//------------------------------// // 18. Hearth's Warming Passed // Story: The Substitute Librarian // by Georg //------------------------------// The Substitute Librarian Hearth’s Warming Passed Hearth’s Warming Day was a holiday for sleeping in. Ponyville did not seem to celebrate that option, or at least whoever was knocking at the library door was that kind of holiday agnostic. Then again, if Twilight Sparkle was on her way home early, it was a good idea to take whatever early warning he could get, so Emerald rolled off the couch with a blanket still over his back and stumbled toward the door. He could see the fireplace out of the corner of his eye as he plodded, looking cold and extinguished, and therefore another task he needed to jump on this morning once the door-knocker was dealt with. Unfortunately, that looked easier said than done. “Good Morning, Miranda.” Emerald leaned to one side, looking for perhaps a few other officers outside the library with shackles to really spoil his morning. Miranda Rights certainly did not appear any more joyous at her early morning visit than Emerald was to see her, since she had obviously not slept well or had a chance to tidy up before setting out on her morning pestersome duty. “I have a few questions,” said the rumpled chief of police bluntly. “Are they anything I’m legally required to answer?” responded Emerald out of reflex. “If not, have a good Day and goodbye.” He did not slam the door, because in his experience, nothing good ever came of slamming a door on a police officer, and besides, the poor mare looked pathetic. “I’m just asking for your cooperation,” continued Miranda as if she were gritting her teeth under the concealment of her stern expression. “You see, Trixie Lulamoon is still missing, and we received a communication from the palace asking about her.” “She’s not here,” said Emerald just as bluntly. He was getting sick and tired of being blamed for the blue braggart’s schemes, particularly when he had not even seen her since school. And the last time he had been in Ponyville. “If she was here, she’d be in the safest place possible for the town, so if you find her somewhere, I’d advise dropping her off and I’ll have her… sort books for her parole or something. Now is there anything else you want to say? Like an apology?” “Apologize?” Miranda Rights blinked several times. “For what?” “For insinuating that I’m hiding some sort of criminal in Twilight Sparkle’s library!” he thundered back. “For using me to interrogate one of my students last night! The wedding is off!” Emerald closed the door, then promptly opened it back up a crack and asked sweetly, “Would you like some cookies, Officer Rights? I’ve got some extras in the kitchen, and I’ll bring them right out.” “Er…” Miranda blinked again. “Yes.” “Great. Give me a moment to make up a plate.” He closed the door again, feeling the brisk tingle of the locking wards as they reengaged. With the library wards set, even the police chief would not be able to get into the library, or at least that was what Emerald would bet cash bits on. One key for the city kept at Town Hall was likely it. Twilight Sparkle did not seem to be one to make any extra keys if she was not required, or to spend one extra bit that could more appropriately go to purchasing a book or two, and Emerald would be willing to bet every bit he owned that Miranda Rights did not own a Tarsus Key to break through Twilight Sparkle’s wards, if it could. “Can’t believe I thought about marrying that mare,” mumbled Emerald through a yawn as he headed for the kitchenette. “Either of them. Shackles of Matrimony should be more metaphorical, and Til Death Do You Part shouldn’t involve your first overdue book. What’s this?” The table next to the fireplace where he had placed Santa Hooves’ cookies last night was bare, or at least bare of cookies. Instead, there were five small packages next to the empty plate, each addressed to an improbable recipient. Emerald shied away at first, then moved closer and nipped up the empty plate since he was going to need one anyway, and there was no need to find a clean one in Twilight Sparkle’s shelves if it was just going to get dirty with crumbs again. He quietly visited the depleted cookie stash in the kitchenette to refill the plate, then on his way back to the front door, stopped by the collection of presents to pick up one in particular. “Gotta be the tree somehow,” he muttered under his breath while headed back to the awaiting police officer. Once he managed to get the door open, he called out, “Happy Hearth’s Warming day, Officer Rights. Here you go, your gift and cookies. Which are also a gift. Except for Twilight’s plate, which we’ll need back.” He hesitated before ducking back into the library, because he had no idea what was in the gift either, and he had to know before going back inside. “If there’s a ring in there, it’s not mine,” he added quickly. “So Twilight Sparkle left me a gift?” asked the officer while unwrapping and folding the paper on the original creases. “Or is it from you?” Emerald shrugged while she extracted out a colorful sweater knit in a pattern of green pine trees and bright seasonal ribbons. “Maybe it’s from Santa Hooves. Later, ma’am.” There were more important things to worry about than who was leaving presents for him, at night, in a locked library. Breakfast, for one. And more fire to keep him from freezing. Shifting the blanket on his shoulders, Emerald put the last log on the coals of the fire and arranged the spark arrestor screen before turning to the table and the other four presents, three wrapped in colorful paper and one just a bunch of bananas with a tag that read ‘Librarian.’ “That would get me arrested for certain.” Taking the nametag off the bunch of bananas, Emerald picked up the rest of them before giving the odd fruit a second look. “It’s the middle of winter. Where did they find bananas? Who brought Twilight Sparkle a bunch of bananas? Even if Officer Rights has a spare key and let herself in last night, she’s not so blatantly tone-deaf. And nopony else could possibly have a key to the door.” His eyes slowly tracked to the fireplace, which was far too small for a mythical jolly fat reindeer, then he looked up to Derpy’s favorite skylight. “Ahh. Unicorn blind spot.” Most wards froze the locking mechanisms around a location, that is around what was being warded, much like a belt. Odds were that Twilight never even noticed the mailmare’s morning visits took place despite the library being locked. After a certain amount of shelf inspection, Emerald picked his climbing path and worked his way up to the top of the most promising bookshelf in the library. It was further up than he had gone before and he still could not reach the skylight, but he could see it from here, as well as the spring-loaded broken latch that kept it from staying closed when pressure was put on the glass pane from the outside. And now that he was up high enough, he could see a pegasus ‘nest’ on the outside of the upper ledge, with several blankets woven into a small resting spot right where the afternoon Sun would shine the warmest on a cold winter day. “Rainbow Dash,” said Emerald to himself. Stories from the townsponies had painted the weathermare’s numerous napping spot locations as near-legendary, and from several unique polychromatic tail hair strands tied into the blankets, she had obviously found a quiet and uninterruptible way to stay hidden and warm while loafing. It would be a pleasant spot for a certain substitute librarian to spend the afternoon also, except for the near-certainty of a dangerous fall inside the library or a questionable climb up the outside of the tree to access the spot from the defective skylight. Most certainly, Scootaloo had turned around and used his gift to buy the other gifts, then took that exact secret path to deliver them this morning, like a very small Santa Hooves. Then all Scootaloo needed to do was walk out the front door of the library since the active wards only blocked entry, not exit. “Twilight is going to be so miffed when she realizes she didn’t cover the skylights with her locking spell,” mused Emerald. “I wonder if I could fix that extendable resheving platform myself. It would probably reach high enough so I wouldn't have to climb… No, better not. Don’t want a librarian and a weatherpony angry at me too. The last thing I want is a napless angry Bearer who I have absolutely no chance of outrunning.” It took some cautious maneuvering to climb down to the floor again, which is to say it would have been terribly easy to get there in one step, but he didn’t want to break anything, particularly himself. He wanted to hurry because he had not opened his own present out of the collection Scootaloo had delivered. After all, he could only feign disinterest in the contents for so long, and once he had it open, he had to keep himself from squealing in joy. “Jellybeans!” It was rumored that Princess Luna’s secretive bat-winged guards went bonkers over mangos, and even moreso for a strange prickly-skinned fruit from the far south jungles, but that was a small shadow of Emerald’s love for the tiny sweet beans. If not restricted by his iron willpower, Emerald would have gladly put his nose down into the cardboard box and not come up for air until he was licking the bottom. As it was, he nipped up one mouthful of jellybeans before folding the cardboard top back over the contents and making a beeline for the librarian desk. The bottom drawer was lockable, so he tucked the rest of the box away while chewing, then headed for the kitchenette to put some distance between himself and temptation. “Operation Sloth is a go.” Emerald finished mixing up a fresh pitcher of wake-up juice from the concentrate in the pantry and poured himself a glass, then ignored the rest of the raw food he had tucked into the icebox a mere two days ago. Instead, the simple goal of spending the whole day reading in front of the fireplace was within his grasp. Of course, he would not be able to read far into that first book without opening up the desk and getting into that box of jellybeans. “Begone, temptress beans,” he murmured beneath his breath while walking back to the couch, since the fireplace had caught up with the chilly morning air, and the borrowed blanket was starting to make him sweat. Placing it back on the couch, Emerald brushed several long green hairs off the purple surface… Wait a minute Upon further examination, the purple couch blanket looked suspiciously like a particular star-embroidered cloak, and if the cloak was here, the owner could not be far away. That owner who the Ponyville police chief was searching for, and the unmistakable cloak Emerald was wearing over his back when he met Miranda this morning. It was worth some panic. On second thought, it was an unwarranted worry. All of yesterday went by without any of the many patrons reporting any wanted criminals in Twilight Sparkle’s book-packed bedroom, which they tromped through like their own home when not properly discouraged. Still, just in case, he took a trip up the ramp to peer