//------------------------------// // 141 // Story: My Little Fortress: Dawnpick // by Paaaad //------------------------------// Friesden continued through the corridors, thinking. Falcata had put an idea into her head. The grate...Well...Maybe somepony would like it. Maybe it could be use- *OOF!* She bumped into something and fell down. With a shock, she got herself up and looked what she had bumped into - another pony. Germaine looks down at the familiar young mare. "Oh! Hello there, Friesden. What are you up to?" "Oh, um, hello lady Germaine!" Friesden says, happy to see another friendly face. "I...I made something," she continues, pointing to the grate. "I...I don't like it, but maybe somepony will." "I see..." Germaine examines the grate closely, noting the engravings along the bars. "So, you plan to sell it?" "I...I don't know," says Friesden. "I...I was going to talk to my father about it. I still don't know what to do about it." "Well... it's your creation, little one. I couldn't tell you what to do with it." Friesden continues on her way home, to tell Fauchard what had happened. The last few days had been a blur, but she was reasonably certain that she had left her father in the middle of a training session in...In the whatever it was that had caused her to make the grate. She continued walking home, and eventually came to the door, and hesitating for a second, knocked. “Dad?” she called after placing the grate down. “I...I’m home...” The door creaks open and Fauchard is standing there. His grandson Falchion hanging on his back and his granddaughter, Balisong, hiding behind his leg. “Friesden you’re home. You’re okay.” he hugs her. “I’m glad you’re back.” Friesden returns the hug gratefully. “I’m...I’m glad to be back.” What would he think of the grate...of the...the cutie mark... she wondered. Maybe he won’t notice? But she knew that was a false hope. Her father was the smartest pony she knew. Fauchard’s eyes turn to the object on the ground. It was some sort of decorative bone grate. “Is...is that the item that you made Friesden?” Friesden slowly nodded. “Y-y-yes, Dad...It...It is.” Please, please, please, please don’t say I should make more...Please? Fauchard levitates the object and inspects it She made...this? Out of bones? Is this... “It is very well made Friesden...do you remember making it? Sometimes ponies can’t remember making these things, when they get taken by one of these moods.” “I...I can remember...” whispers Friesden. She starts to shiver. Fauchard looks over Friesden, his mind racing, he notices the new cutie mark on her flank, a pair of ivory tusks. “And you got your cutie mark from it too...” Friesden just nods silently, words failing her. Noticing that they were still standing in the doorway Fauchard steps back inside. “Please come in, I left all your things right where they were, and brought your training sword back inside for you.” Falchion jumps off his grandfather’s back, flies a short distance, and lands on his aunt Friesden, Balisong runs back inside and starts chewing on one of her toys. Friesden smiles a bit at Falchion, but still dreads the idea she can feel is about to come. Please, dad, don’t make me do this...please... are her thoughts as she follows her father inside. “T-t-thank you, dad.” Fauchard takes a seat by his table. “So, I suppose we should talk about what happens next.” “I...I suppose,” Friesden replies as she takes a seat herself. Fauchard begins, “You certainly have a talent Friesden, for working with bone. You could do well for yourself in such a career, if that is what you would choose. And this town has no shortage of material for you to work with.” “I... I want to be like you, dad. I...I don’t like...I don’t like...I don’t like making things from...from bone...” Friesden says, a slight hint of despair coloring her voice. “Friesden...” Fauchard sighs, “I just want to see you be happy.” Falchion as if he could understand his aunt’s despair cuddles up with her. Fauchard continues, “You have a skill here, you could make, wonderful art, and...and you wouldn’t have to see the things that I...that you would have to see as a warrior.” “But...It’s...It’s bone...I...I...I...I don’t...I don’t like it,” she says, trying desperately not to tear up in front of her father. “I...I...I...I want to help ponies...Like you and brother and sister...” Fauchard looks down at the table as he says, “Friesden if you join the militia like your brother, then...you are going to have to often be around a lot of things much worse than the clean bones Totem works with.” “I...I...That’s why I wanted to train with you... I wanted...I wanted to be brave...” Friesden says, before the dam walls burst and the tears start pouring from her eyes. “I...I...I...I...I wanted to help,” she manages to choke out through the tears. Fauchard moves himself around the table and sits next to Friesden a foreleg wrapped around her. “If you don’t want to be a bonecarver, I’m not going to make you. You can do whatever it is that you want to do. I just think you should consider it.” Balisong stops chewing on her toy as Friesden begins to cry. With her magic she floats the spit covered toy over to Friesden offering it to her. Friesden sniffles a bit and tries to smile through the tears as she takes the toy. “T-t-t-t-thank you, Bali,” she says, still sniffling. “I...I don’t know what I want, dad...” “Then you don’t need to decide today. You can keep up with your training, until you know what you want to do.” “O-o-o-o-o-okay,” Friesden says, finally managing to stem the tears. “T-t-t-t-t-t-thank you, dad,” she continues as she gives her father a hug. Fauchard continues to hold his daughter, “So, have you decided what you will do with the bone grate?We don’t exactly have need of one around the house.” “I...I...I was going to...to sell it...And...and buy a real sword...” Friesden says. “A real sword?” Fauchard stops and looks over his daughter, she wasn’t the same little filly he had first met when he arrived here, she had grown so much since then, perhaps she really was ready, “That... is a very good idea.” as any father would, he had his concerns, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He knew he had taught her much in their time together, and she had potential, that was plain to see, he would support her in this decision. “R-really?” says Friesden hopefully. Maybe she wasn’t such a silly filly after all... “The...The only thing is...” she continues ruefully... “I...I don’t know where I would buy the sword or sell this...or even how much it’s worth...” Fauchard thinks to himself quietly and looks over at the grate again, “Well I couldn’t appraise it myself, but Lady Virtue might be willing to buy it from you, and I think she would give you a fair price, and we have a weaponsmith in town that can forge you a sword. I haven’t seen him make any before, but he’s made wonderful axes and bolts, for the militia, and other blades for the town. Or I could get you one made in the capital and delivered by a future caravan, but that could take up to a year, or more.” “I...I...I think I might talk to Virtue. She’s a nice pony.” Fauchard stands up again. “I think you should, but that can wait till later. I think the foals missed you and want to play.” Friesden smiled. “I think I want to, too.” And so they did.