An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

133 - Of Stout Hearts and Golden Oaks

Extended Holiday
Ch 133: Of Stout Hearts and Golden Oaks
Act 21

---

“This … makes no sense at all. He isn’t in the forge, or his office, or the cellar. Are there any other places we could search?” Pensword asked. “This is very much unlike him.”

“He never appeared on the battlefield, either. Last I checked, he would have been the first to go after Chrysalis, once he knew she was here,” Vital noted.

“So, Changelings, Hammer Strike missing, and it’s a Tuesday. Again.” Pensword sighed. “I fear that the death of Chrysalis may have been part of her plans.” He stopped and shook his head. “But that’s impossible. Hammer Strike couldn’t be with her hive. His flames make him untouchable, and he can overpower Chrysalis easily.” He sighed again. “I’m going to retire to my quarters with the foals. Maybe the answer will come to us, if we stop banging our heads against the wall. Also, congratulations on the future wedding, Vital. It seems you’ve gone native, after all.”

“Let’s just hope the folks are understanding about it back home,” Vital chuckled nervously.

“Unfortunately, my own investigation has turned up dry,” Luna said as she joined the pair in the hall. “From all accounts, he’s not been seen since one Silent Collector killed a drone that made it past the lanterns.”

Pensword screeched to a halt. “A Changeling? I’ll have a talk with Me-Me as soon as I can. If the lanterns are losing their effectiveness, perhaps she can develop a solution.” He snorted and shook his mane. “I just don’t like it.” Then his brow furrowed further. “There is another possibility, though it’s one I hate to consider,” he admitted. “What about time travel? It would explain why he’s suddenly disappeared.”

“What is it with him and time?” Luna asked, shaking her head ruefully.

“I don’t know,” Pensword answered, “but it’s getting annoying.”

“Maybe.” Luna smirked. Her look seemed almost hopeful. “It might be important, though.”

“It always is important in the past, it seems.”

“From what I understand, your actions in the past are what helped shape our present. Without you three, nothing would be what it is today,” Vital pointed out.

“Only for the Third Gryphon War with Grif and I. I’m still finding Hammer Strike all over history.”

“Speaking of Grif, where is he?” Luna asked.

---

Grif normally wouldn't be doing this, but seeing as it was literally the only room in the fort that was left unchecked, he made his way to his lord’s bedroom, the room that hardly ever got used, due to Hammer Strike’s insomnia. The Earth Pony was was more likely to nap at his desk or in the forge than this place. Still, as noted, it had been the final place to check.

“Hammer Strike?” he called as he entered.

“Not here. Not here. Not here,” whispered in echoes through the room. “All my fault. Why? Why does it always have to be my fault?” A child’s cry, an angry man’s rant. The two danced one with another.

“Hello?” Grif called as he approached the direction the sound was coming from. “Who’s in here?”

A sniffle came, then a sob. “Figures now he hears me,” the voice complained again, followed by another heavy sniffle. “Wonder if this falls under big sis or big brother?” The voice hiccuped and a dim outline wavered in the corner of the room.

“Hey, kid. Wherever you are, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. The Changelings are gone.” Grif attempted to comfort the child as he approached.

“So’s Hammer Strike.” Gone was the voice of the child. A deep, rumbling voice had replaced it, not unlike Sombra’s, though it held no malice to it.

“Okay, that’s it. In Njord’s name, reveal yourself, spirit,” Grif said, hoping the one name would be enough.

“M’not a spirit,” the sulky child’s voice returned. Grif heard the flutter of wings. “And I can’t control if you see me or not. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Well I can hear you, so lets start there. What are you, and how do you know about Hammer Strike?”

“I am Chance.” The two voices echoed together. “Hammer Strike should have told you about me and my family already.”

“Great. An embodiment,” Grif sighed. “Look, Chance, I need to know where he is.”

Chance sniffled. “You’ll need more than where. Dad was trying to help him lay low for a while. One of my siblings was really mad at him. I came to say goodbye, but … well, I can’t change what I am. Dad just wanted to nudge him forward a little. I … I didn’t mean to. Honest, I didn’t.” The voice had begun to tremble again.

“Easy, kid. Easy. Just tell me what happened. Nobody’s gonna punish you here.”

