Twilight pushed her way through the last layer of ferns edging the Whitetail Wood, took a few steps and then stopped. She looked over her shoulder, obviously impatient at the slower pace of her companions. While they were still mostly shrouded by the thick leaves she could clearly hear their voices.
“Very much so,” Grogar answered the filly’s unheard question.
“So...I’m gonna have to get some bells?” was Apple Bloom’s follow-up question.
“They don’t have to be bells,” he replied.
“But you use them,” said Apple Bloom.
“I didn’t always,” said Grogar.
“You didn’t?”
The ram chuckled once, “As hard as it may be to imagine, there was a time before anyone used metal.”
Apple Bloom’s voice was tinged with awe, “But then what did you do for the music?”
Grogar’s voice took on a distant quality, “A long, long, long time ago I had a set of pipes.”
“You invented plumbing?”
Grogar’s responding laugh sounded relaxed, happy, and very much alive. “No, no. Pipes like a flute. Each with a single note, tied together into an instrument.”
“Could you show me how to make one?” she asked.
“It would be my pleasure,” the god said warmly.
By now Twilight had noticed that there was a distinct lack of noises associated with walking through foliage. She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. The noise of rapid, crunching steps resumed and the pair shortly emerged from the undergrowth, both looking a bit sheepish.
“I’m going back to my library,” Twilight informed them. “Where are the two of you headed?”
For the next few moments, Apple Bloom passively awaited her mentor’s answer. As the comfortable silence stretched into awkwardness, the filly glanced questioningly over to the ram. Grogar was calmly sitting on his haunches and when Apple Bloom caught his gaze he looked down at her, silently and expectantly.
"Oh!” Apple Bloom exclaimed as she realized that she was the one to decide where they were headed.
Twilight watched as the filly spent the next few seconds wracking her brain. A short amount of time later the girl’s face set in decisiveness.
“We’re heading to Zecora’s,” Apple Bloom said. “There’s a...there was a village out in the Everfree Forest. There’s a lot of ponies stuck there. They need my help and Zecora might be able to help us help them.”
Twilight’s brows rose in surprise. “Are you sure, Apple Bloom? That could be pretty dangerous.”
The filly stared at Twilight like she had grown a second head. “Seriously?”
“What?” the unicorn asked.
Apple Bloom glanced over at Grogar. The two seemed to have some sort of nonverbal conference. It ended with Apple Bloom snorting single ‘ha’. “It’s ok, Twilight. We’ve got this.”
Twilight sighed at the observation that Grogar was already beginning to rub off on the filly. “Just what the world needs,” she thought, “two of them.” “Ok, I guess that’s it then.” was Twilight’s reply. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. “Soooo...it’s been..., ” Twilight searched her brain for a non-offensive term. A modern turn of phrase she had heard Rainbow Dash use came to mind. “...real.”
It was Grogar’s turn to snort in amusement for no reason discernible to Twilight. “No, not entirely. But that’s ok.” In a more serious tone, “Are you sure you don’t want to come along? There’s much you could learn.”
“I’m sure,” she answered. “There’s something I really need to take care of, right away.” The unicorn wrestled with the next sentence but eventually decided to speak. “Um...next time the two of you are in town...”
“Yes?” Grogar prompted with an innocent expression on his face.
“Next time you’re in town, I would be ok if you wanted to stop by the library. You know, to say ‘hi’ or something,” she finished.
He replied by playing coy, “I’ll think about it.”
Twilight turned her eyes away from the deity, uncomfortable admitting that she may have been overreacting to the ram’s infuriating ways. Her eyes were immediately captured by the horizon. Deep in her bones, she felt the moment of dawn arriving. This sense was something she had retained since her last adventure involving Grogar but, due to her nocturnal study habits, she was rarely awake to witness Celestia raising the sun and wanted to cherish this moment.
Nothing happened. The sky was still stained robin’s-egg blue in the east but the sun lingered behind the horizon. Her eyes grew wide as concern began to rapidly grow within her breast.
“What’s wrong?” Apple Bloom asked her.
“The sun, it’s...” In that moment dawn broke in its usual radiant glory. “Oh, I guess it was nothing.”
As Twilight turned back to her companions she thought she saw Grogar’s brow furrowed in worry. An instant later, all trace of the expression was gone.
