//------------------------------// // Chapter 10 – Santa Hooves Is Coming to Town // Story: Merry Chestnuts and a Happy New Fleur // by Prane //------------------------------// The curtain swooshed to the side, revealing Rarity under a plain, hooded attire. Fleur, Chestnut and Sassy let out a collective ‘ooh?’, but Rarity, being in the zone, made them go quiet with but a stare. She was giving the utmost of her not insignificant acting, and her head was popping out from behind the sofas every now and then as she circled the room. “You say Santa Hooves isn’t real, but I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. The story I’m about to share comes from the streets of this very city, your Canterlot, so one would think that every daughter of this magnificent Jewel of Equestria would treasure it in her heart. But, as it appears, some of you have forgotten…” Sassy leaned over Fleur’s ear. “You’re Prench, Chestnut’s Tramplevanian, I’m from Trottingham. How are we daughters of Canterlot again?” “Bien vu, she has more Canterlot in her than most Canterlotians do,” Fleur whispered back. Rarity appeared right over their heads. “Legend has it, the original Santa Hooves was a wealthy but utmost buffoon-y stallion who owned the land and riches it hid. He was a ruthless entrepreneur and cared for nothing but making more bits every day… nothing, except maybe his only son whom he loved even above his gold. The boy was his reason for pursuing wealth, in fact, as the stallion had known the bitter life of the poor long before he tasted that of the rich. And so, he desired to always be able to afford what he could never have himself. He wanted to make him happy.” “Sounds like one of the good guys,” Chestnut said, looking up to the other mares. “I guess?” “Debatable. Securing one pony’s future by extorting hundreds others is hardly a noble way to go,” Sassy commented. “The needs of the many and so forth.” “I don’t know, Sassy.” Fleur shook her head. “A parent can go to great lengths for their child.” Rarity trotted around the room, weaving the tale further. Her voice became somber. “One winter, a mysterious plague fell upon the city. It claimed the lives of many ponies and cared not for social stratum nor wealth. It could just as well reach out with its icy fingers for a poor beggar in the streets, as for a sumptuous noble warming himself at a fireplace. No one was safer than the rest: not earth ponies, pegasi, or unicorns, neither mares nor stallions… and not even children.” Fleur instinctively wrapped her foreleg around Chestnut. When Rarity wanted to be ominous, she was ominous. “Eventually, the plague released the city from its grasp, but not before claiming one more innocent life,” Rarity said, looking over her audience as they whispered the inevitable. “Yes. The young colt was indeed the one. On Hearth’s Warming Eve, the stallion cried at his son’s bed, surrounded by all the wonderful toys he’d bought him over the years, and the riches he’d gathered for him. He cried, and he cursed his wealth for being so useless.” Sassy joined the embrace. Now all three were locked in a secure hug, mesmerized by the storyteller who lay down on a sofa. “ ‘It’s only useless when it’s not used well, father,’ his son would reply between faint coughs. With the last of his strength, he raised his hoof and pointed to his toys. ‘I won’t be playing with those anymore, but there are other children in the city who don’t have their own... like you’ve never had when you were young. When I’m gone… could you please make them happy… as you made me?’ ” Tears stung Fleur’s eyes. Wasn’t that supposed to be a season of joy? She squeezed Chestnut even harder. Rarity got back to all fours. “The stallion wanted to honor his son’s wish, but he wasn’t, shall we say, too popular with the common folk. He was afraid that they would not believe his intentions had he just waltzed into the city bearing gifts, and accuse him of trying to cash-in on the aftermath of the plague. He thought of a clever disguise so that no one could recognize him, and eventually made effort to not be seen at all. Eventually, he became… Santa Hooves,” Rarity concluded, shrugging the boring coverings off her back. Through the spectacular power of fashion, she too became Santa Hooves. Considering the mere minutes she had, she’d unquestionably outdone herself. Her ensemble sported a red cloak on her back with fur trimmings, a classical matching hat with a big round tassel, and a black belt