Equestria - Ponyville - Sugarcube Corner - AL 4, December 18 - 09:25
Peace, a simple concept to be sure, was always in short supply for Ponyville. Whether it be chaotic intervention from the semi-divine enemies of Celestia and Luna or the exaggerated drama that always seemed to follow the town’s most well-known inhabitants, peace was a remarkably difficult commodity to come by in the small town in Equestria’s heartland. And so, it was no surprise that after a year and a half of complete and undisturbed peace, Ponyville was releasing a collective sigh of relief. No messages of grave importance or missions of danger and adventure had been delivered or undertaken. The most strenuous event the town had to deal with was the unfortunate maiming of a unicorn filly.
It should have come as no surprise then to the inhabitants of Ponyville that they completely missed one of the most momentous events to occur in Ponyville since the disappearance of Princess Celestia four years previously during the Summer Sun Celebration.
Nopony heard the light, almost ethereal chiming of bells and tinkling of crystal that carried on the cold December wind. Nopony except one.
Nopony noticed that at exactly the same moment every ear flicked involuntarily, and seemingly without anypony’s knowledge, toward the same distant point south of the Equestrian town.
Nopony saw the stunning white mare that suddenly appeared in the alleyway between the most famous bakery in Canterlot province and the home beside it, at least not immediately.
For some of Ponyville’s inhabitants, peace had just died a quiet, unnoticed death.
The mare stayed in the shadows between Sugarcube Corner and its adjacent home and observed the slow and methodical traffic of ponies trudging through cold and a light dusting of snow on the hard-packed earth of the town’s main boulevard. Here and there, the mare’s eyes would light up with recognition and a smile would grace her otherwise expressionless face. She searched through the crowds, searching for a few faces in particular. Her expression went from unreadable neutrality to one of indefinable emotion as she caught her actions and firmly pushed her thoughts away from what she knew would be a painful topic to examine.
The mare waited for the usual crowd that accompanied a market day to fully fill the boulevard and stepped out at the right moment to seamlessly join in the general trend of hooftraffic on the street. The mare slowly walked west in the direction of the towering oak tree that marked the center of the town’s western district. Occasionally, the mare would stop at a stall, careful that they were owned by ponies that would not recognize her, and examine their wares or comment about business to pass the time. To a fault, everypony was kind and respectful just as the mare remembered. It seemed the defining trait of any Ponyvillian was to always be pleasant.
When the mare tired of stopping to look at merchandise, she started toward the tree at a more brisk and mechanical pace. She’d not gone more than five paces before she heard something she never expected to hear - the sound of breathy, whispery humming. Unlike normal sound, this music seemed not to be carried on such a mundane medium as air, but on some incomprehensible but entirely there carrier. No other word could describe the subtle press against the mare’s mind and heart.
She stopped to look around for the source of the melody. Her head craned around and over the ponies that surrounded her on all sides until they were almost all blurred due to the speed of the mare’s head turning. Abruptly, the humming was accompanied by the light, measured clopping of a foal’s hooves and suddenly the mare could see the source of the low melody.
The mare could see that walking ahead of her a small white earth pony filly was trailing behind two of her friends - an orange-bodied-purple-maned pegasus filly and another earth pony filly with butter-yellow fur and a shockingly red mane. In contrast to her two friends who were enthusiastically laughing and making a game of walking up the road to the distant school, the white filly was walking mechanically and evenly. Her hoofsteps were perfectly in time with the melody of her humming and but were carried through the air rather than through it.
The mare listened for a few moments more and then started to hum along with the filly. Her humming was firm but not very loud compared to the younger pony’s. The mare’s humming carried over it as well. For a few moments, their combined music almost caused the air between them to shimmer but before the disturbance could manifest completely, the mare introduced discordant tones and beats into her humming.