“We should get going,” the ram said without any inflection.
Twilight nodded and turned to start galloping back towards her home.
---------------------------------------------------
She threw open the door to her beloved library with a twitch of magic as she arrived. Her eyes immediately sought out the balled up letter from Luna, hoping to rescue it from the fireplace and read it immediately.
“Spike? Are you home?” the unicorn called out.
“Twilight!” the dragon shouted from the kitchen. “You’re home!” he yelled as he ran to her as fast as his little legs would allow. Upon reaching her he buried his face in her chest and hugged her as hard as he could.
“Hey Spike,” Twilight comforted, surprised by the intensity of the drake’s greeting. “You ok?”
He squeezed her once more for good measure and then let go of the unicorn. Taking a step backwards into comfortable conversation range he lied, “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just worried about you.”
“It turned out ok in the end. It looks like Apple Bloom is going to be fine.”
“Um, what about Sweetie Belle?” Spike asked - with affected nonchalance.
“She’s ok too, Spike,” Twilight answered with a smile. “Though you should probably check up on her tomorrow.” The unicorn then realized what time it was, “Er, I mean later today.”
“Well ok, if you think it’s a good idea,” Spike feigned indifference was comically transparent.
“Sure, Spike. Hey, where did you end up putting that letter from Luna?” Twilight said while looking around.
“Er, letters? I mean letter? Um, what letter?” Spike lied, badly.
Twilight walked over to the fireplace into which she had tossed the thing in a pique of rage. Her heart fell as she saw the fresh ashes. “Oh, Spike! You burned it.”
“Um,Twilight, it was in the fireplace.”
She groaned, “I know, I know...it’s just that I was wrong to throw it away and had hoped it was still here.”
Spike was torn. He knew now that the letter hadn’t been for Twilight but he also hated not knowing anything beyond that single word he had read. “You could write her one,” he suggested.
Her eyes brightened with hope. “You’re right!” she exclaimed. Twilight then galloped over to her writing desk, not wanting to have Spike write this one for her. She grabbed a quill in her aura and drew the implement across the page with blinding speed. She wanted this note in Luna’s hooves now.
Dearest Luna,
I have made a terrible mistake and have hurt you when all you’ve given me is love. I was being unfair to you, holding you responsible for actions that were not your own. While I cannot promise to never make this kind of mistake again, I promise to try not to. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and give me the chance to learn from this.
With love and hope,
Twilight
“Spike!” she called while blotting the ink dry. “Send this to Luna?”
“Ok, ok.” the drake agreed while ambling over to her. He shook his head at the vagaries of romance and the pendulum-like dynamic between these two mares.
Visualizing the intended alicorn recipient Spike blew out a tongue of green flame. The letter caught fire and lay on the ground, burning. He and Twilight looked at each other for a moment before stomping out the orange, mundane flames.
“Spike, what did you do?” Twilight asked.
“Nothing, I mean nothing new. I did it like I always do.”
Twilight eyed her charge for a moment before returning to her writing desk and scribbling another copy of the letter. “Here, try again,” she ordered.
Again, the letter simply burned.
Twilight’s eyes began to bulge with panic. She turned back to the desk and wrote a single word on a page of paper: “TEST.”
“Spike, send this to Celestia,” forgetting all honorifics in her agitated state.
Spike made sure to concentrate fully on the task before him. He visualized Celestia, every hair and hoof, and then reached out with his flame. The letter vanished in a swirl of green smoke. “Oh,” was all he could say.
Twilight’s face was drained of hope and her shoulders slumped. ‘I...I guess she broke off the connection spell. I deserve that.”
Spike warred with himself, wanting to both protect and please his de facto mother. After watching Twilight deflate he caved in.. “Twilight? Maybe we could send the letter to Luna by way of Celestia?”
She looked at him over her shoulder. Only a faint glimmer of hope was left in the eye that was pointed towards him. “Do you think that would be ok?”
“I don’t see why not,” was the drake’s simple answer.
Twilight drew her head up and squared her shoulders. “Ok, one more time,” she said out loud to herself as she approached the desk again. A third copy of the letter begging Luna to take her back was written by horn. After rolling and sealing the scroll she wrote “To: Princess Luna, ℅ Princess Celestia,” on the outside. She vastly preferred that Celestia not open and read her letter pouring her heart out to the goddess’ sister but at this point it was a risk she was willing to take.
