The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Scroll let out a relieved gasp as he set the barrel down with the others. He could carry a barrel of water just fine, but he’d carried up seven since he awoke that morning, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Still, he had a feeling of satisfaction as he looked up at the “FREE WATER” sign on the side of the building. It was a two-story building, built on the same spot as the old mission house, with two entrances – one for the main mission room and one for the tavern, plus one more door to function as an exit to the alleyway.

He looked up at the tavern. It had been about a month since Tap got the bright idea of combining both buildings. It was a fairly even set-up: one half of the building was the tavern, with the pub, tables, and selection of booze. Adjacent and connected by a door was the central mission room, where the collection of rowdy soldiers met once a week for a friendship meeting with himself and Brother White. Upstairs were the rooms where the inhabitants slept, along with extra bedrooms for whoever wanted room to stay.

A chorus of laughs poured through the door the soldiers filed out. Their once-shiny name badges were in various states of tarnish. Still, they came regularly and seemed to enjoy themselves. Furthermore, as they added to the mission’s membership, the Fraternity had started to send more supplies, including Scroll’s much-needed stoves. Brother White brought up the rear, with Clip at his hooves.

“Have a nice night, and remember, next week is charades!” White called. He stood there for a moment and took in a deep waft of air. A cheerful, slightly self-satisfied grin adorned his face.

“Good meeting?” asked Scroll.

“Very,” said White. “I think we’re really starting to win them over. They’ve even stopped calling me ‘horner.’” He rapped on the side of the water barrel. “And this is coming, too?”

Scroll nodded. “Yeah. We keep this up and we can take up a lot of the slack of Monarch’s machi...” He paused, trying to think of a better way to word it. “Monarch’s machine’s slack... no...”

“Hey, look, it’s the faggot jizz-water!” shouted a jeering, familiar voice. “Hey, you play games at your meetings? Do you play ‘see who can stick a dick furthest up your ass?’ That sounds like a faggy game to me.”

Scroll looked up the road and saw Buzz, sure enough, sneering at them from the street. White promptly drew a hoof to his face and drew Scroll’s eyes back to his own.

“I’m proud of you, Scroll,” said White. “I couldn’t... I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“What, you gonna kiss now?” Buzz sneered.

Clip stomped his foot. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Maybe they will! What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

“Clip,” said Scroll, “don’t bother.”

“You’re as gay as they are!” Buzz said.

“You’re gay!” Clip shouted back as he stomped up to him. “You’re gay and you don’t even know it!”

“Clip,” Scroll repeated.

“You’re totally a fag!” said Buzz. “You’re fucking pink and shit! I bet you–”

Buzz was cut off as Clip smacked him across the face with his right hoof. He reeled back, his face bearing a shocked expression.

“CLIP!” shouted White. Clip turned around as Buzz scurried off down the road. “Clip, go upstairs to your room.”

“But–”

“No buts,” said White. “You go up to your room and you don’t come out until I say so.”

Clip sat there, confused and a little disappointed. Not wanting to fixate on White’s expression, he meekly walked through the doorway back into the tavern.

White sighed.

“Don’t think that might be a little harsh?” asked Scroll.

“No, I just think I need to talk with him,” White explained. “We’re not grounding him, he just needs to understand.”

“Gotcha.” Scroll nodded. “I’m gonna head down to the docks. We should get some new books today, and that means...” He smiled.

“Library?”

“Library.”

Scroll trotted off with an additional bounce in his step. White stood on the side of the road and watched his companion. A pair of ponies walked over and grabbed one of the water barrels, not even grunting a “thank you” in appreciation.

Well, I think our ‘jizz-water’ is perfectly fine, thought White as he turned to the door of the tavern.

Inside the tavern was more or less the same business that had been going on since the first day they arrived. Lots of earth ponies smoking, drinking, and playing cards. White had to wonder whether the Fraternity would approve of the venue, with all its booze.

Granted, most ponies back home weren’t familiar with booze, so it was unlikely to be covered in any regulations. Still, part of White, while grateful for the innovative and helpful arrangements, couldn’t help but feel there was something amiss. Particularly when he saw Tap flirting with a bar patron.

