//------------------------------// // The Beginning // Story: Silent Strings // by shadydragon //------------------------------// umm... well, this is my first serious story ever. so... yeah... its a tad daunting for me. thanks to Drunk Ragdoll for talking me into writing my OC's backstory and for the cover picture. ill also apologise now for my writing, i am not the best of authors and my punctuation kinda sucks. but i hope the ideas are there. oh yeah, and id love to hear feedback or pointers. anything as long as its productive If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. —Barry Lopez, in Crow and Weasel Being a bartender, I hear many 'a' story. Some of… joy, some of celebration… But some… well… some aren't very happy at all. I hear stories from all over the place. There are so many stories that they all kinda just… 'moosh' together. Though… there is one story that stands out. You're wondering why I just told you all this aren't you? Well… that mare that you asked me about playin’ that wonderful music over there in that lonely corner… hers is one of the most intriguing stories of them all. I couldn't possibly tell you about her without telling you her entire story. So… I’d better start at the beginning then shouldn't I?... Well let’s see... her parents were master instrument makers, Masters of strings. Though... at the start of the great equestrian war, what they were making weren't musical instruments, but instead, instruments of war. Her father was a strong Pegasus who worked in the forge while her mother was a unicorn who used her magic to sharpen and engrave all of the intricate details onto the weapons. It’s a real shame they put their profession to misuse, but someone had to do these jobs. Mr Strings was real cleaver too; he created a brace for pegasi to mount the weapons to their wings while they were flying. Anyway, about two years into the war Mrs Strings fell pregnant and on a cold winters’ evening a beautiful baby filly was brought into the world. She wasn't crying like normal foals though... no she was wide eyed and quiet... just curious about the world. So after much discussing and laughter they named her Silent, Silent Strings. The little Pegasus had some big blue eyes, a snow white coat and a turquoise mane. Her parents were so joyous of their new arrival. Her birth also had the added benefit that it boosted the morale in the camp and brightened all of the spirits of all who met the new born filly, the little tent becoming a hive of activity. For her first years, her mother cared for her and nursed her. The bubbly little filly was amazed by this new world and she loved the care and affection her mother gave her. Unfortunately when she was three her mother had to go back to her work of sharpening swords and knives and so had to leave the poor little filly at home in the tent. At first little Silent was sad that her mother had to go, but after about two weeks she was happy just to stay at home with her toys. She loved the little mouse that Mrs Strings made for her and she would play with Mrs Squeekers for hours on end. However… there is only so long a little filly can stay interested with one thing. She picked up one of her father's violins when she was four. The intricate patterns of the pine and the high quality varnish had caught her eye. It was a beautiful instrument, perfectly crafted in every detail... and forbidden by her father to be touched. But the soul crushing boredom that the four year old filly had endured being stuck all alone in that tent all her life had gotten the best of her. She hoisted up the instrument just as she'd seen her father do countless times before, pushing it up to her neck and supporting it with her left hoof. It was way too big for her though, she couldn't even reach the end, but that didn't stop her. She slid the humungous brace at the bottom of the bow over her hoof and held the bow up to the violin. It was so well made that even this clumsy little filly brought wonderful notes from it. Unfortunately for her, at that moment her father walked in and she was scolded for touching it, it was then stored out of her reach and she just started crying. The moment she picked up the violin it just seemed natural for her, and by taking away the violin it felt almost like her heart had been ripped out. She would have tried to get it back, but the tent didn't have enough room for the little filly to take off in. foals just starting to fly have to take off like gliders that the earth ponies and unicorns use. So instead of getting it back, she had to go back to her boring monotonous existence by herself, inside the tent. She first left the tent when she was six, which is an atrocious thing to do to a little Pegasus, a little foal should have been outside playing and getting used to flying, but her only interaction with the outside world was ponies that came to visit. Most foals can fly at the age of six but for little Silent, it was her first breath of fresh air, and because of the disuse, her wings had become weak. The best she could do was create a small draft. Silent had had enough of the boredom and started nagging her parents for a violin. They finally gave in and when they finally had the time to spare they crafted her a wonderful instrument. One to the same standard that her father’s was made, with the intricate patterns and the perfectly shaped pine body, the bow was specially made for her with the brace created especially for her hoof. It was one of the happiest moments in her short little life. By the age of eight she was somewhat of a master. Having nothing better to do with her time, all she did was practice. No one even had to teach her anything, it was all self-taught and the soldiers and the civilians in the tents around her loved to hear the music that would pour from just out the front of the tent. She didn't leave the tent very much, she was so used to being inside that it felt weird for her to leave and she was afraid of what was out there. All the stories she could hear that the soldiers told of the outside world frightened her, all of the death and suffering. For her, there was no reason to leave the tent. Even though she had nothing to do, she was warm, safe, she was