Chapter 3: Time Will Tell
Twilight had elected to keep any comments quiet about the legendary (though she had no small inkling of doubt) mage’s humble abode. His small cabin squatted awkwardly on an isolated hill surrounded by unclipped trees and overgrown shrubbery. As Twilight watched Star Swirl heave at the handle of his door, she tried to swallow any misgivings about following this stallion to his decidedly dilapidated … rustic residence.
Inside his home, Star Swirl had taken the time to guide the uneasy alicorn around his small home, showing her everything in it, as if he’d never had a house guest before. His actions reminded her of a small foal she sometimes saw in Cheerilee’s class. He had trouble keeping still. The thought had unexpectedly cast her mind back.
Perhaps he’s a little like Pinkie, she mused to herself but she gave a slight shrug and dismissed it as Star Swirl led her to a small corner of his home. He pointed to a few ornaments hanging on the wall and babbled about their esoteric origins. Though Twilight would never ignore an opportunity to learn something new, her chattering teeth reminded her and Star Swirl that Twilight was still covered in heat-leaching mud.
Startled by the audible rhythmic clack of of Twilight’s teeth, Star Swirl seemed to remember himself and he hastily opened the door to what looked like his bathroom. With a sly grin and holding a hoof to his nose, he told her in no uncertain terms that though his standards for hygiene were lax, his sense of smell was certainly not. Though true, the off-hoof statement had irked her and she had responded by slamming the roughly hewn door in his smug face. Rolling her eyes and left alone to herself, Twilight sighed and wondered how her life could get so complicated sometimes.
“It’s always Discord,” she muttered to herself, trotting to the only feature in the spartan bathroom. Though the room had little in the way of features, a mysterious source infused the room with warmth and soon Twilight stopped shivering. Star Swirl had told her to get washed up, but Twilight realised belatedly that there wouldn’t be any of the modern conveniences that modern magic afforded. Hot water was probably definitely out of the question. Sighing, Twilight sidled over to the rough-hewn half-cask that squatted in the centre of the bathroom like a self-satisfied toad.
I’ll bet Discord had a claw in this, she thought darkly. She shook her head clear of the dangerously broiling thoughts and reluctantly cast around for water. She could grumble about Discord later, for now she had to get clean. When she found it, her ears wilted and she could feel the disappointment laid flat against her skull.
Well, this will be difficult.
That was probably the understatement of the century.
Twilight eyed the small barrel warily, her gaze drifting to the pail of water from time to time. Usually, her bath times were an ordered, magic-aided affair. A brush would be levitated in her spell, set to brushing at the appropriate frequency (~0.7 brushes per second), shampoo and conditioners poured out in small beakers and measuring cups in precise amounts, and her mane and tail precisely groomed to exact specifications to ensure the length and width were accurate to her preferred aesthetic dimensions.
Without magic, or indeed shampoo… or even a brush, she found it difficult to contemplate how one would achieve such a seemingly impossible feat. Pursing her lips, Twilight mentally flicked through her innate compendium of spells. A number of them offered themselves to the fore of her mind, but she dismissed them. It wasn’t possible with her reserves running so low. She needed a good night’s rest.
She glared at the pail, for a moment despising its very existence. It might be unfair to the pail, but she thought that as a Princess she should have the right to grumble and mumble from time to time. After all, she hadn’t done so in such a long while. Twilight gritted her teeth. Okay, enough stalling. Pail. Half-tub. How hard could it be?
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Star Swirl hummed to himself, flittering around the kitchen. After getting over the fact that she smelled something fierce, Star Swirl was excited to have a guest in his house. His hooves practically danced across the floor in glee as he fumbled around the cabinets for the ingredients of a modest stew. Freshly picked vegetables were sorted, water was drawn from the well, and luckily, he had the pail prepared for his own bath! Finally, there was another unicorn to talk to that wasn’t from the castle! At least, he didn’t think she was from the castle.
He chuckled to himself. No, none of the nobles would be caught dead in the muddy, swampy recesses of the forests. His expression brightened as he considered the implications.
Perhaps, they could become friends?
He paused, his hooves hovering over the pot. He shook his head doggedly. Maybe he shouldn’t get so excited. He might have given her lodging, and she might seem friendly enough, but that didn’t mean she would want to be friends with him. He dropped in the remaining potatoes and seasoning a mite more roughly than intended. But then he glanced at the table, finally set for more than one after so long…
Ah, who cares? Just go for it, he affirmed to himself.
Flicking closed the dampener for the stove, Star Swirl sighed and drew away from the kitchen to sit in one of the lone wooden chairs in the cosy lounge room. His flank had barely the time to touch the seat when a muffled exclamation and a series of dull thuds and crashes emanated from the washing room.
Feeling no small amount of trepidation, Star Swirl galloped towards the door and thudded his hoof on it.