into the quiet and quite unused bedspace before returning to the warm library fireplace. “Obviously, a false alarm,” he muttered to himself while setting up his reading nest for the day. “Chief Rights must think I’m a blithering idiot, or that I have Trixie stashed in the upstairs storeroo—” Getting up again, Emerald went upstairs and cracked open the door to the back storeroom, which opened with the faint tug of an unrenewed security spell, something that his best estimates guessed was cast just over a day ago. The room was somewhat larger than Emerald remembered, with the boxes relegated to packed shelves scattered around the walls, and a heart-shaped⁽*⁾ window shedding light over the cushions and blankets making a study nest the center of the floor. And the blue unicorn who was curled up in the middle of several books taking notes. (*) Literally, with each blood vessel and nerve path labeled. — The Great and Powerful Trixie looked up. Then she looked back down at the book she was studying and ignored him. Emerald backed out of the storeroom, or more correctly, the uninvited guest bedroom, and closed the door. “Didn’t see anything, can’t be blamed,” murmured Emerald as he headed downstairs. It did change his plans for the day. Trixie appeared contained for the moment, but if she had been in the room for a whole day without any food, the research monster would soon go foraging for her preferred sustenance. And with the chief of police lurking outside his door, that meant Slothday had turned into Chefday. The icebox-to-stove process for most Canterlot unicorns involved a call to the local servants or a visit to the most trendy restaurant. As much as Emerald liked to downplay his own cooking skills, he appreciated food too much to always wait for others to prepare it. With relatively little training from his home’s servants, he discovered sandwiches were easy, fruit salad practically a reflex, and cookies a dangerous rarity⁽¹⁾ that ate away at his resistance until the container was empty. Additional practice had expanded his skill, not anywhere near the level of a chef, but there was nothing preventing him from becoming a fry cook other than the need for a very large hairnet. (1) Cook knew that the House’s youngest son was vulnerable to her sweets, but it was her Mark, and she spoiled him over the years far too much for his own good, which Emerald’s waistline only proved. — Besides, Emerald needed something to distract himself from the partial box of jellybeans locked in the librarian’s desk. Food was an odd counter to food, but putting together a simple lunch for three present ponies kept him busy, and if there was a little food left over when he was done, it would fit in the ice box for Twilight Sparkle and her dragon servant when she returned tonight. So food for four, prepared with extra time to cut the crusts off Trixie’s peanut butter sandwiches and a few tidbits for Miranda Rights lurking around outside the library in the snow. “Cooking for three mares,” he muttered from around the knife hilt while peeling carrots. “Somehow, harem romances never mention this particular aspect of the relationship.” There was a knock at the front door, and since Emerald was waiting for the dried bell peppers to soak for the ratatouille, he decided a brief interruption was warranted. “Hello, Scootaloo.” Emerald looked around the snow-strewn town square, which looked empty, but he was fairly certain it contained at least one hungry unmarried policemare. “Sorry to bother you, Mister Emerald.” The young pegasus had snow crusted on her mane and the bright violet eyes of a child who had an active morning filled with youthful fun. It made something inside Emerald twinge with regret for his own youth spent with far too few snowball fights and many sledding opportunities missed. “But you’re cold and need a rest break before tearing around the town some more,” finished Emerald. “Tell you what. The library is out of wood, so can I get you to bring in enough logs from the outside woodpile to fill the rack? I’ll make you a plate for lunch, too. Oh, and Santa Hooves appears to have left you a present over by the fireplace. Only one log at a time!” he managed to call out as Scootaloo vanished around the side of the library tree. After all, Emerald knew what it was like to be that age once too. And young children probably should not be exposed to the harem fantasy resting patiently by the fireplace, so he quickly locked it and several other questionable books into the bottom drawer of the librarian desk and replaced them with a few age-appropriate books before Scootaloo appeared with her first log for the indoor fireplace supply. Instead of supervising the following trips, Emerald returned to the kitchenette for more cooking. It was all for the best, after all. He needed the practice and now he was cooking for four mares. Besides, he had already torn the wrapping on Scootaloo’s present just enough to see that it was a bottle of Lightning Rod brand gear oil. * * * Cooking in winter and keeping it healthy was a challenge. Everything that would normally be fresh had to be used dried or preserved. Admittedly, he could have gone for the easy bean soup route, but by the time he had all the beans correctly soaked, Twilight Sparkle would have returned and cooked his beans for good when she found Trixie upstairs. He liked to cook, just not as the subject. Given a generally spherical student of uniform density and provided with unexpected free time, how much food could be produced in a small kitchen? Well, that was never a