The sudden jarring change caused the white filly to stumble and look around dazedly. The filly’s expression was as blank as the mares when the two locked eyes. Neither blinked or looked away, not when the filly’s friends asked her to hurry up nor when a stallion jostled the mare as he passed by on an errand. The mare consciously controlled the urge to widen her eyes in surprise. The filly was no earth pony; she was a unicorn. One who had lost her horn and still lived. The mare’s heart went out to the filly. To lose something so precious as her horn so early in life had to have been devastating.
The filly took a tentative step toward the mare and in response, the mare’s eyes changed from their blank facade to welcoming warmth. Another step and the mare smiled softly. The filly took the last few steps to the mare until at last she stood in front of her. She looked up at the mare’s face without a trace of fear or nervousness. She seemed content to wait and let the silence between the two grow until the mare decided to start their conversation.
“Hello...” The mare’s speech was accented oddly, almost as if it were a infused with the essence of other languages. It presented the white filly with something to latch onto rather than continue to stare silently.
“You... sound funny.” The filly said quietly.
“Yes, I would imagine I do. It has been many years since I have spoken heartland Equish.” The mare shuffled a bit and her movement revealed the lacquered wood and gleaming white metal of a magnificently crafted ebony woodwind instrument on her back. It immediately captured the filly’s eye.
“What instrument is that?” Her tone carried curiosity and hints of sadness that the mare picked up on and sympathized with. The mare had a flash of inspiration.
“It is an oboe. A gift from my brother.” She reverently pulled it from it’s case on her back and held it up, “Would you like me to play something for you?”
The filly nodded slowly. Her expression was still blank, but the ghost of a smile was playing at the edges of her mouth.
The mare thought for a moment and began to play a lively tune that bounced through it. Nopony around them heard the melody that came from the oboe, only the mare and filly that shared an extraordinary gift and terrible curse. The mare played until she felt that the song she’d played was at an end and slowly fell silent.
The filly’s eyes had closed during the performance. The music was too... profound... to be listened to with the distraction of the ponies around them. She had not seen that nopony else had heard the mare’s impromptu composition.
“That was nice. I’ve never heard that one before.” The filly said. Her earlier blank expression had disappeared and was replaced by a pleased smile.
“You would not have, I just invented it now.” The mare placed the oboe back on her back carefully and turned back to the filly, “You... have no instrument.”
The filly’s face fell and an expression of confused anguish crossed her face, “No. And I don’t know why but it hurts. More than anything.”
The mare nodded, “Soon. Soon you’ll have an instrument to call your own. I will be in town for a while... if you like, we can make one for you. Something simple. But when you have nothing, anything will do.”
The abrupt rhyme jostled the filly’s memory, “Are you Zebrican?”
The mare shook her head, “No, but that was a very good guess. I have lived in Zebrica for a long time now though. How did you guess?”
“One of my friends, Zecora, rhymes like you just did. She lives in the Everfree.” The filly’s ear twitched a moment before the loud, brassy sound of the school bell came from behind her. School had started and she was late - again.
The mare nodded in the direction of the school, “It seems it’s time for you to go. We can speak more later.” The mare turned to go but stopped when the filly called out to her.
“What’s your name?” The mare stopped, paused for a moment, and turned slowly. For a moment, the mare considered lying. A variety of emotions flickered across the mare’s face too quickly for the filly to follow as she deliberated. Finally, she sighed and decided to tell the truth. She would not finish in a lie. In the place where everything began she would end right.
The mare finally smiled, “G♭Δ7. But you can call me, Seeking Song. And your name?"
The filly cocked her head and wondered why the mare had said her name twice in the same sentence, “Um. Sweetie Belle. I’m Sweetie Belle.”
The mare bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement and Sweetie Belle turned to go. Seeking Song watched her go and reflected on the filly’s attitude in the face of what would have been strange to any other pony. She was definitely family. Perhaps not of flesh and blood or law and paper, but in gift and music and magic and curse. Seeking Song looked forward to speaking with the filly again.
She resumed her walk to the library with a lighter heart than when she had arrived. Something was finally looking up.