“Kind of a slow day, huh Rarity?” Sweetie Belle squeaked out.
Rarity sighed, toying with a pair of ribbon shears. It was true, she silently admitted, the shop had been completely devoid of any kind of visitation, and her bits register was painfully empty. “Yes, Sweetie Belle, it has been. Now, be a dear and go try and clean that absolute mess of a room for me, would you? I absolutely abhor trying to navigate through my own house and stumbling upon that travesty.” Pouting and muttering under her breath, Sweetie Belle slinked off in the opposite direction of her room.
Glancing out the windows of her beloved Boutique, Rarity sighed again. She supposed that there wasn’t any blame to be put on the pedestrians of Ponyville today. Rain was simply gushing down from dark, pregnant clouds, as if somepony had turned on a giant faucet in the sky and had been letting it run for the past few hours. All the flower beds and any pots unfortunate enough to be left out in the rain were absolutely waterlogged, with some of the flowers being uprooted and carried away in the downpour.
Poor Roseluck, Rarity mused. She must be having an awful time trying to save all of her plants and flowers from this torrent. Still, the Weather Team gave fair and ample warning that we were due for a major spring shower today, and they gave it weeks in advance. Rarity sighed again. I suppose that’s a fitting life metaphor. No matter how much warning it may give you, certain disasters are simply unavoidable.
“My, my, it’s as solemn as a dirge in here. And almost as quiet, too,” a soft voice chuckled. Startled out of here reverie, Rarity jumped up out of her seat, sending the pair of ribbon shears flying.
“I am so sorry!” the white mare apologized, blushing furiously. She was so caught up in her sentiments of pity that she had completely missed the bell ringing that announced the presence of a pony in her shop. “I simply must pay more attention in the future. I do apologize for that, darling. Now, what can Rarity do for you?”
As the question passed her lips, Rarity took the moment to fully appraise her customer. A stallion stood before her, fairly lean and muscular. If Rarity had to guess, the stallion was slightly too young to be classified as middle age, but it was apparent that he was older than she herself was. His coat was a delicious shade of golden brown that sparkled with raindrops. Each time he would shift his weight, the droplets would catch the light of the Boutique and throw of pearlescent rainbows across the walls. His crimson mane was tucked neatly under a silver scarf that adorned his neck, and was mostly sheltered from the torrential rain outside from a painstakingly-simple hat that sat loosely on his head. A single saddlebag was wrapped around his sturdy flank, though Rarity quickly averted her gaze from his lower half. His onyx eyes twinkled in amusement as Rarity’s apology came spewing forth, and his mouth cracked into a smile as he removed his hat with a deliberate hoof.
“I’m sure you meant me no disrespect, Miss Rarity,” the words flowed out of his mouth like silk, wrapping Rarity in a comforting aura. “Anypony can be forgiven for daydreaming. After all, it is not the ones dreaming at night that the world looks at in remembrance. It is the dreamers of the day, who dare to make their dreams a reality that influence us.” Another smile flitted across his face. “Ah, but do not drag me into such philosophical rhetoric, as it would be difficult to pull me out again, and I don’t want to talk your ears off.”
“Honestly, darling, I wouldn’t mind,” Rarity said, returning his warm smile. “Business has been so agonizingly slow today; it would be nice to have some company.”
“Well, I’m never one to deny the pleasure of company,” the stallion replied. “However, perhaps we can do it in tandem with a request?”
“But of course!” Rarity replied. “What can I do for you?”
The stallion twirled his hat around on his hoof for a second, revealing amateur patchwork and spots that were obviously worn down. “I was wondering if you could patch up my hat for me. I’m afraid that some of the seams have worn down, and it lets water in like crazy.” As soon as the request left his mouth, Rarity wrapped the hat in telekinesis and lifted it over to her workbench.
A thoughtful look overtook the seamstress’s face. “You know, instead of patching up this ratty old thing, I could easily make you a brand new hat. In fact, I could make you a matching ensemble! I could weave you a new scarf, and even make you a stylish new jacket to go along with it! All at no extra ch-“ Rarity twirled around, smile stretched across her face, only to have her words cut short with a very sad smile from the stallion.