question on any of his tests, but Emerald was trying his best to provide an answer. After all, if it was not cooked, the leftover raw ingredients he had purchased earlier would just sit in Twilight Sparkle’s icebox. Plus, Hearth’s Warming was a time to throw away diets and splurge. A complete bag of sugar had already been sacrificed in the direction of that particular goal, and there were several pages in Twight’s kitchen recipe book he had not even considered yet. In the main room, Scootaloo had curled up on the fireplace rug for a quick energy recharge, which let Emerald take his time with the oven. He did peek in on his sleeping houseguest occasionally, and caught a glimpse of a unique sweater-clad pony peeking through a library window in the process, so the young filly was well-supervised in her inactivity. On this rare occasion, coffee made for a good cooking companion. It was quiet, filled the air with a pleasant aroma, and gave a sharp kick to his tongue whenever Emerald considered breaking out in song. It was also the kind of gift that practically begged to be shared, because if he went through the entire percolator, Emerald was fairly sure he was going to burn a hole in his stomach lining. So once he had the ratatouille arranged in the baking pan for the first phase of the process, Emerald put together a cold platter with his peanut butter crackers and a steaming cup of plain coffee, braced himself, and took it to his un-guest upstairs. “Lunch will be served shortly, ma’am. Until then, I thought I’d whip you up a study snake. I mean snack.” Trixie pulled her attention away from the book with great reluctance, thought for a long moment, and said, “You didn’t take down your sign last time I was here.” “No, and I got in trouble for it, which you don’t care about.” Emerald sat the tray down nearby and watched the first few peanut butter crackers vanish. “How have you been using the bathroom for the last day without anypony noticing?” “Used Twinkle’s.” Trixie took a sip of coffee and blew across the ebon surface while Emerald looked around. There was an open door nearby which concealed a half-bath, just a sink and a toilet for the librarian’s bedroom use, or it would have been if the shared door was not latched so the storeroom had exclusive rights to it. “Was this here last time?” he asked. Trixie shrugged. “Probably. Didn’t look for it. What’s for lunch?” “And just why should I make you lunch?” asked Emerald in a momentary spat of peevishness. Trixie stopped what she was doing and placed the coffee cup down in order to focus her full attention on the library staff. It was a very sincere look, one that Emerald had not seen before, and it rattled him slightly. This was a different Trixie than he had known before, right down to the way she did not even put up the slightest complaint about drinking coffee without any sugar. “Trixie finally found information on an edge that will let me face Twilight Sparkle on an equal basis.” She tapped the dark book she had been examining, then scooted it a little closer to herself. “Trixie doesn’t know how Sparkle acquired it, but when I came into the library yesterday, it was sitting on her desk. So Trixie borrowed it.” “Mmph,” grunted Emerald as he turned for the storeroom door. “Don’t know, don’t care. I’ll bring lunch up when it’s done. Don’t come downstairs. Scootaloo is taking a nap in front of the fireplace and the chief of police is watching the library.” It was entirely unlike Trixie to pass over a line like that. She should have teased him about kissing strange policemares before he went downstairs, but it was possible her job out at the Rock City farm had mellowed her acidic tongue. It certainly had done wonders for her chubby flanks, because she had never looked so lean and muscular when at school. Still, in Ponyville, some questions really should be avoided if you are unprepared for the answers. Out of some instinct, Emerald took the remaining couch cushions and spread them out in the main room before returning to the kitchenette and his cooking projects. It seemed like an appropriate precaution, and was only borne out when Scootaloo came into the kitchen in order to watch when he was just about ready to slip the souffle out of the oven. The whole tree shook to a familiar impact just as he touched the oven door, and after a quick check of the kitchen clock, Emerald called out, “Good afternoon, Miss Doo. Would you like your scrambled egg and carrot sandwiches with or without cheese?” “Cheese, please.” “Me too,” chimed in Scootaloo. Since Emerald was in the middle of using the Prench pelle to scoop the souffle/pancake pan out of the oven, he was unable to respond right away without getting splinters in his tongue. Once the hot dish was taken care of, he put the paddle to one side and bent over the kitchen cabinet for the next immediate task while the kitchenette added one more observer in the form of the local mailmare. “Ah, there it is,” he added, coming out with the dish clamp to hold it still while cutting. “Twilight puts all her kitchen utensils in the back of the drawer.” “She doesn’t need them and Spike can just pick up the hot dish,” said Scootaloo. “Meh. Point taken.” It took little time to cut the souffle into pieces and begin applying mayo to the bread. Through great willpower and focus, Emerald had managed not to eat anything more than a few vegetable peels up to this point, but hot food at the end of his nose was proving harder to resist. Of course, having two hungry pegasi in the kitchen meant that by the time he put the used