fed and she had her violin, What else could she possibly need? When she turned ten her parents put her into a combat training school in the camp. She was measured up for armour and a wing weapon brace. She hated it, she absolutely hated the weight of the armour, and her wings, even though they were much stronger couldn't support the brace. She was still a weak flier but it wasn't from lack of trying. So the teacher decided to teach her close quarters combat with a blade. The weeks and months of training went by and she was slowly getting better as a flyer and as a fighter. She still couldn't hold the wing brace but she could now do basic aeronautical combat manoeuvres. But as soon as the training was over, she would run straight back to the tent to play her violin. Trying to forget the terrible reasons she was learning how to fight so that she could drift into the musical land that was her own. When she turned 14, her teacher turned up the training a notch, and started training with hay mannequins. she couldn't bring herself to stab them, even though she knew they were fake, she couldn't help herself imagining the hay dummies as real ponies just like her and the idea that the other ponies in the camp can do it without losing any sleep over it made her physically sick. So she refused their training, and ran back to her tent. A few more weeks went by and the instructor was getting impatient he had stopped being caring and started ordering her around to do what he wanted. He would order her to attack the hay mannequin, and even though she would try, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She would run up to it, about to make the blow and… just… stop. So… To make it easier for her, the instructor chose to put the mannequin on the ground. He then told her to stand over it and hold the knife to its throat as if about to take the final cut. Her heart dropped, she couldn't, she wouldn’t. “DO IT!!!” he yelled, causing tears to well up inside her. He was standing over her, his frame towering over her own. Fighting back the tears she turned to the instructor. dropping the knife from her mouth, she said softly “no… I won’t” and turned to go back to her tent. She would have been able to, if only the door wasn’t blocked by the body of the instructor. She tried to push him out of the way, but her tiny frame was nowhere near heavy enough. She would have flown over him were they not inside a tent. His denial was making her angry and the tears of frustration started to escape as she tried to buck him to get out of the way. with nothing working, she collapsed onto the ground in a pile of sweat and tears. The instructor slowly walked over to her, leaned over and whispered softly into her ear “only weak ponies cry”. Suddenly, all of that frustration turned to rage and hate. She flared her nostrils and her pupils became miniscule as her body filled with adrenaline. Jumping to her feet she flew at top speed over to where she had dropped the knife, dropping to the ground and skidding a full 180 degrees before picking up the blade and started pawing at the ground, much like bulls do when they are about to charge, waiting for her teachers next move. “Hmm? What’s this? The little foal suddenly wants to be tough does she?” he said as he pranced around in front of the entrance imitating a ballerina pony, expecting to get no reaction. Of course, he was taken aback when that timid little filly ran at him with full force. He barely had time to turn around and grab a blade of his own before she attacked. The connecting blades sending sparks everywhere, the strength of this young one was astonishing. Pulling back, she lashed out again, trying to get at the left side of his body. The stallion spun the knife around in his mouth, just in time to block the incoming weapon. Seeing an opportunity, Silent keeps the stallion off balance and kicks out his feet from under him, causing him to fall to the ground. Victorious, she stands over him just like he wanted her to do to the mannequin, holding the blade to his neck and putting just enough pressure to draw blood. “okay, wow, that was… very interesting” said the instructor, still shocked at what this little pony had just unleashed. Coming back to her senses, her pupils grew back to their normal size. She was completely shocked at what she had just done and instantly regretted her actions. How could he have wanted to hurt anypony so badly? Easing the pressure of the knife, the stallion fought back, throwing Silent across the room, with his hoofs and his knife, cutting into her skin. She landed on the ground across the room, crimson liquid running down her cheek, staining her perfect white fur. The instructor picked himself off the ground shaking the dust off himself “Well done, you defeated me… however, letting your guard down without finishing off your prey is a BIG mistake” he said as blood seeped from the small wound on his neck, and with that he left the tent and left poor old Silent lying in a pool of her own blood, sobbing gently for only shadows to hear. Yea… things weren't too bright for young Silent. She didn't want to learn to fight, there was no care or affection from her parents anymore except for the occasional “I love you”, and now her fur was all soaked with blood. She had spent a whole half hour lying down crying to herself, trying to tell her inner voices that she was not weak and that she could have beat him had she tried harder. She got stares as she walked through the camp that night on her way to the stream to wash, but she didn't care, she didn't care about anything anymore, except for her violin. Stepping into the stream, all of the blood started to wash away. Her cheek was quite sore now and she could imagine that the people around her would be able to see the skin through the gash that that instructor had created. She had to use a nearby stick to chip away at all of the coagulated blood that was stuck to her. This was it for her, she was done with that blasted place and she was going to leave and never come back!! But that didn't happen did it? No she was still too afraid of what was on the outside of the camp to leave. but nothing, could be worse than what was to happen in the coming months.