with aureate buckle around her waist. Underneath the outer layer was a white, high-collared shirt, and a vest in the color of tree green. The final touch was a wooly scarf which posed for a convincing beard and completed the look. The audience cheered, and Rarity allowed for a moment of vanity. “Thank you, thank you! Now, the narrative ends here, but the story continues. The original Santa Hooves may be long gone, but his legend lives on. While we all, of course, buy each other presents to celebrate the memory of the gift-giving stallion as Equestria far and wide—or simply because it’s easier to say a mythical figure is spending our bits instead of us—we now circle back to our Canterlot where it all began. For you see, certain interesting occurrences took place here exactly six years ago, on a night much like this one. Ponies of all kinds discovered gifts under their beds and in their socks, gifts that came from neither their families nor friends.” “Then who were they from?” Chestnut asked. “It’s a mystery,” Sassy said. “I heard the rumors Santa Rarity is talking about. The presents always have proper name tags, but it’s impossible to tell who sent them or how did they manage to place them inside. It’s almost as if they were appearing out of thin air when no one’s looking.” “A teleportation spell,” Fleur proposed. “A skilled unicorn glancing through a window could achieve that.” “Perhaps, but those mysterious gifts are quite accurate,” Rarity pointed out, “and you can only receive it once. Two of my customers—sisters, though you’d never tell—Sunshine Smiles and Moonlight Raven each claimed to have gotten one. They described them as well-thought-out and personal. Sadly, they didn’t want to tell me what exactly they got, but said the batteries weren’t included, and I believe you all see how unhelpful of a clue that was. It could mean any number of things!” “It must be someone who lives in Canterlot as no other city got ‘affected’, if you will,” Sassy said. “And every Hearth’s Warming, more witnesses pop up telling stories about a tall, cloaked figure galloping on rooftops, or riding in a sleigh drawn by a pair of celestial reindeer!” “Nonsense. They’re probably making it up,” Fleur replied skeptically. “Just think about it: even if there was someone out there pretending to be the next Santa Hooves, how could he possibly know everyone’s dream gift? The answer: he can’t. The only way those ponies received what they wanted is if they mentioned it to someone—their friends, their moms, husbands, neighbors, doesn’t matter—someone who took upon themselves making that wish come true. From there, all it takes is deft hooves and a touch of subtlety.” “And just like the stallion in the story, those super secret friends and neighbors probably want to stay anonyma… anomau.. they want to stay not named,” Chestnut said. “They keep it a secret, everyone thinks they got their presents from Santa Hooves and they are all happy because they feel special. Perhaps the next year they will be someone else’s Santa!” “Thus keeping the legend alive and the holiday cheer rolling,” Fleur said, content that the filly had come to the same conclusion. “Though I have to admit, I would prefer my gifts to be from trusted ponies I am acquainted with rather than having mysterious strangers stalk me, lurk around my house and eventually come in uninvited…” The boutique door opened. First came the cold, howling wind, then a whirl of snowflakes, and then—a mysterious stranger in the flesh. Everyone froze. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Hearth’s Warming!” the dark figure exclaimed, but a moment later came to the light with a handsome smile under his mustache. “Ladies.” “Fancy Pants! Please, do come in!” Rarity exclaimed. “Let me take your coat… your very classy coat. Genuine double weave wool, buttoned neck strap… Speck Fashions, how fitting. Not only did you adopt a thestral, you’re wearing Salient Speck’s garments too!” she said, but when the stallion gave a clueless look for an answer, she changed the course. “She’s a thestral designer, for your information. Doesn’t matter. I promise we are done talking about fashion for today.” She trotted to a pile of colorful boxes by the Hearth’s Warming tree. “The current topic is Santa Hooves and presents.” “Ah, how fitting! The original, or the mysterious renegade, I wonder?” “Both. In fact, you’re just in time for the big finale, so go ahead and take a seat!” “I do apologize for arriving at such