“Hey, horner!” called a drunk. “Sing us somethin’!”

Whether they were mocking him or being genuinely friendly he couldn’t tell. He decided to grin and bear it as though it were the latter.

“Sorry, folks, I’m a bit busy at the moment!” he said as he trotted up the stairs.

Clip’s room was right next to the missionaries’ room at the end of the hall. White made his way to the door, knocked gently, and slowly opened it.

The room was sparsely decorated, mainly colored by a few crayon drawings on the wall. A small table next to a small bed had a few books stacked on it, including the Book of Friendship, but they were mostly the simple books children read that devote more page space to the pictures than the text. Other books and pages were pushed into the corner, the colt’s feeble pretension to cleaning his room.

Clip sulked on the bed, his chin resting on a pillow.

“May I come in?” White asked.

“Sure.”

White stepped inside and sat on the foot of the bed.

“Am I in trouble?” asked Clip.

“No,” said White. “You’re not in trouble, but I thought we should talk.”

Clip lifted his head and craned his neck to look at White. The unicorn was smiling gently.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“But he’s a jerk!” the colt protested. “He tried to kill you.”

“Yes,” White quietly admitted, “yes he did.”

“Well… don’t you want to hit him?”

“Clip,” said White. “If I did everything I wanted, I probably wouldn’t be a very good pony.”

Clip tilted his head.

“Look,” explained White. “If we’re lucky, then we should want things that are good for everyone. We want to see others happy because it makes us happy. We want those around us to be nice so that we can live nice lives.”

Clip nodded.

“But sometimes we want things that aren’t good. Sometimes we want to hurt other ponies because they make us mad or because we think they deserve it.”

“He wanted to hurt you,” said Clip. He blinked, puzzled. “You’re not going to do anything back?”

“No, I don’t think so.” White shook his head. “If Buzz or his father come to our mission, wishing for our friendship,” White said, “we will accept them like we’d accept any Brother. If not…” He smiled weakly. “Well, they’ll continue doing what they’re doing. And you know, I don’t think they’ll enjoy it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you feel good when you hit Buzz?” asked White.

“Yes,” said Clip.

“Do you feel good about it now?”

Clip thought about it for a minute. “A little.”

“Cliiiip?” asked White.

“Well...” Clip lowered his head. “Maybe not.”

White chuckled. “I don’t think any of the ponies here are really happy. I don’t think you can be happy when you’re always mean to other ponies.”

“So you’re gonna forgive Buzz?” asked Clip.

White nodded. “Yes. I believe that it’s best if we forgive those who’ve wronged us. That’s what friendship has taught me.”

“So... should I forgive him?”

“Well...” White laughed. “You don’t really have to forgive him if he hasn’t done anything to you. Well, apart from that insult.”

“Should I forgive Scroll? Should I...” Clip looked down. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Should I forgive the ponies who took away my wings?”

White was quiet for a minute. He bit his lip, parsing over the words in his mind. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes...” he said, a little more quietly. “Sometimes forgiving someone can be hard. I guess sometimes it can even hurt, too.”

Clip didn’t say anything. White was silent for a minute.

“I...” he said. “I can’t tell you how to feel. I haven’t had it as rough as you have. So, I honestly can’t say what I would or wouldn’t do in your place. But,” he continued, “I think you should forgive Brother Scroll. I know he hurt you, but he's sorry. He cares about you and he wants to help you. He can't do that if you shut him out. He's just trying to do what all of us are trying to do.” Clip looked up over at White.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“We do the best we can with what you're given. And sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we do something wrong."

“I guess,” said Clip. He sat up, sighed, and looked at White. “Am I still in trouble?” he asked.

White chuckled. “Nah.” He hopped off the bed. “I’m gonna wait for Scroll and see if more books arrived.”

He left for the door, with Clip trotting after him.