Two voices, one breathy, one husky, took a stuttering breath. “A-all right. It … went like this….”

---

Hammer Strike grumbled to himself as he looked through his arsenal. He was preparing for war, and this time he’d make Chrysalis regret it.

“Hey there, Sport,” a familiar voice said as a hoof clapped him on the shoulder.

Hammer Strike sighed, having barely reined in the urge to immediately punch Father Time, due to the sudden interaction. “I hate not being able to hear you guys when you appear,” he muttered. “So, what brings you around? And … why the sudden change of tribe?”

Father time furrowed his brow, his new horn curling in a spiral as it jutted out from his head. Fortunately, the stallion still kept the same sweater vest, shirt, and tie. Even his coat retained the same glossy brown coloration. “I’m Time. I can change sometimes.” He shrugged. “Those foals playing with their Tardie-whatsits say it best. ‘Time can be rewritten.’ My form changes sometimes, but I’m still Father Time.” Then his face scrunched into a frown. “But we're not here to talk about me. Let me be frank, son. We may have hit a bit of a snag.”

“And that snag would be…?”

“Well … Destiny found a loophole,” Father Time sighed. “Since your name’s not in Death’s scrolls, technically, that means you don’t have the same protection anyone in those scrolls does, and she was talking with War. Long story short, she figured out a way to kill you.”

Hammer Strike stared blankly at Father Time. “Well. That’s gonna be interesting to deal with.”

“Yeah. Thing is, this isn’t like most times. If you go out there, you’re going to die,” Father time said bluntly.

“Then what am I supposed to do, sit by, and let everyone else go fight? What kind of leader would I be, if I did that?”

“Oh, the fight’s been decided, believe me. It’s going to be fine.” Father Time shook his head. “You just need to be absent long enough for her to be unable to fulfill what she’s planed.”

Hammer Strike gave a faint growl. “And how are we to go about that?”

“We’re going to send you forward in time three days.”

“And there’s no other way to go about this?”

“We’ve checked a hundred and ninety three other possibilities.”

After a few minutes of pent up silence, Hammer Strike sighed. “Fine. Just ... fine. Go ahead and do it.”

Time nodded. “Okay, then. Just stay perfectly still. This part’s more than a little tricky.” His horn lit up. “Seriously, one small change could send everything topsy turvy.”

“Dad, Sis sent me to ask what’s taking so long!” a child’s voice broke through the air, and Time’s eyes widened.

“Chance, you’re not supposed to be here!” But it was too late. Light flashed, the color of the magic changed, and the forces of time took hold. Hammer Strike vanished in a flash of light. “That’s … not good.”

Chance trembled as he gaped from the empty spot to Time, then back again. “Dad,” he said hoarsely, “… what did I just do?”

---

“I didn’t mean to, h-honest.” Wet drops specked the ground beneath where the distortion sat, and the longer Grif started, the clearer the image of a young Alicorn foal became. His two sides couldn’t have been any more different, the one sweet and innocent, the other dark and foreboding. Both the feathered and bat wing wrapped around his body as he trembled and sobbed.

“Accidents happen,” Grif told him as he approached. “Do you know when Hammer Strike was sent to?”

“I … I can’t tell you directly. If I do that, Sis’ll find out, and then she’ll try again. All I can do is this.” The embodiment walked up a set of invisible stairs to stand in the air above Grif, and then lowered his horn to touch the Gryphon’s forehead. It glowed with a bright light for a time, and Grif’s head was suddenly assaulted by images: a swaying oak tree, a young green filly with swinging yellow pigtails, timberwolves, and a familiar rainbow-colored apple. Chance cried out as he flew backwards, then dropped to the ground, where he slumped in exhaustion. “That’s the best I can do. If I tried any more, … well, let’s say the longer I try, the worse things go when they turn bad.”

“Hey, I have all I need. There’s a chance. Now I just need to go for it.” He walked over to the foal and patted his head gently. “Hang in there, little guy. Nothing’s decided yet.”

“I know there’s me. That’s why I’m here.” Chance sighed. “Just … just bring him back safely, okay? Dad says he’s too important.”

“Hey, if you know anything about me, you know I won’t let him get away that easily. He’s got to rule this stupid place.”

