story is set up pretty good compared to most others I've read in my spare time.

8630555 I write for myself more than for 'readers', especially in a fanfiction genre in which monetization is pretty much impossible, since the rights are held by a large corporation.

Beside which, the best writers never aim for what fans want; they aim to deliver better than what the cleverest fans could ever imagine.

That's what the Pony Movie and the latest "Star Wars" movie utterly failed to do. :raritywink:

As Henry Ford is oft quoted/paraphrased as saying, "If I only gave my customers what they wanted, I'd have invented a better horse."

When the fans realize groveling over terrible romances and lazy cross-overs is a waste of time, then they'll have begun to mature enough to recognize good writing. And I don't even mean mine, I'm still an amateur who struggles and agonizes over every sentence. I'm talking about writers like Georg, Admiral Biscuit, Cold in Gardez, PresentPerfect, Monochromatic, and Aragon who churn out stories equivalent at times to the best works of fiction in history... yet they fail to achieve the recognition of pitiful fan wangst featuring the likes of emo vampire Twilight and cannibal Nightmare Moon.

To put it bluntly, I have too much pride in myself to deliberately sink down to that level and pander to the delights of idiots. I aim for quality while the rat race seems more obsessed with being first to the bottom.

I happen to like Coldplay and the Moody Blues.

I'm a little nervous, looking at your stories... Why do they have so many dislikes? I mean, they can't be that bad, right? ...Right?

9321739 Well, read them. They're not that long.

Though only 1 is 'finished' and that was a surprise trollfic. :raritywink:

I read this because I'm a huge fan of the song. The story is actually pretty good too I'm giving it a thumbs up.

10120556 You know, I forgot I starting writing this... :twilightblush:

10120687
You know, if you want to write another chapter I'd love to read it.

10120715 Well, I have a vacation coming up. If I think about it in April, maybe I'll actually finish this.

Nice story. I like it. Would like more please.

10140536 Been thinking about writing the two chapters I had in mind. I'll certainly have MUCH more time with everything shut down.

8526132
All he said was nice, Jesus h christ

10434784 Aww, are you trying to be my next 'special friend'? I'm touched!

As will you be... :pinkiecrazy:

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