___________

There was a satisfying crack as Scroll pried the lid off of the chest. Inside was a veritable miniature library of books. Clip peered over the edge of the chest, his eyes scanning back and forth across a parade of titles that were mostly meaningless to him.

White, Barrel, and Tap all stood off to the side of the room. They were in the missionary meeting room, where the rag-tag congregation met for weekly friendship gatherings. Tap had a smile on her face as she watched Scroll sort through the other books, his eyes pouring over every title like a foal on Hearth’s Warming opening his presents.

Scroll dipped his head in and slowly slid one book out in his mouth.

“What’s that?” Clip asked.

“This...” Scroll laid the book down. On the cover and spine, in gold letters, were the words The Bridge to the End. “This is a book my parents read to me as a foal. I remember I grabbed it off the bookshelf pretty much at random.” He smiled at the recollection. “I opened it and I was confused about why it didn’t have any pictures. But mom and dad offered to read it to me.”

Clip cautiously reached a hoof over and opened it. Scroll was right: it didn’t have any pictures.

“I don’t think I could read this,” he admitted.

“Well, I could read it to you,” Scroll offered.

Clip’s hoof froze over the book. He bit his lip, unsure. “I don’t know...” he said.

“Well, it’s okay,” Scroll said as he turned to the rest of the group. “Okay, I think we can fit all these on the bookshelf. Barrel, could you give me a hoof?”

“Sure,” said Barrel as he nodded his head and stepped forward.

“We’re gonna need more shelves,” said Tap.

“Wish I had a carpentry cutie mark...” said White. Then his ears pricked up and he got an idea. “Wait, what about Carpenter?”

Tap looked at him with the expression of one who heard the dumbest suggestion ever. “The guy who tried to lynch you?”

“Yeah,” said White. “I mean, well...” He blinked, realizing the error of his idea. “Well... he’s got something we’d like. And it might be a way to patch things up with him...” He looked at Tap. The mare wore a dubious expression, as though she were the inner voice in his head telling him it was a bad idea. White sighed. “Still, it just seems like the right thing to do.”

“Well, do it if you like. Just as long as you don’t get yourself killed.” Tap shrugged. “Scroll thinks we should try getting a new structure for the library if we keep getting books.”

“He does?” asked White. “Never told me that.”

“Well, you’re not always in the same room as us,” said Tap with a wink.

White blinked for a few seconds. “Uh, well,” he said. Then he righted himself. “Actually, on the subject of... building arrangements, there’s something I should probably talk with you?”

“Oh?”

“Er...” White looked at Tap, Scroll, and Barrel, who were hard at work setting the books on the shelf. Clip couldn’t haul the books up himself, so he scurried back and forth from the chest, carrying the books from the chest and giving them over to one of the other two. “Could we talk about it alone?” he asked. Tap nodded and went through the door, into the main tavern. It was mostly empty at this point in the day, with most of the ponies off doing their own jobs, save for Bottle Top, who was asleep in the corner as usual. Tap stopped and turned around to lean on the counter, her mouth shut but ready come up with a snappy response to whatever White was about to say.

“Okay,” said White. His speech was slow and deliberate, as though he were stalling for time so his brain could catch up with his mouth. He reached out a hoof and drew a stool over next to him, though he did not sit. “You see, this mission, well, the Fraternity, really, is supposed to be a very family-friendly thing.”

“Uh-huh?” Tap intoned.

“Well, and you see, it’s hard to reconcile, the, uh...” White stammered. “The proceedings that we try to carry on with the congregation and the, uh, other things in this building...”

“The rowdy drunks?” asked Tap. “You know, your ‘congregation’ consists largely of rowdy soldiers who tend to go right along with that.”

“Well...” White rubbed the back of his neck with his free hoof while leaning on the stool with his other. “There’s not just that, there’s the... other things, that you also do, in this building–”

“Oh yeah, that,” Tap said. “I don’t really think the soldiers have a problem with me giving blowjobs upstairs.”

“Uh–” White sputtered.

“Actually, they get in on that, too.”

White slipped and fell off of the stool. Tap bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh. “You okay there?” she asked.