Chance giggled. “You know, Grif, you might just do it. I’ll be rooting for you,” the foal promised as he started to fade. “Oh, and don’t forget to bring the others!”

“I won’t,” Grif chuckled. “Later, little guy.” With that, Grif left the room and made a beeline for Pensword’s office. It was time to get the gang together.

---

“You sure he’s gonna be okay, Ma?” The tiny green filly hovered worriedly over the stallion as he lay on the bed. His body had been positively covered with scars.

A set of pale yellow forelegs wrapped around the filly, and she looked up to see her mother’s kindly smile and wavy red hair. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine, m’little sugar apple.” She nuzzled the foal at the base of her two pigtails. “He just needs some time to rest is all. Let him be for now. Your pa’ll be back any minute with those healing herbs of his, and then we can get this Pony right as rain again.”

“I sure hope so,” the filly sighed as she looked back at the stranger.

Said stallion gave a faint groan as he started opening his eyes. “What hit me?” He asked huskilly as he moved a hoof to his head.

The mare started for a moment, the walked up to the stallion’s side. “Fraid we haven’t the foggiest. Can you remember anything about what happened before you collapsed?”

The stallion rubbed his head as he thought to himself, only to shake it, then wince. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” the mare tutted. “Are you hungry? We don't have much, but we’ll gladly share what we can.”

“I couldn’t.” He frowned as he continued thinking to himself. It didn’t feel right.

“You most certainly could. We’re not letting you out of that bed, until you’re properly recovered. End of story, mister,” the mare said as her eyes became flinty and she stomped her hoof authoritatively on the floor.

“I….” He looked at her one more time. “Alright,” he sighed. He was too tired to argue, anyways.

“Good. Now my name’s Bobbin Smith.” She motioned to the filly at her side. “This here’s my daughter, Caramel Granny Smith. What’s your name?”

“It’s….” His frown deeped as he furrowed his brow in concentration. “I ... can’t recall.”

Bobbin nodded clinically. “If I had to guess, I’d say you had a pretty good bump on the noggin. I’ve met a few Ponies that’ve been through the same thing. Just take it easy for now. We’re a bit far from a doctor, but we know how to take care of our own. We can talk about payment after you’re feeling a little better.” She turned to the filly. “Caramel, dear, could you go fix up some porridge for our guest?”

Caramel grinned and nodded vigorously. “And how!”

Bobbin chuckled to herself as she watched the filly race off. “She’s such a good girl.”

---

Pensword was rooting around in a bag as they sat around the combat table. “So, we’re waiting on Grif’s report….” He smirked, offering a sidelong glance at Vital Spark. “How does it feel having a wedding on the horizon?”

Vital Spark blushed violently. “Pensword, you’ve been there. You know what I’m going through right now.”

“Yes, I’ve been there, which means I can help with anything you may be going through, be a guide of sorts, if you want.” He took a drink from his canteen. “Besides, if I’m not giving you advice, you’ll be getting it from all the the other mares and stallions around here. Just watch out for the Pegasi. I think a wedding tradition for them is how much of a prank they can pull off on newly engaged couples.”

“I swear, if Rainbow tries pranking me, I’ll freeze her in an ice block,” Vital growled.

“Oh, I expect that. But I should warn you. Some Pegasi are more subtle. Just be on your guard.” Pensword smiled unsettlingly.

Vital glared at the commander. “Pensword, you do realize Clover has been teaching me all manner of spells, right? And there are so many ways to get back at a Pony without killing them.”

“Yes, which is why I really want you to be warned, and to let it go. Then again, with Trixie, I cannot fathom what will be coming to pass.” He returned to rooting about in the pack as he tossed out a series of items, including a clam shell, some beads on a string, stray wires, and a wad of silly putty, before he crowed in triumph. “Aha!” He pulled out what looked to be a brass candlestick, except for the little glowing crystal that seemed to have been glued there. It changed from red to orange to blue to clear, then yellow, fluctuating regularly as it offered its light, much like a candle would have. He frowned as he pointed a small tool up in the air, looking very silly doing so. “Did anypony else remember how to call the Doctor? Or Dinky? Or any time travelers for that matter? Because frankly, I’m worried I’m doing it wrong. Then again, maybe I’ve got this thing pointed the wrong way.”