mayo spreader back in the sink to wash, ‘his’ egg sandwich vanished out the door with a clatter of small hooves en route to an afternoon of vigorous youthful exercise where the extra calories would burn off like a torch. “I think I’m going to starve to death while cooking,” mused Emerald. “What brings you to diet headquarters, Miss Doo? Mail isn’t being delivered today, I don’t think.” Derpy nodded around her bite of egg sandwich. “I got the book you ordered yesterday and forgot all about giving it to you.” “Because I brought over Miranda last night. My bad, I suppose.” Father had always said never apologize for the actions of others, but Emerald could see a sudden shift around her wing muscles in the same way a griffon would tense up right before an irate peck, so he had to add, “I’m sure she was just concerned about Dinky’s well-being, just like she’s hanging out around the library today to watch Scootaloo. It’s her job to care about the most defenseless ponies after all. Right?” The phrasing was a rhetorical trick to force an answer advantageous to your argument, but it only worked if your debate opponent actually said something. Derpy just kept on eating her egg sandwich until Emerald added, “I’m going to be a teacher. If I saw somepony hurting a child, I’d tell her. It’s not my job, it’s my responsibility.” “I’m a good mother,” she said through the last bite of her sandwich and with her eyes closed. “And I know that more than about any other pony,” said Emerald quickly before the conversation could take a darker path and encourage the tears he could see lurking at the corner of her eyes. “You’re raising a unicorn, so there are ponies who think you can’t do it. Nosy, pestersome ponies with long noses they like to stick into everypony’s business. Like the nattering mares in my neighborhood who could not believe my mother would lower herself to an earth pony child.” He patted his battered hat. “Part of the reason I wear this. If my family were pegasi and we lived in Cloudsdale, I’d probably wear a coat all the time.” “Or a parachute.” Derpy blinked several times and took a deep breath, although she picked up an oatmeal raisin cookie he pushed in front of her. She took two bites and stuck out her sticky tongue. “Too much nutmeg.” “Never can get that right.” Emerald took a cookie of his own and bit into it. “Thought I had it this time. Anyway, Miranda’s seen your house now, and she’s had a chance to talk to Dinky. Any reports she’s gotten from idiots will be cleared up from direct observation. Where’s the book?” Emerald did not think Derpy felt like talking about her issues because she left quite promptly after the delivery, although she gave him a sticky kiss on the cheek as she departed. It distracted him from opening the book and inspecting for a few moments worth of quiet contemplation. After all, she was single. Then again, presuming she had been traumatized by a unicorn before, and considering his family, he might as well pass out sticks of dynamite to the Cutie Mark Crusaders. It would do less damage. In any event, the new copy of Twerps had only been scuffed slightly by its passage through the skylight and other delivery travails, and he had work to do before heading back to Canterlot. It only took a quick peek to verify what was on the missing page in the library’s copy, even if it was only two lines, and Emerald rationalized tucking the brand new book into his saddlebags instead. “House Rosaceae. Huh. Never pictured an apple farmer that way, and it looks like she doesn’t want the attention either, so might as well keep it so she doesn’t get out the knife to do some editing. I paid for it, after all.” * * * Cooking provided an easy way for Emerald to pass the afternoon and relax because it combined his two favorite activities: eating and reading. Twilight’s cookbook helped him whip up some scones with dried blueberries and rhubarb bits, as well as a plate of kichel, although there was no way he could manage anything like Derpy’s rugelach pastries or the baklava that he had managed to taste before they were all gone. Another reason not to marry a good cook. I’d get all fat again. It was still later than he expected before a mussed Trixie poked her nose into the kitchenette and sniffed, then picked up one of the closest kichel for a more in-depth analysis. Since Emerald had requested that she stay in the guest bedroom, he had expected her to ignore his advice and come downstairs anyway, most probably in the midst of Scootaloo and Derpy’s visit, but the library was empty now, so maybe she had more common sense than he had thought. “Oh, good. You’re up.” It only took a few quick motions with the wooden pelle to slip the waiting ratatouille into the oven and adjust the heat. “Santa left you a present in the other room, if you want something to do while waiting for lunch to cook.” “Santa Hooves left me a present,” said Trixie in a perfect deadpan. She wandered out of the room, taking a scone with her, and returned several minutes later with the stack of blank notebooks which Emerald had expected from a previous examination of the present and some judicious holding-of-the-present-up-to-the-light-and-squinting. She didn’t say anything else while standing in the kitchenette and looking at her present, so Emerald filled in the conversational blank. “Don’t thank me. I was sleeping. Scootaloo gets all the credit.” It was a credit that he did not want to examine too closely while occupying his mind with putting together a salad for Trixie. At this time of year, bananas alone were worth more than the stack of bits he had given the young pegasus for a Hearth’s Warming present, and if she had one bit more to her name, Emerald would be willing to eat it. Besides, Scootaloo did not know about the blue bat in the library belfry, which narrowed the list of suspects down to Derpy, who was just as broke, or the oak tree, which was plain acorns all the way down. Or a certain reindeer. Maybe Santa Hooves had left the presents. It still did not explain the bananas, which reminded Emerald that he had left them out in the main room. Trixie had obviously found them first, because several were ‘empty.’ It did not seem appropriate to chastise his guest for consuming what he planned on turning into banana bread, particularly since she had been working so uncharacteristically hard on her mysterious studies. Since the ratatouille was cooking, he returned to the creation of lunch-based food products as a one-pony fry cook with the world’s most cynical non-paying customer. It made him feel better about ignoring the various puzzles that had popped up during his visit to the odd little town, since none of the weirdities were his responsibility, after all. Well, except Trixie, who was about as irresponsible as equinely possible, and he would probably be blamed as an accomplice for whatever she did. “You’re welcome,” said Emerald in the middle of making banana bread batter. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—” Trixie put down her fork with the last fragmentary leaf of expensive greenhouse-grown lettuce still clinging to it. “The Pie’s are picking me up at the train station this afternoon. I’ll be back in Rock City and out of your way so you can properly romance Twilight Sparkle.” “As if.” Emerald gave the batter one last stir and went looking in the pantry for a bread pan. “I’m half tempted to go with you instead of going back to Canterlot.” “That would go over so well with my employer,” said Trixie with a slight hint of the snark that Emerald had missed. There was little more conversation in the small kitchen as Trixie joined the cooking, mostly restricted to passing items back and forth while asking for opinions on nog contents. It made Emerald feel less like a co-conspirator and slightly like a brother, or at least what might pass for a Trixie sibling. He had learned several years ago when they first met not to ask about her family, much like she avoided talking about his unless she was lighting his fuse. Fruitcake cooking brought out more interaction, since the holiday ‘food’ had no end of humorous jokes involving the attempted eating thereof, and Emerald’s attempt at constructing one was inept to say the least. “Needs bourbon,” said Trixie, who had moved from assistance to supervisory comments from her chair at the table, as well as a small amount of product sampling. “So does the fruitcake,” muttered Emerald, jabbing at the mess in the bowl with a wooden spoon. “Speaking of which, how do you plan on dodging the police on your way to the train station?” “Hadn’t given it much thought.” Trixie swirled one last piece of leftover ratatouille around her plate, heaping it high with the leftover gooey cheese. There had been a slight misjudgement in the cheese purchasing process, leaving several multiples of the needed ingredient in several varieties as well as serious consideration for what to do with the unused portions. Probably don’t want to add cheese to the fruitcake. Most of the leftovers had been packed away in the icebox, enough calories to stun a dragon with cheese and carbohydrates to spare. From an examination of published train schedules, Twilight Sparkle was most likely coming into town on the same train that Trixie was leaving on, so she would walk into the library a few minutes after the both of them departed. Or at least if Trixie was not stopped and detained by the local police, in which case things would probably get far more uncomfortable. “I’ve got an idea that should give me some plausible deniability.” Emerald jammed the fruitcake batter into the pan, sprinkled the top with shelled pecans, and slammed it into the oven. “Remember that card trick you always could use to take me for ten bits?” * * * Late holiday afternoon with the general malaise that followed over-eating and socializing left the Ponyville streets fairly unoccupied. The scattered few who did go out into the snow included several young ponies building a snow fort and throwing snowballs at each other, although most of the adults were perfectly happy to sit inside with a cup of cocoa and watch the winter activity through a window like they did every year. Only this year, there was a slight disturbance in the regular routine when a pony wearing a familiar purple star-embroidered cloak and hat emerged from the library and promptly took off at a brisk gallop. After all, every pony in the town knew that particular clothing pattern and the giant stellar bear incident it had caused. The pony only managed to make it down several of the snow-covered paths before slowing to a trot, then stopping when a darker pony wearing a cheerful Hearth’s Warming sweater stepped in front of it. “Wait a moment,” said Miranda Rights. “Trixie?” Emerald pushed the purple pointed hat up higher on his head and smiled the happy grin of an innocent stallion just out for brisk exercise. “Miranda!” he exclaimed. “I’d love to stop and chat some more, but I’ve got the library spellkey which I really need to return before I go back to Canterlot, or the mayor is going to be miffed at me. Your lunch is in the library icebox and I’ll