With a nod to Spike, she levitated the scroll in front of him. He obliged and sent the desperate letter on its way. The two of them then stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do next.
“Um, it might take a little while for the Princess to sent the letter over to Luna,” said Spike.
“Yeah,” was all she said staring at the young dragon’s mouth.
“And then she has to read it, and then write a reply, and might take some time to think about what she’s going to say...” Spike left the sentence hanging with the implication that they should perhaps go do something other than stare at his mouth clear but unspoken. “Come on Twilight, this is getting creepy.”
“Guuugh, fine!” Twilight conceded. She decided that the time spent waiting for a reply would best be used for a badly overdue shower and headed to her bathroom.
------------------------------------------
A whisp of green smoke gathered above Celestia’s head, about six inches before and above her muzzle. The letter from Twilight precipitated from the vapor and fell amongst the shattered remnants of her desk. The early, yellow sunlight blended with Celestia's golden aura as she grasped the missive with her magic, retrieving it from the still-smoldering ruins of her study. The most powerful mare in existence struggled to hold the letter still enough to read.
Seeing the address, she sighed and broke the purple wax seal with a pulse of magic. The scroll dipped from the effort.
The goddess' blood-shot eyes crawled over Twilight's letter. Finishing, she shut her eyes and dropped the paper to be lost among the thousands of semi-charred pages fluttering about in the morning breeze.
"Too late. Far too late," she muttered to herself voice breaking from the weight of her emotions.
After several moments of searching the rubble she found an unscathed sheet of paper and quill that wasn't too badly damaged. She swiped the soot from a spot on the wall and pinned the paper to that single clean space. She poured her remaining energy into the effort of moving the quill smoothly, emulating her normal horn-writing, and penned:
My Faithful Student,
I am sorry to say that I cannot deliver your letter to my dear sister at this time. Upon returning from Ponyville, Luna announced that she was taking an extended leave of absence and did not leave any forwarding instructions for her mail. I believe solitude was her goal. I will turn your letter over to her staff and it will be waiting there for her return.
I do, dear Twilight, have my own reasons for writing you. I am coming to Ponyville tomorrow with a very important visitor. I apologize for the short notice but this matter cannot wait. We will be arriving by chariot at noon. Please bring all five of your friends and meet us at the meadow near Fluttershy’s home.
Princess Celestia
Celestia rolled the paper into a scroll and sealed it. She closing her eyes in unaccustomed concentration as she used an unusually large portion of her power to sent the letter on its way.
----------------------------------
Grogar and Apple Bloom watched from the edge of Sweet Apple Acres as an orange mare with a bright yellow mane, unaware that she was being observed, moved from tree to tree within the orchard. The giant ram seemed fascinated as he watched Applejack at work. The farm pony would go up to a tree, sniff it, gingerly bite the bark, and then knock softly against the wood with her hoof while pressing one ear up against the plant.
“What is she doing?” he asked his yellow companion.
“She’s checking up on them. She seeing how they’re doing for water, fertilizer, and minerals.”
Grogar shook his head in amazement at the display of such skill applied to such humble work.
“Is she my mom?” Apple Bloom asked, out of nowhere.
“She raised you from a foal,” was his answer.
“No. I mean, really my mother.”
“She raised you from a foal,” Grogar repeated.
Apple Bloom stared daggers at the great ram.
He sighed, “Does it matter?”
“I don’t know but that’s for me to figure out, not you.” she replied with confidence.
Grogar smiled with equal parts amusement and pride. “Your talent is seeing something that, while true, most can’t. Truth is something rare and precious, Apple Bloom, and talents like that are very, very rare. When they do present, it often passes from parent to child.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” she replied.
“Then why did you ask?”
“Making sure. You are supposed to be my teacher now.”
Grogar frowned, “Perhaps we could refer to this as an apprenticeship? Teachers bring to mind chalkboards and multiplication tables.”
“Apprentice and master? Nope,” countered the filly. “ That sounds like I should be stealing bones from the local graveyard and then waiting on you hoof and mouth.”
Grogar’s reply was a pleading look that was made utterly ridiculous by his size, fierce mien, and scourged eyes.
