//------------------------------// // In Which Starlight Glimmer Meets a Pair of Trixie Lulamoon’s Old Acquaintances // Story: Two Mares and a Carpet Bag // by Icenrose //------------------------------// Day 11: Trottingham The sun had just touched the broad horizon behind them as the Essence of Bergamot docked in Trottingham Harbor. Starlight and Trixie said their protracted goodbyes, the whole crew wishing them well on their journey as they went ashore. At first glance, Trottingham was much like Ponyville. Starlight noted that the buildings were generally taller, and the town was certainly more expansive and more densely populated, but the aesthetic was similar enough that if she turned her back to the sea, it almost felt like home. It was only after they walked the streets of the town proper that the major differences became apparent. For starters, Ponyville didn’t have a lighthouse, nor did it have a cluster of refineries and smelters casting a permanent veil of smog over a wide swath of the town. Many of the gabled wooden roofs sheltered wide, doorless openings, reminding Starlight forcibly of birdhouses. Perhaps most glaringly, a major driving force of the economy appeared to be dead fish. And, of course, there was the constant presence of griffons. Starlight had never seen a griffon up close before. She didn’t much like the piercing nature of the glances griffon passersby gave her, and the click of talons against the cobblestone street raised the hair on the back of her neck as they walked past. It was difficult for her to keep from shrieking as she watched one purchase a particularly large fish from an open-air market stall – from a pony, no less – and tear into its flesh with apparent relish. Feeling more than a little ill, Starlight kept pace with Trixie, who seemed unphased by the gruesome display as she chattered on about her previous visits to the bustling island community. The duo hastened to the sky dock up the hill from the harbor, and learned from the pegasus dockmaster that the Hoofaestus was not due in until the following afternoon, and would not be departing until the morning after that. Dejected, they looked out over the town as the red and gold landing lanterns were lit around the sky dock towers, and the brass gas lamps along the main streets flared to life, limning the roads with a comfortable glow. “Well, now what?” Starlight asked. “Find a steamship that leaves in the morning?” “No,” Trixie shook her head, “the nearest port from here without going backwards is Suet, and I don’t like what Heavy Sails said about pirates.” “We could try going north,” Starlight offered, but she realized her foolishness as soon as she said it. “And try our luck in Bug Bear territory?” Trixie said incredulously. “We’re not that desperate yet, friend! And I stand by what I said – the fastest way to Saddle Arabia is southeast through Griffonstone.” She set off back the way they had come. “C’mon, I know a little place we can rent a room for cheap.” Trixie led the way to a seedy brownstone three-story building off the main harbor road named Hope’s Refuge Inn & Tavern. The ancient wooden door’s hinges shrieked in protest as the pair walked in, and they were greeted by a wall of noise. Starlight looked around the crowded common room at the mixed bag of patrons – ponies, griffons, sailors, dockhooves, lamplighters, foundry workers – all united by the common goal of getting trashed on whatever was handy. They were a rowdy, rough-and-tumble bunch, laughing and cursing and shouting outlandish tales at one-another. It was a decidedly different environment from what she was used to, and as much as she wanted to keep an open mind, her stomach began to clench. Her unease turned to shock when she saw a pair of young dragons as tall as she was tending the bar. Her hooves rooted her in place, muzzle agape. Her jaw fell further still when Trixie greeted them like old friends. “Scorn! Bellows! You whelplings finally manage to get your claws on some decent wine?” She marched up to the bar as though she owned the place, a still-gawping Starlight in tow. Bellows, the brown one, snapped his reptilian gaze up at his name, and his face split into a broad, toothy grin. “Trixie Lulamoon, y’crazy wench! What new hell have y’brought t’me door?” “Oh, you know, traveling around the world to spite a princess and win a wager for more bits than you’ve ever seen in your short, sheltered life.” Trixie pretended to examine her hoof. “The usual.” Scorn, the copper one, blew a plume of smoke out his nostrils. “A likely story,” he grumbled as he jerked a claw over his shoulder towards the back wall of the bar. “Y’can set up inna corner. No funny business, eh? Ah dinnae wan’ tae hafta pay fer anoother window.” “Adorable as always, Scorn.” Trixie smiled, then headed back to clear away all but one chair from a table. Starlight followed, shaking her head in a vain attempt to catch up with reality. “You threw somepony through a window the last time you were here?” Trixie’s face fell. “Um, not exactly.” She didn’t elaborate as she pulled out a deck of cards and started shuffling. “Keep an eye on the crowd, will you?” It was a productive night as Trixie – with a little help from Starlight, once she stopped flinching at every loud noise – performed card tricks, table magic, and other sleight-of-hoof feats of legerdemain late into the night. By the time the last drunkard was shoveled out the door, they had earned themselves enough bits to rent a surprisingly homey room for the next two nights.