“Turn it off, Pensword.” Grif’s voice cut through the room as he entered with Luna flanking him. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Turn it off? Why?” Pensword put the candlestick onto the table. When he moved his hoof away, it began to cast a series of colored lights over the walls.

“We need to talk. Turn it off,” Grif said bluntly.

Pensword blinked. “I can’t. It was going when I pulled it out, so ... wait. If it was going in the bag, then….” He started banging his head on the table. “Just continue on, Grif, while I try to cope with the fact I was pranked by The Doctor.”

Grif let that pass. He took his seat at the table and tented his talons together as he leaned forward to peer at each of his companions. “So, the good news is we know where Hammer Strike is.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s a but, however, and/or unfortunately coming on?” Vital asked.

Grif nodded to Luna, who set a book down on a nearby table. She flipped it open to a page on Ponyville’s history. “I have no idea how we all missed this.” He gestured to a sketch labeled Golden Oak. The Pony bore a striking resemblance to Hammer Strike, right down to the missing chunk of ear as he stood in front of a positively titanic oak tree. Its trunk was incredibly wide, practically consuming the background as its leaves framed the equine, granting him more of a dignified appearance.

“Not to rub salt in the wound, but do you mean we all or you all?” Vital asked.

“I mean we all. Pretty sure we’ve all gone through this book before.”

“I just thought it was similar body shape and the like. You know, like how we find folks that look similar to historical figures?” Pensword answered weakly.

“So, judging by the fact this is a history book, and the fact you’re saying we missed this, I’m assuming we have to come up with some sort of rescue plan, which likely includes asking The Doctor for help.”

“We need another method of time travel,” Luna sighed.

“I concur,” Pensword agreed. “Maybe we can find a Delorean?”

“I do not know what this Delorean is,” Luna noted.

“A reference to a movie from back home involving time travel. Picture a Ponyless chariot with four wheels powered by a system that moves it forward or backward with the strength of hundreds of Ponies to reach great speeds on the ground, includes a completely sheltered interior, and is capable of traveling through time, once it reaches exactly eighty-eight miles per hour, provided it has enough energy,” Vital explained.

“That makes no sense. If time travel were so simple, would not every Pegasus be zipping through time with the greatest of ease?”

“That’s why it’s called science fiction, Luna. It’s not supposed to make sense. They just made the rules up to suit the story, and make it appear more scientific than it actually was.”

“Then how would that help us in this situation?”

“I believe Pensword was making a joke. Either that, or more of Matthew’s consciousness is bleeding into the Pensword persona,” Vital shrugged.

“Anyway, we know when and where, and that is where our problem starts,” Grif noted.

“Starts?” Vital raised a questioning brow.

“We are going back in time three hundred years to an Earth Pony time that, by most accounts, had only one not very well respected Unicorn family living there. We are a Gryphon, a Thestral, and a Unicorn,” Grif noted.

“In other words, we’d either need a legitimate excuse to be there or some form of disguise,” Vital concluded. “Glamour spell?”

“You and Luna will have to discuss that,” Grif noted.

“I figure we can come up with something,” Vital agreed. “Worst case scenario, we can use Hammer Strike’s credit with The Doctor to get some device to help.”

“I can help on weather patrols, I guess, so that works for me. Grif, aren't you a monster hunter? That could be your cover story, especially with the Everfree so close by.” Then he looked to Vital. “And no, Vital Spark. I am Pensword, and I am Matthew. We are one and the same.”

“No more split mentality?”

“Yes. No more splits. It was a crutch, a coping mechanism for all the blows I took in the war. After all that trauma defining my life as Pensword, the shock of the older memories had trouble reincorporating. Thankfully, I’m all better now.” Pensword smiled cheerfully. “Perfectly fit for duty.”

“Okay, everybody,” Grif cut in, “get your gear. Make sure everything's covered, and try to get your bits traded for Celestial bits. Luna wasn’t on the coin at the time. I’ll work on getting The Doctor. Meet back at zero eight hundred, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Pensword said.

“I’ll see if Clover can’t help me set up a proper list of spells appropriate for the time period,” Vital said. “You want us to pack rations, too?”