He pulled himself back off the ground and straightened his tie. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Well, it’s just a matter of, well, keeping things in the standards, I mean, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but, well, maybe we could try to, uh, get the arrangements so that...”

“I set up a Sex Hut down the street?” Tap asked dryly.

There was a moment of silence as White blinked, breathed, and looked back and forth around the room.

“Well...” he said. “I guess that does sound kinda dumb when you say it out loud...”

“I could... bribe you,” she suggested with a subtle smile and lowered eyelids.

“Yes, you–” White nodded. Suddenly his head jerked to a stop and his eyes widened. “What?”

“Sure,” Tap said as she slowly walked up to him, her rear swaying. “I mean, we can patch it up all real nice, and the Fraternity doesn’t need to know.” She stood before him, her eyelids fluttering. “I’ve never had a unicorn before, and you are handsome.”

“Uh-uh-uhh...” White stammered. “...had...?” He squeaked.

Tap giggled. “Oh, just teasing you.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek before heading off to the other room to help the others with the books, leaving Brother White to puzzle over it. When his thoughts righted themselves he found himself nearly alone, with the only other ponies in the tavern being a trio of card-players and the sleeping bum.

He looked to the door and decided to pay a visit to someone who hated him.

___________

The building was not in any way particularly different than any other building in the town. They were all built with function in mind, rather than style. The only distinguishing features of the shop were the wooden chairs out front and a large sign hanging from the edge of the roof that read: Carpenter & Son’s.

Most ponies would agree that it was foolish for White to go. Brother White politely disagreed and stepped through the front door.

Carpenter had made no effort to make his shop at all inviting. There were few windows and at this time of day the sunlight didn’t illuminate the room as well as it should. Sawdust littered the floor and finished wares were stashed off on the side. Many shops in Equestria were bright and lively, as if to say “I’m so glad you came! By all means, feel free to window shop! Then you can buy more stuff than you thought you would! And come back soon!” This shop, however, seemed not to care who came, as if to say “buy your wooden crap and go.” No bell had signaled White’s entrance, though the door was so creaky that a bell would’ve been completely unnecessary. Still, nopony came to greet him.

White wasn’t one to stand around awkwardly in an empty room, so he made himself comfortable, walking around the room and admiring the owner’s work. Carpenter certainly fit his name. Shelves, tables, and chairs lined the walls of the house. He wondered briefly where the stallion got all the wood he needed for that, but he supposed a pony had ways of making ends meet. Maybe he owns a stake in the forest, he mused. But this will do, he decided. This will do wonderfully.

The door creaked open again. White turned and saw a familiar, scowling face.

“What are you doing here?” asked Carpenter. “What do you want?”

“Well,” said White as he propped himself up and prepared to deliver his request, complete with his beaming smile. “I–”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” asked Carpenter. White’s expression changed to something more serious.

“No, I get it,” said White. “I just don’t care. I’m just here, as a customer, to buy something.” His smile returned, slowly and cautiously.

Carpenter slowly walked up to him, his steps quiet but threatening as they clopped against the sawdust-covered floor. “Why should I sell anything to a faggoty horner who fucked my son?” he asked, his voice a smoldering growl.

White didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I didn’t do anything to your son. I swear I don’t know why he says that I did. I know that you hate me,” he said. “But please.” His voice was quiet. “I want a bookcase. My friend wants to build a library.”

Carpenter ignored and walked past him, before turning to face him. His face had not changed, and he looked like he was more than ready to shove the unicorn out of the shop.

“If it weren’t for the general, I would’ve killed you,” he said.

“I’m very grateful to the general for that...” said White. “And to my friends.”

“The whore, her useless fatass of a brother, the crippled shit-wing, and the other faggot.”

At that, White’s nice-guy demeanor gave way. “Don’t insult them!” he snapped. “Hate me all you like, but leave my friends out of it!” White stomped a hoof on the ground. “You know, maybe, juuuust maybe, if you paid attention to what your son did once in awhile you’d realize what he’s been up to, how terribly mannered he is. Maybe then you’d get that I didn’t do anything and he lied to you.”