a late hour, everyone. The representatives of the newly founded Houndrel Federation were eager to express their gratitude for how smoothly all the exodus formalities went.” He gave Sassy a friendly hug appropriate for the ponies classified as ‘my wife’s inner circle’, then laid quick kisses on both Fleur’s and Chestnut’s foreheads. “How was the auction, dear?” “You will be pleased to hear that I have done my part for Yakyakistan. Not for the first time, might I add, but this time Headmaster Ostwald didn’t have a chance to offer me a job as their new Prench teacher.” She tactfully omitted that she also bought a pair of crocheted earmuffs she didn’t know what to do with. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they named one of the labs after you,” he remarked. “How about you, Chestnut? Did you have fun with your little cook-off with Chef Garlic?” “Yeah! Everyone was so helpful and I’ve never seen a kitchen so big!” Chestnut replied gingerly. “There was a pony for everything: one for washing asparaguses, another for cutting them, one for… no, actually two for grilling them. The first one passed out when Mr. Garlic was judging my roastnuts.” She grabbed a bowl. “We saved some for you! They should be still good even if they’re cold. Come on, try some!” “You mentioned something about a pony passing out...?” Immediately, he received a swift punch in the ribs from his wife. “I mean, of course I’d love to try them,” he added, grabbing a single shard which he savored. Encouraged, he attacked a small pile that would soon disappear from the bowl. “Delicious! We really should try to get some more.” “Santa Rarity, we’re waiting!” Sassy moaned. “Where’s that big finale of yours? There are ponies here and they’ve all been nice for the last twelve months! Most of the time!” Leaning in over the table, she beckoned the others closer. “Psst, time to let you in on a secret. Rarity got a little something for each of us, courtesy of Carousel Enterprises. What she doesn’t know is that I got her a present from us as well. Since she is really into the whole Santa Hooves idea, let’s do a wall of silence on this one, okay?” “Then why tell us at all?” Fleur asked, seriously conflicted about Sassy’s clandestine aptitude. “Because we’re splitting the bill, duh?” she reminded and straightened up. “Sleeveless substitutes, could it be? Did Santa Rarity find something extra under the tree?” “She did,” came the unsure response. “And she finds herself quite bewildered by it.” Shimmering blue mist sent the presents flying to their respective addressees. “I bet it’s Santa Hooves!” Sassy cheered. “He must have heard that you’ve been a good, generous pony and thought that you should—” “Why do I get two?” Fleur quickly counted the boxes on the table. Five ponies, six presents. Two with her name on it. “Anyone missing theirs? Non? Come on, who is my secret Santa?” She grabbed the bigger package. “This one’s obviously from Ra—uh, Santa, who does his shopping at Carousel Enterprises. But this one’s different. Sassy, did you do it? I thought we’ve had an agreement,” she added with a frown. “Or... husband?” “It’s not me, I swear!” the mare replied. “Like we agreed: no presents for Hearth’s Warming but we’re treating each other to a spa after New Year’s.” “I’m afraid it’s not from me either,” Fancy Pants assured. “Had I gotten you a present, hypothetically, I would have stored it in a place where you never look, say the attic, and then hid it somewhere in the bedroom so you could stumble upon it later. Of course if that was the case, Chestnut here would confirm my story—she would be my likely accomplice if I had to choose a gift for you.” The filly threw her hooves in the air. “Dad! That was supposed to be a surprise!” “Interesting. I thought she’s been helping me,” Fleur replied, cupping her chin in wonder. “Mom! Seriously, you guys need to learn how to be stealthy,” Chestnut murmured. “But if none of us got it for you… then who did?” Rarity pointed at the tree. “I was using your gifts for decoration. They’ve been on display for perhaps a couple of days now. It would be easy for someone to notice there your name in the pile and drop a little something. Any secret admirers who might have been bothering you lately?” “None that I know of,” Fleur and Fancy Pants replied as one. Go happily married couples! There was only one way to find out. Fleur put Rarity’s gift aside—carefully, so that her friend wouldn’t think she valued it less—and ripped the