//------------------------------// // Third Movement // Story: Suite: Judy Blue Eyes // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// “Chestnut-brown canary, ruby-throated sparrow,” Judy sang as she laid on the grass next to Caramel. “Sing a song, don’t be long, fill me to the marrow!” Caramel said nothing, merely strumming whatever came to mind on his guitar as he was with his lady love. The late summer afternoon warmed the two as they sat under the shade of a large, sturdy oak, taking a break on their trip south towards Mexicolt. “I remember that song,” Caramel noted as he stopped playing his guitar. “My schoolteacher used to make us sing it a lot, at least until one of the fillies in class told her that ruby-throated sparrows are technically finches and so the song doesn’t make sense. After that Mrs. Brightlight just made us sing ‘Celestia Raises a Lovely Sun’ over and over.” He chuckled at the memory; it seemed long ago, more so than it actually was, but he’d been a different pony back then. “Do you miss them?” Judy asked, looking at him with soulful eyes. “It sounds like your time in Ponyville was wonderful.” “It was. I mean, granted, I love exploring and wandering – and being with you,” he said, bending down to kiss her on the forehead quickly, “but yes, I miss Ponyville. Not in a hurry to go back there, though. What about you? Don’t you miss where you came from?” A thought crossed the stallion’s mind that in all this time, Judy really hadn’t talked much about her past. He knew everything about her: her likes, her fears, where she liked being kissed, and so forth and so on, but family didn’t come much into the picture. Nor did friends. Really, the farthest back in her personal history she’d ever talked about was the fact that prior to their meeting, she’d spent the week in Berryville, taking in the sights at the local museum there. “I….” She paused for a second, as if in heavy thought. “No, no I really don’t miss it,” she finally answered. “Little mining town, stern mother, drab location and really nothing interesting at all about my family or the neighbors or the like. I had ... I guess you could call them friends, but at the same time, they really weren’t. More like ... just others my age that happened to live there, you know?” “I suppose, but ... a mining town? That’s odd; usually mining is earth pony work, and you’re a pegasus.” “Maybe, but the townsfolk really got good at it,” she replied in a tone that indicated that she didn’t want to talk about it any further. Caramel silently noted that and promised not to bring it up again. Now that lunch was done, she decided to pack up while he checked their cart to make sure that it was ready for travel. “Caramel?” he heard her ask. “I’m ... sorry that I can’t talk more about the Hi ... Haven. There aren’t many good memories for me there.” “High ... haven?” he repeated. “Your town’s name is Highhaven?” “Yeah. Highhaven. Anyways, I was never really happy there,” she said once more. “I left for a reason, and I really wasn’t happy until I met you.” She blushed at that, and he followed in that flush; she went over and nuzzled him before placing the picnic equipment in the back of the cart. That done, he hitched himself and the two walked off, continuing down the road. “Dank you for coming to help our town vith the Running of the Leaffes,” Apple Strudel said, grinning mightily at Caramel. “Our town’s not much for doing dis, zo Fall alvays comes late. Put now it's on time, danks to you vonterful young folk! Jawohl!” “You’re welcome,” Caramel said, blushing; behind him, Judy easily talked to some of the other mares present, many of them much older than either of them with the “youngest” being in her sixties. During their travels, they’d found themselves in the town of Old Apple, and the town very much lived up to its name: The ponies who lived there were members of the Apple family and were in their silver years. The town’s mayor, Apfelbaum, had mentioned that most of their younger ponies either moved away or were otherwise busy, leaving the town elders – who made up most of the population anyway – to handle most of the town’s duties. “Oh, I’m zure ve could haffe done it ourzelffes,” Apfelkuchen, Apple Strudel’s wife, explained, “but betveen mein club hoof and the other malaties the townsponies haffe, vell ... ve’re chust not vat ve uzed to be.” “Well, we’re glad we can help,” Caramel replied with a proud smile. He remembered Strudel from the last time the old stallion had been in Ponyville, and had enjoyed his company and the many tall tales Strudel had told. The best of them, the younger pony had to admit, had been Strudel’s nonsensical and meandering tale about the time he’d donned “Battle Lederhosen” to fight some vicious foe whose name changed every time they were mentioned. “Vell, I’m zure you’fe vorked up guite ein abedite,” Kuchen told both Caramel and Judy, “and ve’re about to haffe lunch! Vould you care to choin us?” “That would be wonderful,” Judy said with a smile. “Please, lead the w—” “ACHTUNG! CHANGELINGS!” A mare, running as quick as she could on feeble legs, rushed up to the group. “You must stay