“Are you okay?!” he yelled.
No response.
“Twilight? Is everything alright?”
Still no response.
Cautiously, he pried open the door. A small efflux of water flowed out of the room, to lazily encircle Star Swirl’s hooves. He gingerly lifted his hooves and brought his gaze up to see what lay within the bathroom. Twilight was splayed out in the middle of the assorted chaos, groaning slightly.
“How the hay did this happen?!” Star Swirl exclaimed.
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Twilight tried prying her wings from her sides but found the mud had hardened to an impenetrable exoskeleton. Her horn sparked again but she was unable to summon a more powerful spell than weak levitation. Disheartened, Twilight slumped back on the edge of the wooden barrel that qualified as a washtub. A small burnished mirror hung proudly off a disjointed hook on a wall. Star Swirl had mentioned, with a smug look on his face, that the mirror was a rarity in the land. Fine copper craftsponies were hard to come by and polishing the mirror was a chore, so mirrors only existed among the high socialites of the upper class nobility. Apparently, he had come to possess it after performing a favour for the local duchess, or so he claimed.
All these snippets of data were automatically catalogued in the back of her mind as Twilight’s thoughts scattered and swirled around in her headspace. These things tended to happen when she was apprehensive… or just nervous. Once again, she glared at the offending pail. It would be difficult enough to clamber into the ‘bathtub’ without her wings to help balance her. Though she hadn’t attained mastery of them, she had to admit they were instinctively useful in many small ways. Balancing, sensing wind and weather, helping her with falls and tumbles. She’d grown used to the luxury that they afforded.
Twilight bit her lip.
Okay, just do it, she urged herself. Won’t be a problem. Applejack and Pinkie do it all the time…
With a heave, Twilight flexed her fore hooves and hugged the pail awkwardly to herself. She brought it up and then set it down, panting slightly. When was the last time she had done any sort of work without the aid of magic? Winter Wrap Up? But that didn’t involve manual labour. Twilight blinked slowly. Had she ever been without magic in her life? There was Poison Joke but that was only temporary… Had there been any extended period of time that she was without her magic?
A rising sense of fear prickled up her hooves, threatening to grow and surge through her, to plunge her into panic and chaos. What if she couldn’t ever perform a levitation spell again? What if she were never to be able to perform magic again?!
No! she cried inwardly. That won’t happen!
With an effort Twilight stifled the fearful whispers rasping at the back of her mind. She resisted the urge to stomp her hoof and opted instead to take a deep, calming breath.
It’s okay, she thought. One problem at a time.
She glanced back at the pail. Moving it would be a simple application of force and momentum. She was heavier than it. Therefore she would greatly affect the velocity proportionally. Simple physics.
Grasping the pail again, she angled herself and heaved again. This time the heavy container came up with her and Twilight felt a surge of triumphant joy course through her as she freed it and carefully slung it up.
Okay, she thought. That’s the hard part…
Momentum betrayed her for a moment and she was forced to balance on her hind legs to push the centre of gravity forward. Teetering on her hind legs, she carefully aimed the pail at the tub and slowly tilted herself forward.
What she didn’t see was the small wet patch on the floor.
Taking an instinctive step back with one hind hoof to balance herself for the manoeuvre, Twilight let loose a shriek as she realised that her hoof held no traction whatsoever. Tumbling forward, she braced herself as she collided head-first into the tub with such force that the heavy barrel tilted over. The pail contents ejected themselves from their container in haste into Twilight’s face, with the pail itself flying away from her grasp. The water soaked the already dirty, matted and now sopping wet alicorn.
The pail, not done with the now dazed Twilight, ricocheted off the side wall and connected solidly with her face, sending her head over hooves. Unfortunately for Twilight, the pail had knocked her back a couple of steps, which would have been fine if not for the wet patch minding its own business on the same part of the floor. With a look of disbelief, mild confusion and a heavy dose of pain, Twilight slipped on the wet stone floor again and landed squarely on her back. To top it all off, the iron-banded barrel decided to dislodge itself from the wall and fall on top of her. Winded, Twilight could only wheeze as the door pounded and Star Swirl called out her name in frantic concern.
Her mouth only making fish-out-of-water movements, she could do little to respond to Star Swirl’s prior calls as he charged through the door and froze. The young stallion witnessed a bizarre tableau mainly comprising of Twilight’s awkward position wedged underneath an upturned barrel and slowly rotating pail coming to a lazy stop, as if taunting the accomplished spellcaster on the ineptitude of using her hooves.
Star Swirl wasn’t one to know that of course and the first words he blurted out were, “What the hay happened here?!”
Twilight shook her head, trying to get her double vision to focus.
“Tub… water… slip… wooo…” she mumbled, then collapsed.
For the record, the bathroom still remains one of the most dangerous places to be in, even after a thousand years.