“Probably a good idea. Enough for three days, okay?” Grif checked.

“Weapons?”

“Not for you two. I can justify them, and Luna can probably make an identity that would explain it.”

“Wait, no weapons at all?” Pensword balked. “Not even a tomahawk?”

“I’m actually kinda surprised there, too. I thought weapons would be a common thing for a settler Pony to have in new undeveloped lands,” Vital said.

Grif shook his head. “No. Tools that can be used as weapons were common. Weapons themselves were expensive, and rarely worth paying for, unless they were a part of your job.”

“Well, guess that just leaves me with magic and wits,” Vital mused. “Unless I can pull a Gandalf with a focus that’s not so ornate as Watcher.”

“A tomahawk was a tool and a weapon,” Pensword argued.

“Better to make it a hatchet, Pensword. It may be closer to the modern day, but I’m guessing Ponies were still pretty scared of Thestrals back then,” Vital noted.

“But Thestrals use the Tomahawk as a hatchet.”

“Vital’s got it right,” Grif nodded. “Besides, you’re not a Thestral. You’re a Pegasus, for the time being.”

Pensword sighed. “I guess, but it had better be a good hatchet, then. A Hammer Strike hatchet.”

“That might not be the best idea, Pensword. A legitimate Hammer Strike product would probably raise more than a few eyebrows, not to mention paint a target on your back. They’re more common today, but back then, they were worth a fortune for their rarity,” Vital said.

“Understood,” Pensword answered. “Still, I’m going to face a lot of stuff, more than a Gryphon with a writ from the Princesses. I’m a halfbreed. That’s going to put a target on my back from just about everywhere and everyone at once. I doubt I’ll get to keep anything, anyway, once I settle in.”

“If you want, I could see about enchanting your things with a spell to ensure they return to you. That way, no one can get away with stealing from you.”

“We shouldn’t bring anything we’re not going to need. If you want me to keep a weapon for you, Pensword, I will, but let's keep things simple, okay?” Grif asked.

“A tomahawk and a bow,” Pensword agreed.

“Pensword, one or the other. I can’t keep your arrows and my arrows and a bow. I’ll keep the tomahawk for you, though.”

“Thank you.”

“So, am I allowed to bring Watcher, or should I use something simpler?” Vital asked.

“Has Clover taught you to summon it to you?”

“We talking portals or flying to my side when I call it?”

“Can you do either?”

“Not sure about the full range of the application, but the tests in class allowed me to call it to me from across the room, at least. I don’t know what’d happen at a greater distance, but I’m guessing it’ll still come.”

“Then bring it, but keep it hidden, unless you actually need it.”

“You got it, boss. Anybody else coming on the mission?”

Grif shook his head. “It’s going to be hard enough to justify the four of us arriving as coincidence to begin with. Play this close to the chest. Don’t tell anyone who doesn’t need to know. I need to head into Ponyville to get a few things. Any other questions?”

“Nope. I’d say we’re just about set. I’ll see about getting the kitchens to prep those supplies.” Vital gave a quick salute and trotted out the door. “See ya!”

“I shall return to Canterlot and inform Celestia about what’s going on. I’ll be back when necessary.” And then Luna was gone in a flash of light.

“I will see you soon. I’d like to spend what time I have left with my foals, and hopefully my wives, before we depart.” With that said, Pensword took his leave as well.

Grif nodded his approval and began his journey. As he finally made it outside to fly, one thought constantly stabbed at the back of his mind. He reallyhoped he could find what he’d need to pull this off.

---

Golden Oak, the name given to him from the tree the Smith family had found him next to, as well as his light tan coat and brown mane. He gave a faint smile as he looked to the set of carpentry tools available to him. While he was staying with the family, he determined his talent had to be something involving a type of craftstallion’s hammer. After some trial and error, he was able to figure out his ability to work with wood. His past was still a mystery, but from his appearance, he almost didn’t want to know.

The first time he looked in a mirror, he recoiled at the sight. He looked as though he’d been through Tartarus and back. All he had on him was a blue-and-gold overcoat with incredibly deep pockets, a dress shirt and vest, and a cravat with a small additional lump in the knot that he couldn’t get out. Considering the craftsmanship of the regalia, they thought he might have been a noble of some kind, but the combined factors of scarring and being an Earth Pony made the option highly unlikely.