avay from dem! Dey are changelings! I know! I zaw it vith mein own eyes!” Strudel laughed. “Ah, Reisling Wine, you zay the funniest dings, alvays vith your tall tales,” he countered. “But I know young Caramel, and I’m guite zure he knows his latyfriend fery vell. I am abzoludely zure dey are not changelings.” “But I zaw!” Reisling insisted. “I zaw dat she changed into ein hydra to knock down leaffes off the great oak near the cliffzide! Dere vas no one dere put her!” The mare stomped her foot in anger. “I know vat I zaw, Strudel!” “Come to think of it, there was a section where they were ahead of us,” another pony commented. Kuchen rolled her eyes. “Dere’s no hydras anyvere around here for hundreds of miles. You’re clearly misdaken.” “I know vat I zaw,” Reisling said once more, refusing to back down. “And it vill be on your heads if ve let changelings into dis town!” “This is crazy!” Caramel cried, then turned to Strudel. “You’ve known me for years, Mr. Strudel!” “Dis is true, I know him to be vho he zays he is.” But he looked over at Judy briefly, before gently asking the younger stallion, “But are you zure she is vho she zays she is?” Caramel was about to protest, until he saw his girl. She was shaking like a leaf, cowering into a ball. He knew she wasn’t a changeling – at least, he was fairly sure; Princess Twilight had warned him about the dangers of lotothosis, a coma-like condition caused by extreme exposure to a thymophage, and changelings were thymophages. No, had she been a changeling, he would have been in a coma, if not worse, by now. But why was she afraid? “No,” he told the older stallion. “She’s not. I know my Judy. She’s not a changeling, and I’m willing to stake my life on it.” “Did you hear dat?” Strudel told the others. “Zuch loffe and braffery! Jawohl! I belieffe him – I belieffe dem poth.” Looking to the other youngest stallion present, a pony still well fit despite his advanced age, Strudel insisted, “Run to the next town and condact deir Royal Mage. Ve vill need the changeling deteczion spell berformed on deze two to make zure.” The other pony nodded and ran off. “Wait, why do you need a magic spell if you believe me?” Caramel asked. “I am sorry, Caramel, but it needs be done,” Strudel told him. “Yeah, but … no, you’re right. I know,” he said, glaring at Reisling as he moved to Judy’s side, then nuzzled her for comfort. “I know.” The silvery magic enveloped both Caramel and Judy for only a couple of moments, the magic turning to a warm golden hue after a few seconds. A soft chime accompanied the change. “There, done!” a chipper young unicorn by the name of Bedazzle said. “All clear – they’re both ponies. Admittedly, Miss Judy has a much larger wellspring than the average pegasus, but that’s not exactly unheard of, and in any case not a crime.” “Vat does ein vellsbring haffe to do vith vether she's ein changeling or not?” Reisling demanded. “Oh, that’s easy,” Bedazzle replied. “You see, a pony’s magic wellspring, whether tiny as a newborn foal – well, for the first week or so, anyway – or as large as an alicorn, is always distinct and explainable by a pony’s soul. Every species has a different type of wellspring, including changelings. Therefore, it’s easy to tell, based on reading the wellspring, whether they’re changelings or not.” Strudel smiled, satisfied with the answer. “Dank you, Miss Betazzle.” “Oh, don’t thank me – thank Princess Twilight,” Bedazzle insisted. “Her highness held a symposium on the new detection spell last month, and I was there to learn it. It’s a vast improvement on the old one, which was made in a hurry for obvious reasons.” She then turned to Caramel and Judy and added, “Sorry for the inconvenience, but these old coots tend to worry about changelings, even though there haven’t been any recorded instances of changelings in the area since the attack on Canterlot.” “I know vat I zaw!” Reisling glared at them all. “Dey are changelings! At least, she is one!” “Dat’s enough from you, Reisling! Haffen’t you cauzed enough problems for one day?” Apfelbaum, now present as per town law, told her. The old mare stuck her tongue at them and ran towards her home, shouting back, “Dis vill be on your heads!” She then slammed the door to her home shut. “Ignore her, young ones,” Apfelbaum insisted. “Mein abologies to you for being inconffenienced. As far as I’m concerned, the vord of ein accredided Royal Mage is more dan enough for me.” “Thank you, sir,” Judy said. She was still clearly nervous, but at least had gotten some of her composure back after she’d been cleared by Bedazzle. She moved next to Caramel and nuzzled him, more for her comfort than his. “Vhy zo glum?” Strudel asked everyone. “Dis calls for ein banquet, ein great feast! Bleaze, you must stay, Miss Betazzle. And you, Caramel and Chudy, are the guests of honor!” It had been a long, long feast, and the night had gone by easily. Bedazzle had talked to Caramel and was slightly jealous that he was from Ponyville, the seat from which Princess Twilight ruled. From what Caramel could tell, Bedazzle had a bit of a crush on the bookish librarian-turned-tetrarch, and he wasn’t