“Fuck you!”

Carpenter marched up to the unicorn, his eyes blazing with indignant fury. “Look at this,” he said, a hoof pointed at his shoulder.

“I–”

“Look at it.”

White looked. There was an unsightly scar on Carpenter’s shoulder.

“I got this,” said Carpenter, “when a winger broke into my home. I shot him and got this protecting my home and my family. Look at this.” He raised his right hoof, showing a long scar, as though there had been a gash, running up the length of his leg. “I got this from making a table. My hoof slipped at it ran along the saw. I have some more like it. Want to see them?”

White didn’t say anything. His mouth almost opened a few times, but no words came out.

“This is what I get every day of my life. You come here and have the gall to tell me that I’m not good enough as a father to my son?” he asked. “Fuck you and the ship you sailed in on.”

White lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I–”

“Sorry for what?” Carpenter asked. “Sorry for being a privileged shit? You’ve never been sorry for a damn thing in your life.” He backed away. “Get out.”

White paused for a second before he turned to leave. His face was slightly downturned, disheartened that he could not persuade Carpenter of this one simple request. Without another word, he turned and walked, not looking back at the bitter glare of the other stallion. The door squeaked as much on the way out as it had on the way in.

He stood outside the door for a minute, and thought about what had just happened. White sighed and turned to walk back to the mission house, when he saw Clip sitting by the window.

“Clip!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“The others seemed to be doing okay,” said Clip. “So I came to see what you were doing.” He looked back in the window. “What are you gonna do?”

“Well...” sighed White. “We’ll have to get a bookshelf some other way.”

“Hmm...” Clip thought. “How about asking one of the soldiers to buy it? You could give them the money, and then they could come here, and he wouldn’t know?”

White smiled and ruffled Clip’s mane with his hoof, to the colt’s mild embarrassment.

“Good thinking,” said White. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the tavern before they wonder where we’ve gone off to.”

The two set back down the road, crowded as it was with cranky ponies doing jobs and errands. Clip followed closely behind White.

“White?”

“Yes, Clip?”

“Why would you want to deal with him?” asked Clip.

“Well, because he has something that we’d like to have,” said White. “We could try making our own bookcases,” he conceded, “but I think he’d do it better.”

“But he’s a bad pony.”

The two stopped. White turned around and knelt down in front of Clip.

“Clip,” said White. “I don’t think I could say who is or isn’t a bad pony. I think that Carpenter has done some bad things. Mainly to me. But that isn’t what’s important.”

“Forgiveness?” asked Clip.

“Well,” White chuckled. “Not exactly what I was thinking about. But that works.”

___________

White peered into the mirror at his teeth. As usual, he had impeccable dental health, the reward of years’ worth of diligent brushing. The bathroom was nothing spectacular, but it would do. He had to share his bathroom downstairs with the usual patrons, and there was no shower stall. As such, he had to substitute showers for bubble baths. Not the preferred choice, but better than nothing. Hopefully they would be able to work something out soon.

He headed upstairs, away from the quieting but still-active crowds, up to the bedrooms.

Scroll was already in the bedroom, fluffing up their pillows. White nodded politely to his partner and circled around the bed to his side and found that there was a book laying next to his pillow. He blinked in brief confusion.

“Scroll?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“What’s this?”

“What’s...” Scroll turned to look. “Oh! Well, I found that in with the books they sent me, and, well, I thought you might find it interesting.”

White peered over the volume. The cover depicted a very happy pair: a unicorn filly and colt. “Spells to Smile About?” he read.

Scroll grinned. “Well, I thought maybe it would have some stuff you could use,” he said. “I mean, given your cutie mark. I’ve given a look through, and I think maybe these spells could help out in spreading a little cheer around.”

White was a little cautious in his enthusiasm, but he lifted the cover. “Could’ve used something like this a while ago,” he mused.

“Better late than never?” Scroll asked with a weak smile and a shrug.

“True.”

