//------------------------------// // 18. Trains, Strains and Explosive Pops - Part Three // Story: Letters From a Little Princess Monster // by Georg //------------------------------// Letters From a Little Princess Monster Trains, Strains and Explosive Pops …i’m still getting used to stuff. Ponies have stuff that they don’t want that they trade for things that they use to trade for stuff they do want, which seems like a lot of work for just stuff. except books. they’re something different than stuff. mom had a lot of stuff that she brought from Home, but it was all useful stuff (and books), not the weird stuff like garden centaurs and statues all around town. and dresses. sweetie says dresses are very important to the way other ponies see us, and i understand that a little. if i don’t wear my cloak, everypony looks at me and makes me scared, so i don’t take it off in town anymore. Trixie has a lot of crap, like she calls it, that she says came from where you live now… * * * Trixie paused in her contemplation of the vast pile of boxes on the train loading dock to make a grab for the stationmaster before he could escape. “Hey, buster! This crap can’t be all mine, is it?” “I’m afraid it is, Madame Trixie.” The stationmaster checked his watch and looked back at the grouchy unicorn and her small assistant, each carrying a cup of steaming coffee in their magic. “And it needs to be off my loading dock in two hours, or I’m going to have to charge you for storage.” “How in Hades am I supposed to drag all this…” Monster watched the stationmaster stride back into his strange magical office where he controlled the movements of the great machines, pausing to mark more times on the little slate out front. ‘Freight’ was a fascinating process where boxes and crates of nearly anything were grouped, labeled, loaded, unloaded, and moved across all of Equestria, or at least it would be if a few dozen crates of Trixie’s things were not sitting in the middle of the loading dock, blocking both pickup and delivery from the growing number of cart haulers stacked up on the street. Her thoughts on the topic were disturbed by the sight of Trixie, standing directly in front of her and waving a hoof in front of Monster’s face. “Hello? You in there? I just asked if you could carry all these boxes back to the library for me.” “Me?” Monster eyed the pile and calculated the distance to the library, considering the estimated reduction in speed from the weight of the various boxes and frequent breaks to regain her strength. “Three days.” “What? Trixie slugged down the rest of her coffee and chewed for a moment before lowering her head to look into Monster’s eyes, which was a little difficult considering the little filly had drooped low enough to brush her nose on the ground. “I saw you and Celestia carrying that tree, and I thought—” “Mostly her. I carried a branch.” “Oh.” Trixie absentmindedly bit a chunk out of her styrofoam cup and waved at the boxes. “So how much can you lift — oh, never mind. We’ll find out when the teacher shows up tomorrow to run your evaluation for school.” “A test?” The last word squeaked into a higher register, unheard by Trixie as she flagged down a stalled cart and its broad-shouldered driver. “Hey, Big Mac. I’ve got a favor to ask. You see all those crates over there?” Trixie waved at the crowded freight dock, then turned to the distant library. “And you see my drafty home way over there? Do you think you could get the two of them in the same location?” The stallion shrugged out of his harness and regarded the two objectives, shifting the stem of wheat from one side of his square jaw to the other. “Don’t want ‘ta move no more trees.” She had actually opened her mouth to snap a vicious response before spotting the glitter of amusement in those deep green eyes. “Oh, har de har, har. I’m surrounded by hayseeds and—” “Test!” shrieked Monster as she dashed by at a full gallop, headed in the direction of downtown Ponyville. “Study! Books! Flash cards!” Trixie and Big Mac stood side by side, watching the little purple blur vanish into Quills and Sofas, emerging moments later being pursued by a cloud of white feathers wrapped in her magic and making a beeline over to the library, ending with the sound of a slamming door. “Ponyfeathers,” swore Trixie, looking around for a trash can before tossing her empty cup into the back end of Big Mac’s apple-filled wagon. “Look, I don’t have any bits right now, but—” “Go,” said Big Mac with a nudge that nearly knocked Trixie off her hooves. “I’ll bring ‘em over.” “Really?” Trixie stopped, torn between the handsome stallion and whatever expensive destruction Menace was probably doing in the library. “Eeyup. That’s what friends are for.” * * * The locked library door rattled briefly until there was a faint click and Trixie peeked inside, tucking the key back into her cloak. “Menace?” “Can’t talk. Gotta study. Test!” The faint sound of scribbling came from upstairs in the general vicinity of Trixie’s new bedroom, and did not even pause for a moment as a book unshelved itself from the ‘Early Magic - Unicorn’ section and began floating up the stairs. Following the book, Trixie opened the door to her bedroom and regarded the mess with a sour grimace. The former librarian, Miss Dewey, had left for the retirement stable in Acapulcolt with only one large bag, deeding any of her personal possessions remaining to the next occupant. The collection of bric-a-brac and keepsakes strewn about the library was remarkably short of any photos, but had proven to be a wealth of information about the town, from the huge collection of little hoof-made Hearth’s Warming presents from the school students, to a set of certificates from the Equestrian Librarian Association detailing her rise from Librarian (Provisionary Trainee) to Elder Keeper of Mysteries and Lore (Rural). The bedroom desk, a huge oaken monstrosity with more hidden drawers than a magician’s cloak, had been rather enthusiastically cleaned of a half-century of paperwork and records to make room for a dozen open books and one small alicorn filly centered between them. “Hey. Menace. It’s just an evaluation. Don’t sweat it so much.” Trixie slipped into her bedroom with a pause before taking a deep breath and walking right up to the studious little student. “Hey. You’re not all bent out of shape because of your last test, are you?” “No.” Monster buried her nose in a book so