wrapping to shreds. At first she thought she was holding a work of art in the shape of a flat brick. A book with fancy cover? No, a notebook, she realized when she found no title on either side, but one she had never seen before. She would have never thought they were actually a thing. In essence, the notebook had a dark, but pleasant shade of blue for its soft cover, but the whole thing was locked in silvered casing. It must have been only silvered, no one would pay for real silver… right? The casing was filigree from top to bottom, wired into tracery that was sturdier on the sides and along the back, and more delicate, intricate towards the middle. Flowers. Amazed, but also flattered, Fleur carefully removed the notebook from its casing. She had never before stopped to think about the scent of paper itself, yet her nose told her it was of the highest quality, worthy of a high society mare. Her hoof confirmed that suspicion. Premium product indeed, pages were smooth and blank, the insides had no lines nor squares, not even margins. Only endless sea of white which would not limit one’s desire to fill them. “Rad!” Chestnut broke the silence. “Marvelous,” Fancy Pants agreed. “This is by far the most exquisite notebook I have ever laid my eyes on,” Sassy whispered in awe. “It’s more than just that.” Fleur divined her gift’s purpose from a little padlock on the casing. “I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be used as a journal. Which would make it a most fitting present, because I’ve been thinking about setting one up, to be honest.” She carefully placed it back on the table. “It’s actually a perfect gift.” “Who else knew?” Rarity asked. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to find the well-wisher among your acquaintances.” “Only two ponies, I think. Fancy Pants knew, but if he’s telling it wasn’t him then I believe him. Second would be Doctor Sunlit Hugs from the Orphanarium—he actually proposed the idea to me. But he wouldn’t go as far as buying it,” Fleur chuckled at the ridiculous notion. “First, it would ruin his psychological ploy aimed at encouraging me to make it personal or something like that. Second”—she tapped at rich coverings—“he simply couldn’t afford it.” “Whatever extra bits he had, he was spending them on us,” Chestnut agreed. She hesitated for a moment, looking around the adults deep in their thoughts. “Okay, I’ll be the one to say it: Santa Hooves?” “If that’s the case, then we must know!” Sassy erupted. “Think, Fleur! You must have dropped it in a chat, casually steer onto the topic without even noticing, anything! Perhaps someone from the Elite? It would make sense for Santa Hooves to come from the Canterlot Elite, wouldn’t it?” “I suppose... but still, something doesn’t add up here...” Shaking her head, Fleur went to seek the answer by the window. Santa Hooves wasn’t real. It was just an Equestrian legend told for the sake of the kids, and a mere excuse for adults to give each other gifts. And even if he had been real, then she really didn’t know what she did to deserve special treatment. For a split second she thought she spotted a silhouette landing on the roof, but it was just a flag battered by the howling wind. A flag, like on a pirate ship. The idea felt somewhat familiar. She rested her hoof on the window, absent-mindedly drawing a shape of a ship. Flags, ships, pirates sailing across the inky sky... Fleur’s thoughts danced around a strange mare she couldn’t picture. A mare who straight asked her—in a dream, but still—what she would like to get for Hearth’s Warming, which was making her a plausible candidate. She remembered... she believed she remembered there was something off about that mare, like she didn’t match her pirate dream at all. She wasn’t any of her friends who were also present, so perhaps it really was Santa in disguise? But why the masquerade? Who could possibly be bored enough to go that extra mile? High and above on the sky, a silver discus shined between the receding frostbite clouds. Then it hit her. A notion so ridiculously absurd, yet so compelling all the same. There was only one pony she could think of that was mysterious, resourceful, and magically skilled enough to pull off such a number. A pony who, given choice, would be the first to use the nighttime to find out if someone was naughty or nice. And she most definitely lived in Canterlot—at its very heart, actually. “There’s... one more who knew. But you’re not going to believe me.”