see you later!” “Wait!” Miranda Rights had the advantage of healthy living and a job that involved a lot of walking, but Emerald had a few moments of stunned confusion to get a head start, as well as the pursuit of an unmarried unicorn mare for incentive. He beat her to the town hall door by a few seconds. Unfortunately, the inner hallway of the town hall was a dead end, and when Emerald turned around from stuffing the library spellkey into the mayor’s office’s mail slot, Miranda Rights had the doorway blocked solid. Horn glowing at the first corona and panting slightly from her unexpected run, she locked eyes with Emerald and huffed, “Hold it right there, or I swear, I’ll drag you into the jail and stick you in the biggest freezer we have.” “Why?” Emerald shrugged through his panting. “I don’t have enough earth pony magic to sprout a bean seed, and my unicorn magic is limited to the theoretical, not the practical.” “Then I will send a letter to your mother,” said Miranda coldly. “Oh. Dirty pool!” Emerald sat down on the cold hallway tiles and breathed heavily. “Okay, officer. You got me. I’m all yours for whatever you want, in the non-matrimonial fashion.” He expected questions and prepared evasive answers, but all Miranda Rights did was stand there and just look at him. After a few minutes, the corona around her horn went out, and she stepped to one side. “You’re going to miss your train.” “You’re not going to ask me about Trixie?” Emerald considered the impassive look he got in response and added, “Oh, you know she took my brother’s coat and went to the train station while I distracted you.” Miranda nodded with a sly smile. “So far, there haven’t been any disasters when you’re here at the same time she is. The Crown only wanted to know where she was, and since I knew…” “Do I get paid for babysitting?” asked Emerald. Miranda’s flat expression was a fair response, although she shook her head also. “No, I guess not,” muttered Emerald. “Can I at least get you to apologize to Miss Doo? I know you don’t think you need to apologize,” he pressed. “You were just doing your job, looking into the welfare of a child who might be at risk, but you frightened both of them, and you lied to me by omission.” “Since I was doing my job, as you admitted, why should I apologize?” “Because pride is cheap and trust is expensive,” countered Emerald. “Spend some to get some. Be willing to bend a little or you’ll—” He bit off the line he wanted to use about her being an unmarried mare until she was old and grey, and decided to shake his own head instead. “Skip it. You betrayed my trust and terrified an innocent child for a good reason, I suppose. Your honor is intact.” That apparently had some bite, because Miranda winced ever so slightly. “It doesn’t sound very honorable when you put it that way.” Deciding to widen the wound instead of retreating, Emerald continued, “Try some trust instead. As a teacher, it is my responsibility to report any abuse to the local authorities. I was obviously approved by the highest authorities to watch Twilight Sparkle’s library. They trust me to do the right thing. And you did not.” “You have to earn trust. You can’t just buy it,” said Miranda, although she cast a look over one shoulder at the distant train station where he could see the anticipated arrival just pulling in. “Goodbye, m’lord. You don’t want to miss your train.” Emerald started walking, although he paused next to the policemare to give her a long look. “Four weeks,” he finally said, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, which Miranda obviously did not expect because she failed to dodge. “Why four weeks?” she asked, wiping her cheek with one hoof. “Because I’m faster than you on the straightaway.” And Emerald bolted in the direction of the train station just as fast as he could gallop. * * * There was always a degree of pushing and crowding on the train station loading platform, even on Hearth’s Warming day when some ponies were traveling back home after a long visit with relatives. That not to say said relatives were pushing the visitors into the train cars, or at least admitting to it, but many of the tears being shed would certainly turn into shouts of joy just as soon as the outgoing train huffed away. In a casual group of ponies standing fairly close to each other for warmth and breeze-blocking while waiting for the next train, one coat-clad individual stood out. Head bowed, hunched over, and scooting to use a nearby pony as a visual blocker did not help as much as it seemed when Miranda Rights stepped up right to one side and used her magic to lift the fur-lined coat hood away from the pony’s face. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could answer a few quest— Oh, no.” “Miranda! I have a question of my own!” Emerald lit up with a broad grin, then dropped down on one knee and waggled an eyebrow at her before lowering his voice to a near-whisper. “Can I get you to take your plate back to Twilight when she returns? She doesn’t have very many of them to spare.” “Yes.” Miranda Rights hesitated and blushed a dark red with her ears laid back as several ponies in the nearby crowd began to applaud the apparent proposal. “Now cut that out!” “Oh, you’ve made me the happiest stallion in Equestria!” Emerald jumped to his hooves, but only waggled an eyebrow again. “A hug will get me two Moons in the jail, won’t it?” “Three! Maybe four. Be serious for a minute.” Miranda frowned, or at least made a good attempt at it when Emerald put on his best sad face complete with trembling bottom lip. “Will