far that her horn rested on the top binding while her nose pressed against the bottom. It was far too near for her to actually read anything on the page, and after a few calming breaths of the book’s papery scent, she finally looked up at Trixie. “Maybe.” Nudging the little alicorn to one side, Trixie settled into the soft chair and spread her cape over the two of them, heading off the beginning of a tremor that had just started shaking Monster’s little wings. “Look, the evaluator is just going to measure your progress in magic to make sure the lessons you get aren’t too advanced or too dumb. It’s just like getting your horn measured, or seeing how tall you are—” “Or getting weighed?” Trixie took a deep breath, looking at the bottom drawer of the desk where Blueblood’s bottles had been stored. “Yes.” “How did you get ready for your tests?” Monster looked away, closing her books and levitating them into a neat stack while getting out a quill and a notecard. “By vanishing the night before and showing up all hung-over in the morning,” said a gravely voice to one side. Spike sat up in his basket and rubbed his eyes, exchanging glares with Trixie. “Well, it’s the truth.” “They were study sessions,” protested Trixie in a voice that was nearly a whine. “We all got together and got out the books, with some refreshments, of course, and…” The thud of somepony knocking on the library door provided a welcome distraction, but before Trixie could even move, Spike zipped past her and down the stairs. “So you studied with your friends?” asked Monster, her eyes almost black in the dim light of the shuttered bedroom. “Well, I don’t know if you could call them…” Trixie rearranged her hat while considering the variety of scholastic achievements produced by her party associates and coming up with a very small number approaching zero, if not some negative number. “Well, yes. I suppose you can have a friend or two over to study with, if that will calm you down. I’ll have Spike run a note over to Rarity; that at least I know he’ll do for free.” * * * It took all morning to get the various crates and boxes brought into the library, eventually winding up packing the basement nearly full, covering most of the first floor up to several stacks deep, and putting the rest in the little storage nooks and cubbyholes that the library seemed to sprout whenever Trixie was not looking. There had to be some sort of spell on the old oak tree that kept it from filling up all the way, but no matter how Trixie looked, she could only find the original enchantment that had been cast when the tree was just a branch library (and she winced at the concept. Sometimes it seemed as if the entire town was just one big bad oak.) Big Mac and several other husky stallions had been invaluable with the moving, each of them making a particular point to ask about Prince Blueblood and any relationship he might share with Ponyville’s newest librarian. One of them had even postulated that Trixie was only in Ponyville for eleven months in order for the Royal Foal to be born and properly assigned to a foster family. Trixie dissuaded him of the idea, as well as blacking his eye and making him walk cross-legged for a few hours afterwards, which seemed to raise her status with the rest of the stallions. But stallions were not the only things that bothered Trixie’s mind. When Sweetie Belle dropped by and asked about Monster, Trixie sent her straight up to the bedroom so the two of them could study together. It was a little risky, but Trixie had a perfectly good fire extinguishing spell and a lot of practice, as well as little desire to watch little filly sparks. Then a young unicorn named Dinky dropped by and said that Sweetie Belle had told her about the study session, and that her mother had received an evaluation letter just like Trixie had received for her young daughter. She sent the little brat upstairs with the other two little disasters. Kicking the stallion in his jewels was a good catharsis for her bruised emotions, and a much more socially accepted activity than yelling at some little filly. Then two little unicorns from out of town showed up at the same time, each having received the same letter and making the long trip to Ponyville together for their evaluation tomorrow. The concept of a sleepover was brought up—to Trixie’s inner dread—before they happily trotted up the stairs to join the studying throng. Then Snips and Snails showed up. And Berry Pinch. And Pinkie Pie. And Firelock. And… Wait a minute. Trixie escorted the next little unicorn, a filly named Sun Glimmer, up to the bedroom and peeked inside, expecting to see… Well, she was not quite sure. Pinkie Pie had gone up to the room, so there should have been a noisy party with cake and punch. Instead, eight little unicorns were very carefully levitating each piece of bric-a-brac to one side, clearing out a section of floor where the beginnings of a serious study group was beginning to form, complete with notecards, sharpened quills, and scattered books with well worn covers bearing titles such as What To Do When Your Foal Begins To Glow and McPuffins Reader For Magic - Grade One. Resting on top of the massive oak desk was a neat collection of tidy carrot and celery sticks with small boxes of apple juice, as well as a generous stack of colorful napkins. “What do you think?” whispered Pinkie Pie in one ear, making Trixie nearly smack her head against the doorframe in reaction. “I was going to add sliced cantaloupe, but that could get all messy.” “It’s… How… Aren’t…” Trixie stopped for breath and watched the study group move to accommodate Sun Glimmer, who plunked down a fern right in the middle of the circle and began to trim off little bits and pieces of dry foliage. She closed the door and tried to focus a serious look at Pinkie Pie, which was a little like trying to visually mix oil and water. “What have you done with the little fillies and colts in this town? Are they changelings?” “‘Scuse me! Pardon me!” A little changeling colt came clattering up the stairs and stopped, looking at Trixie and Pinkie with bright eyes. “Is this where the study group is meeting?” Trixie wordlessly pointed at the room, and the little creature vanished inside. From the happy cries and laughter that spilled out, he was expected and welcomed with just as much joy as any of the rest of the multicolored multitude. “Not all of them. Just Peep Sprout there.”