going to spoil any of her notions about Twilight given all he’d seen from her over the years. Besides, he thought as he saw Judy, much calmer now and talking to some of the mares her age who had been invited from Bedazzle’s village, he already had his attention on one mare and one mare alone. “You love her, don’t you?” Bedazzle asked him. “Yes, I do. Very much.” Bedazzle whispered, “Then you should know something. I didn’t say it around Miss Reisling, because she’s histrionic about those things, but ... the changeling spell isn’t foolproof, and it depends on who is casting it. A changeling queen, for example, could bypass a spell that I cast, but couldn’t do it if, say, Princess Twilight did. I’m fairly sure that Judy’s not one – given how she looks at you and how healthy you are, you’d have been in lotothosis if she was – but I thought you’d want to know just for the record.” Caramel blinked. He did not expect that. “Thank you for your candor,” was all he could say in response. At that point, Judy came up to him. “Mel, I want to dance! With my special somepony!” she cooed, and before he could object, she wrapped a wing around his foreleg and dragged him to the center area, where dozens of ponies were dancing to a band’s music. She moved and twirled with the grace of a ballerina and for Caramel, his woes were temporarily forgotten. It was well into the early hours of the morning by the time they’d returned to the guest room they were using at Apple Strudel’s home. He sat up in bed, thinking about Reisling’s warning and Bedazzle’s caution, and they gnawed on his mind. He knew without a doubt that Judy wasn’t a changeling; there were too many reasons to argue against it. And he loved her as much as she loved him. But there was still that nagging doubt, that metaphorical blade being slipped into his ribs, gowned in confusion and a tinge of despair…. “Mel? You awake?” he heard her ask. “Yeah, can’t sleep,” he admitted. “I know. It’s my fault. I’m sorry,” she said sadly, and it was an unusual tone for her. While she wasn’t exactly a happy-go-lucky Pinkie Pie type, she was nonetheless usually cheerful and bright. “I guess you want to know why I panicked this morning.” He didn’t say anything, but his silence was more than enough, and noting that, she continued. “Reisling ... she reminded me a lot of how my mother was. Always saying I wasn’t good enough, that I was useless for what I liked and because I wanted something different. I ... I got scared. I know I shouldn’t have, but I got scared.” He reached over and caressed her face, his hoof tracing a comforting path down her muzzle. “You know I’d never let nothing happen to you, Judy.” “I know, but old habits die hard, sweetheart.” She leaned over and nuzzled him. “Still, I’m glad you’re there for me.” The two kissed, and with that, snuggled closer together to get some sleep. Caramel read the letter once more to make sure that he was reading it right. Dear Caramel, Guess what? I told Old Mr. Bubbles about your trip, and he mentioned that he has an old summer home in Acapulcolt that he and his wife used to use a long time ago. Since you’re in Mexicolt right now, he said that you can use it, so I’m sending the keys to the place. He mentioned that it’s a great spot for the winter and that you’ll love it. It’s great to hear that you and Judy are a couple – I’d really like to meet her when you come back. Lilac Links stopped waiting for you and is dating Creme Brulee, and I think they make for an okay couple. Still, you’ve got Judy, and if she’s the mare for you, then I’m completely supportive of you, little brother. Also, I was talking to Applejack and Rarity the other day about your travels, when Rarity mentioned a mutual acquaintance of theirs, a travel writer named Trenderhoof. Given all the travelling you’ve done lately, I suggested to them that maybe you could write a travelog of your trip, and Rarity thought it would be a great idea; Applejack, for some reason, didn’t agree with her. Still, Rarity said she’d contact him on your behalf. Maybe if it works out, you’ll have an entirely new career! Wouldn’t that be grand? Well, we miss you and hope you come back soon! Hope to hear from you again! Love, - Bell Caramel looked at the keys in his hoof, and the road southward, continuing towards locations further beyond. To their right, the gleaming waters of the South Luna Ocean glittered in the afternoon sun. At the moment, they were in the town of Enseneighda, the gateway to the Mexicolt province of Equestria. It was a sleepy hamlet mostly populated by donkeys and the occasional pony, but nonetheless a good place for them to stock up on supplies and for Caramel to collect his mail. Looking at the mailpony who had just given him the letter, he asked, “Anything else we should know, sir?” “Nada mas, seňor,” the mailpony – actually a mailburro, to use the local vernacular – said in a slight Burroňeso accent local to the region. “Maybe some bugbears in the area, but they don’t bother nopony none, so long as you stay away from them. As for Acapulcolt, if you keep going down El Camino de la Princesa, you should reach it in another three