“Ain’t gonna happen,” repeated Apple Bloom a moment before they both broke into chuckles.
“Fine,” Grogar agreed. “How about a mentorship?”
Apple Bloom tried it out, “Grogar is my mentor. Ok, that works. Mentor and ment-” She stalled out looking for the proper suffix.
“Mentee,” Grogar supplied.
“I guess it’s better than ‘Apprentice’,’” Not entirely liking the proper term for her role.
“You’re stalling,” said Grogar.
“Yeah? So?” Was her playfully insolent answer.
Grogar’s reply was to swat her on the rump with a hoof in the direction of the farm-pony.
The filly yipped and at a gallop quickly neared Applejack. The farmer’s head turned away from her tree inspection when she heard the noise of quickly approaching hooves. Her face lit up at seeing the yellow filly so soon after her departure.
“Apple Bloom!” the mare shouted in excitement while holding out her hooves to receive a tackling hug. Her face and hooves fell when the filly slowed down and stopped a couple of meters away. “Apple Bloom?” Applejack said again, this time as a question.
“Applejack. I don’t have long, seeing as me and Grogar are just passing through on our way to Zecora’s.”
The mare nodded cautiously in reply.
“That being the case,” the filly continued, “we don’t have time to get into things right now like we need to.”
Applejack’s coat paled.
"I’m sure you had your reasons for lying to me and everybody else. That don’t make it right, though.”
“I’m so sorry-” the mare started, only to be cut off by the filly.
“Lemme finish. It ain’t right and we’re gonna have a long talk about it the next time we get some sit-down time together but I wanted to let you know...that I forgive you for lying to me.”
Applejack remained silent as tears started.
“Also, I ain’t gonna start calling you ‘mom’. That’s just weird,” said the filly as she cautiously approached within hug range. “I love you sis.”
“I love you too, AB,” Applejack replied as she pulled her filly into a rib-crushing hug and wept in relief.
Both mares heard a low-pitched snuffle In the distance. Looking up they saw that a magma tear was burning a smoking path down Grogar’s face. Apple Bloom smirked.
“Orchard, tree pollen, allergies,” the god lied - badly.
----------------------------------
Spike hadn’t expected an answer within the next day, let alone within the next few minutes. The belch of fire took him by surprise, incinerating the comic book he was reading. In the comic’s place was now a scroll bearing the solar seal.
“Gimmigimmigimmi,” Twilight exclaimed as she galloped headlong down the stairs while dripping water everywhere.
Spike wisely stepped away from the letter and out of the line of the mare’s charge.
Gripping the letter in her aura, Twilight cracked the seal and read. “Oh,” Twilight said as she finished the letter. She read it again and one more time afterwards to make certain she hadn’t misinterpreted anything. She released her telekinetic hold on the paper and let the scroll drop to the floor. Without a word or look to Spike, she climbed the stairs leading to her bedroom, tail dragging along the floor behind her.
Spike stared after her for a moment and after she passed from view he took up the opened letter. His young features scrunched in consternation as he read the text. He looked upwards, as if he could see through the living wood to his almost-mother’s bedroom. Resigning himself to duty, he placed the letter in the file cabinet where Twilight kept her correspondence with the solar diarch and then headed out of the library to let the others know that their presence was needed tomorrow.
Twilight heard the door to the library open and close and welcomed her own solitude. She contemplated emulating Luna and taking her own “leave of absence” but immediately dismissed the thought as irresponsible. She had commitments here: her studies, her job, Spike, and her friends. The unicorn threw herself onto her bed as a flash of anger passed through her. Part of her envied Luna’s ability to just drop everything at a moment’s notice. Another part thought it highly irresponsible to the point of being uncharacteristic for the diarch. The anger was immediately followed by guilt as Twilight postulated that her poor behavior must have deeply wounded the alicorn, to the point where she no longer cared about her so recently resumed duties.
After spending several minutes in a funk oscillating between anger and guilt, Twilight reached out with her aura and pulled one of the large collection of planners from the shelf above her bed. The one she gripped was embossed with a thin crescent moon. In the empty space within the arc the images of a fork, knife, and spoon were crossed. As it floated over into her line of sight, she flipped the book open and looked for today's entry.
She read the entry in a sad and wistful tone. “Dulse.”