you bring your prisoner of luurve meals night and day so I can admire you without end and spend my time composing poetry in honor of your beauty?” “I will bring you oatmeal,” said Miranda sternly. “A small bowl, with a stick of celery, three times a day until you reach a healthy weight. Now, I’ve got some questions, and I want answers.” “She’s on the train,” said Emerald, “I’m not serious about asking to marry you, and will there be at least a few small lumps of sugar in the prison oatmeal? I get peckish when my blood sugar drops.” The train took that moment to chuff forward, and was shortly well on the way to its next destination. For just a moment, Emerald thought he could see a line of frowning faces at the windows with Trixie’s familiar mug at the end, but there was no way those gloomy ponies could be Pinkie Pie’s family. Since he expected Pinkie’s family to be bringing her back to Ponyville from Canterlot, and there was also a lack of exiting perky pink party ponies on the train platform, Emerald began to think that maybe Trixie had given all of them the slip to somewhere else while he was distracting Miranda with his overacting. The ponies around them had begun to catch onto the humor of Emerald’s situation, although several of them seemed to recognize Miranda as a police officer, and they began to quietly wander away to the far end of the loading platform. The rest of them only caught on when Miranda produced her copper badge and announced, “Show’s over. Police business. Anypony who even breathes a hint of this to Pinkie Pie is going to regret it. Now give us some space.” In seconds, they were the only ponies on the train platform. Even the ticket seller had taken the opportunity for a break, and the door to her booth was still swinging. “I don’t see any of the Bearers, particularly Pinkie Pie,” said Emerald, looking around. “Wasn’t she on the train with her family?” “No,” said Miranda bluntly. “Look, I understand you wanting to ditch your family. If Pinkie ever catches you in town, the two of you can compare notes, and you’ll appreciate your own far more. It’s just… I’m trying to maintain order in the town—” “And I’m not helping.” Miranda put her face between her hooves and rubbed her cheeks. “It would help if you don’t flirt with me unless you’re serious. It makes it far more difficult to be in charge of my officers. Some of them were snickering at me today, but I pointed out how relatively calm this Hearth’s Warming was, and that helped.” “One Trixie, no bears. Win for Ponyville.” Emerald heaved a sigh. “Look, Officer Rights. This is probably my last visit to your town. I’ve got a full spring semester in Canterlot, and student teaching right after, probably in a larger town like Riverbend since there aren’t enough young unicorns here to make it worth hiring a full-time Unicorn Magic Youth Educational Specialist. I’ve even taken my name off the substitution list for your library because I’ll be so busy.” “Really?” Miranda looked up with some of the longer hairs on her face still rumbled and bent, much like the young mare had not slept in over a day. “I mean if I’m ever on the train passing by and you want me to stop for coffee—” he added, only to have Miranda place one hoof firmly over his mouth. “No. And if you lick the bottom of my hoof, three Moons in jail, with nothing to eat but grapefruit.” “Spoilsport,” admitted Emerald once the blocking hoof was removed. “I suppose that means a romantic note-writing—” “No,” said Miranda. “Flowers sent occasionally—” “No.” “A fruit basket?” Emerald considered the relative lack of immediate objection. “There’s a fruitcake cooling off in Twilight Sparkle’s oven. If you bring your plate back when she’s home, she might be able to chisel⁽*⁾ you off a chunk.” (*)Not likely. Spike wound up breaking a tooth on it. * * * Ponies began to filter back onto the train loading dock once Miranda was safely away, or at least had been seen to leave. Personally, Emerald felt fairly certain she was ensuring his departure by lurking in some nearby shadow, since Sun was quite nearly to the horizon and there were an abundance of unicorn-sized shadow candidates. The ticket booth was once again occupied, and Emerald took his place in line like the rest of the herd until it was his turn to buy a ticket. “One ticket and a pack of gum, please.” Emerald pointed at the limited concession area, but the ticket seller had already scooped up one packet and dropped it on the counter. The light-green packaging probably had not changed since Celestia stuck a glob of used gum under her desk in school, and he really was not sure why he had ordered it, but… “Where do you want the ticket for, mister?” It was not as simple a question as it seemed on the surface, even with the dangling participle. It took a long pause to consider all he had learned in this small town over just the last few days. What he had tried to teach Scootaloo was coming back to bite him, hard. There had certainly been several problems in town that he had contributed⁽¹⁾ to resolving with Regal’s tip money, but his own problems remained just as present as ever. (1)Thankfully, nopony ever found out how Scootaloo managed to afford ‘Cutie Mark Rocket Sled Crusaders, Yea!’ — “Manehattan,” he said at last. After all, his family was going to be there for a few more days and for the sake of Regal and his to-be bride, he could control his mouth for that long, at least. A mouthful of mint gum would help. His journey would be a Hearth’s Warming present for his whole family, past, present and future, including himself.