days.” “Awesome! Thanks for your advice!” Caramel cheerfully commented. “Glad to help, seňor,” the donkey replied, waving towards them. “You take care now, okay?” Caramel trotted over to Judy, who was rearranging things in the cart and adding the supplies she’d just purchased. She noticed the wide smile on his face and asked, “Good news from home?” “Wonderful news,” he said, explaining Old Mr. Bubbles’ gift to them, as well as the potential chance of a new livelihood. Naturally, she reacted with utter glee. “Shall we get going, my dear?” he asked her. “Please, let’s!” she cooed, and with that, they headed towards Acapulcolt and beautiful winter together. Caramel woke up, the sun slipping through the blinds and making him turn away from the brightness while he blinked the glare away. Careful to not wake up the gently dozing beauty next to him, he silently walked towards the kitchen and made a pot of coffee while he rubbed his muzzle. The coat hairs there were starting to get a little long and dark, turning into stubble; he already looked as if he had a 5 O’Clock Shadow. A minute later, the coffee pot sang and he poured himself one, then sat down at the kitchen table and began to write. After all, his new job depended on it. Rarity had sent him a letter indicating that Trenderhoof was starting up a new travel magazine and was looking for a writer; a few days later, he’d received a contract, looked over by Princess Twilight as a courtesy, contracting him as a new travel writer. He and Judy had celebrated that, but things only got better from there. Last week, when the first issue of Wandering Hooves came out, Caramel’s story on their time in Acapulcolt was the highlight of the magazine. That made him an established writer, and that meant he had to plan out the rest of his trip before he headed back to Ponyville. A year was nearly on the way to passing, and he promised his sister that he’d return. But he couldn’t see himself settling down back in his home town. He actually liked living here in Acapulcolt and intended to ask Mr. Bubbles if he’d be willing to part with the home. He then felt two hooves encircle him, and a quick nip on the ear. “Mornin’, honey,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Hi, sweetie,” he replied as she went for the coffee and poured herself a cup. “What’re you working on?” “Just a plan for the rest of the trip, and places we should visit on the way back to Ponyville. A year’s almost up for me, and I promised Bell that I’d go back and let her know how I’m doing.” “I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Judy admitted. “If she’s anything like you, she must be a delightful mare to know.” She sat down in the seat next to him and looked over his list. Most of the denoted destinations were places unfamiliar to her, which she found exciting, as nothing made her happier than going to new places with her special somepony. But it was the third to the last one on the list, just before Berryville and finally Ponyville, that bothered her. “Highhaven?” She looked at him. “No, Mel. I don’t want to go back. It would be a waste of time, anyway – there’s nothing of interest there whatsoever.” He sighed; he knew he was going to meet with resistance just for suggesting it. “Don’t you want your family to know how you’re doing and that you’ve found somepony to love?” “No – no, if you ask me, I’d rather forget they exist and vice versa. Mel, there’s nothing I want from Highhaven and nothing that would ever draw me back. I just want to forget that place ever existed.” “But what if I want to see it? Not even just to visit your family, just visiting in general?” Caramel insisted. “That’s part of my new job now, hon. Finding and exploring new places that ponies might want to go to.” “No! You promised me we wouldn’t go there!” she countered. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” “It does, but….” He paused for a second, sniffed, and then asked, “Do you smell honey?” “You are not changing the subject, Caramel,” she argued. “No, seriously. And it’s strong, too.” Ignoring her pout, he left the kitchen table and went to the side door to see an absolute horror. The house next door, which was also a summer home like this one – and apparently not as meticulously maintained – was now being covered in honey and the makings of a hive, and not of the changeling variety, either. Huge bugbears darted to and fro, building the repeated hexagonal patterns of waxy honeycomb. The air began to buzz with the sound of flapping wings, interspersed with the ursine grunts of the bugbears. He turned to her. “Judy, we have to leave now,” he said, rushing over to her side. “No, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s so import—” She never finished the sentence as the side door and a portion of the wall exploded as something rammed into it, hard. Caramel and Judy turned to find a bugbear, floating in the air, an angry look on its face and its compound eyes focusing right on them. There was no way they could fight it, so Caramel did what his instincts naturally called for: Grabbing Judy’s hoof, he pulled her towards the front door, shouting, “RUN!”