White flipped through the pages. It was his special talent after all, though he had to admit the most he’d really used his magic for was for the occasional tooth-cleaning and a lot of controlling ponies’ mouths. But maybe his magic could cover things a little more broadly than simple dentistry.

One entry in the book caught his eye: Relaxing Giggles. As his eyes read through the description, he let out an amused “hmm...”

“‘Hmmm’?” asked Scroll, who was just about ready to tuck himself into bed.

“Thank you, Scroll,” said White, his face adorned with a mischievous grin. “I think I might’ve found something already.”

Scroll tilted his head curiously, wondering what the spell could be or why White seemed to have an almost worry-inducingly amused grin, but his concentration was dulled like an old spoon. He felt something thick and soft seeping into his head, as though a big fluffy pillow were pressed against his brain, and he felt... silly. Silly as though everything funny in the world had turned into an unending parade of cheerful comedy.

“Heh...” he uttered.

“Something...” White turned his head. “Funny?”

Scroll let out a small stream of more chortles before bursting into a soft but uncontrollable giggle. He fell back onto his back, a dopey grin all over his face.

“I guess I could tickle you but I don’t think I have to.” He looked over at his mission partner, now lying flat on his back. “Uhh... can you move?”

“Mmm... heheh...” Scroll apparently couldn’t, or at least he had no will to. “You’re funny...”

“No I’m not,” said White, feigning offended dignity. “There is not one funny bone,” he said, punctuating the each word with a wag of his hoof and a shake of his head, “in my body.”

Scroll’s stationary snickering continued. It took all of White’s acting experience to keep a straight face.

“Don’t you laugh!” White mock-scolded. “Do I look funny to you?”

Scroll clamped his mouth shut, but occasional snorts still forced their way through his mouth. White climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Scroll’s side of the bed, leaning over him with caricaturish scowl on his normally pleasant and sunny face.

“So?” asked White. He poked at Scroll’s belly with his hoof, which elicited snorts of laughter. “What’s so funny about me?”

“You have a smile on your butt.”

There was a knock on the door. White looked over and saw Clip standing in the doorway, a book laid on the floor before his hooves.

“Um...” said Clip. “Sorry if I’m stopping your playtime...”

“No, not at all,” said White, propping the slightly-addled Scroll up into a sitting position. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering...” Clip pawed at the floor. “I wanted to know if Scroll could read to me before bedtime.”

Scroll turned his head around. Clip didn’t look directly at him; his head was downcast, his eyes passing back and forth between the book and the missionary.

“Why, yes,” Scroll said. He shook his head as he tried to snap himself out of White’s magic-induced stupor. “Just head off to bed and give me a minute.”

“Okay,” said Clip, and he picked up the book in his mouth and walked off to his room.

White patted him on the back. “You good?”

“I think so,” said Scroll. “We’ll have to try that again.”

White chuckled. “Think you can walk?”

“Yeah, yeah...” said Scroll as he tried to orient himself. “Still just a bit woozy.”

“Well, c’mon. Don’t leave the kid waiting. I think it took him a lot to ask you to do that.”

Scroll got up from the bed and walked down the corridor. By the time he got to Clip’s room, the colt had tucked himself into bed with the book laying on the side of the bedclothes. Scroll sat down beside the bed, opened the book, and began to read.

“There are reasons that bridges are specifically built over things, rather than beneath or next to them...”

Comments

[An Unimpressive]

It amuses me how impatient you are with these.

[Cloudhammer]

Another great chapter Billy, really looking forward to where this ends up

[TS9644]

Ambiguously gay indeed!

[Krass McWriter]

Still loving the fuck out of this.

[Happy Thoughts]

Fantastic story!

MOAR!!!

[Xuncu]

Mmm, dat innuendo. Hopefuly, someone will make a fanart of them making out.

[i_am_the_jam]

How many years after Luna's return does this happen?

[BillyColt]

1350053
I've deliberately decided not to define the timeframe. It might be four or five years after Luna's return. It might be a hundred.

[Several Alpacas]

it might be FABULOUSSSSS~~~~~~~~~~