“You said your name was Rarity, didn’t you?” the stallion asked softly. Rarity, taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, could only nod her head. “I’ve heard a lot about you, you know,” he continued, in his soft tone. “The Element of Generosity. The one pony who has to make a living on her wares, yet gives them away to anyone in need so readily and without hesitation, it makes people wonder if you really do live off of thread and needle.” A soft blush began to creep over Rarity’s face. They say things like that about me?
“Yes, you’ve been a huge inspiration to all, Miss Rarity,” the stallion continued. “But none more so than my wife.”
Some part of Rarity felt crestfallen. Admittedly, the stallion wasn’t royalty, or a high class pony (not that she knew of, anyway), but he was attractive, and Rarity couldn’t deny that she had a warm feeling growing within her ever since this stallion walked through the door.
“Yes, she was always so impressed with you. You, a pony far younger than she, the epitome of generosity, and the very embodiment of grace. A soft smile would always grace her face when she read of you in the news, or when mention of you would float on the breeze from chatty neighbors. Yes, she was very fond of hearing you, and often told me that, if and when we had foals and fillies of our own, she could only hope that they would grow up to have half of the virtues that you do.”
Wait. Was?
A shadow spread over the stallion’s face. “In spite of her vibrant personality, however, she had a very weak constitution. She was always in and out of clinic beds for some virus or bug for as long as I can remember. ‘It was an eventuality’, the doctors told me, ‘and it shouldn’t come as a surprise’. Despite that, it was still a shock to me when she succumbed to an illness last winter. Something as common as a cold, able to claim the life of the most vibrant and beautiful mare I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
The hat fell softly to the floor, slipping out of Rarity’s grasp as she listened to the saddened stallion tell his story. Why is he telling me all this? She wondered.
“As a traveling musician, there was hardly enough bits coming in to put hay on the table,” the stallion lamented, a hoof absently falling to his cutie mark: a golden music stand. “In the end, we didn’t have enough savings to help my wife. In the end, she died to the most common ailment throughout Equestria; poverty.”
The stallion plodded over to Rarity, slowly picking up the tattered hat. Looking her in the eyes, he continued, “You’re probably wondering why I’m opening up to you like. It has to be a different experience, a complete stranger pouring his soul out to you. I tell you this because, out of all the ponies in the world, no one gave my wife greater hope for the future than you. If you were the next generation, she thought, surely no wrong would plague the land.
“When she died, she didn’t leave much behind, in the material sense,” the stallion continued, bringing his hat to the foreground once more. “After she was buried, all that was left to remind me of her presence was fond memories and this hat. She gave me this hat on our first date,” the stallion smiled and blinked rapidly, as if dispelling tears. “It was raining, quite a bit like today. She insisted that the weather shouldn’t stop us, and plopped this hat on my head, telling me my mane was too beautiful to be soaked in such a fashion.
“Once again, though, I’ve strayed from the topic. You see, Miss Rarity, I came here today as a result of a few weeks of travel. I figured that, if she’s still watching me from wherever it is she went, then nothing would bring her greater happiness than to have this hat worked on by Rarity herself.
“So you see, Miss Rarity, although your offer is outstandingly generous, I must refuse the offer of anything new. Instead, just please take care as you handle my hat,” he smiled at Rarity warmly, offering up the hat as he had before.
Wiping away a few tears of her own, Rarity could only smile and nod, taking the hat with her hooves this time. Carefully and deliberately, she applied all of her skill into mending the hat, taking great care with every stitch and seam. The end result was close to flawless. The color of the patches blended together to create a beautiful medley, and the seams were nigh invisible.
Seeing the finished result, the stallion began to dig around in his bag for the appropriate payment, but Rarity just shook her head. “At least afford me one act of generosity.”
One last warm smile crept over the stallion’s face. “Thank you Miss Rarity. Truly, you are the most virtuous.”
The pleasure was mine, Rarity thought as the stallion turned to leave. “Wait!” she called after him. “You never told me your name!”
“My name?” the stallion paused. “Miss Rarity, my name, like the name of my wife, is doomed to never grace the pages of history. They are not important, with no special meaning to any who glance. The only thing I implore you to remember me by is the admiration both me and my wife have for you, and nothing more.”
And with that, the stallion and his hat departed from Carousel Boutique, and never returned again.