He shook his head to clear it. There was no time to reminisce. He noted idly how he had a problem of losing himself in thought, then returned to the task at hand. At the moment, he had work to do. He grabbed a few of his tools, then moved towards one of the worktables with a door leaning against it. It was too tall, causing the wood to grind faintly against the doorframe, making it difficult to open and close the door properly.

It didn’t take much work to cut the door down and sand the wood smooth. He hummed to himself as he finished his task, before flipping the door onto his back to carry back to the house. Part of him felt happy to work, to give back to those who had helped him, but another part of him wanted to do more. He was zoned out to the world, a smile on his face, humming a tune as he trotted back up to the house’s entrance. He realigned the door to its hinges, pulled the pins out of his bag, and began the process of putting everything back in order, tapping his hammer to the rhythm of his humming. Thanks to his height and strength, it didn’t take much effort.

Caramel approached with a wooden bucket and a ladle clenched in her teeth. She lowered it to the ground and beamed up at the stallion. “You did a mighty fine job,” she complimented. “Have a drink. Ma figured you’d be needin’ it.”

Golden Oak smiled softly as he took hold of the bucket. “How’s your father doing with the expansion?”

“Oh, everything’s goin’ swell!” Caramel beamed up at him. “Pa’s already got my brothers working the plow to get the soil ready for the seeds. He’s got just about every seed in Equestria in that pouch of his, so even if some of the crops don’t work out, we should still have enough to stay us for the winter.”

“Wish I could help out with that, but … from what we’ve learned, I’m not too good with crops,” he commented, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re pretty strong, though,” she pointed out. “Maybe you can help, if we run into some big rocks we need to move?”

“Hopefully,” he smiled. “All right, I should get back to it. Still have to fix a few more doors.”

“Ma should have those new clothes ready for you soon, too,” she promised. “I’ll come by again, when they’re ready. Give us a holler, if’n you need anything, okay?”

Golden Oak smiled as he reached down and ruffled the filly’s mane with a hoof. “Can do.”

---

“I shouldn’t be surprised you had this on hand, and yet I am,” Grif told Rarity as he moved experimentally in the long black coat, testing it’s fit and mobility. It was made of a more rugged material than he was used to the fashionista using: thick and hardy, designed for long stretches of travel and inclement weather. It had slits in the back for his wings and several dozen more pockets than the average coat would. The only things that weren’t black were the silver buttons she’d sewn on the front, shining like specks of moonlight. “I don’t suppose you had a wide brim black hat to go with it? Possibly a serviceable scarf?”

“Grif, I’m a fashion designer. Of course I have scarves and hats to spare.” Her horn ignited and a series of Pony busts levitated into the room, each bearing their own combination of scarf and hat to choose from. “Take your pick.”

“You know, I’m surprised you carry some of the simpler designs,” the Gryphon admitted as he pulled one of the busts out of the lineup. It held a black leather hat with a wider brim that looked almost looked shingled with the way the stitching criss-crossed, forming neat little rectangles. The hat had a simple brown leather strip ringing it near the base. The scarf was also black, and simplistic in design, so much so that Grif thought for a minute. “Can you put something on the front? Preferably some sort of holy symbol. The denomination shouldn’t matter in this case.”

“First of all, one of the greatest secrets of fashion is taking the simple and making it extravagant,” Rarity pointed out as she levitated the rest of the busts back into their store room. “Those were all born from my Mysterious Mare Do Well design, back when Rainbow had a bit too big of an ego trip. I like to keep a few spares for those customers that like to add an air of mystique to their wardrobe. As for your symbol, I’m not exactly familiar with any, but I’m sure I can find something, if you give me a little time.”

“I have to go see the jeweler next about some amulets, seeing as, surprisingly, Ponyville doesn’t seem to have a Faustian or Sleipnirian church. If I come back in two hours, can you have it ready?” Grif asked, even as he silently thanked the winds he could make his own holy water.

“Assuming I can find the references. I’ll stop by the library. Twilight’s bound to have a volume somewhere in there that I can use.”

“I appreciate it.” Grif waved as he left the shop, a large bag of bits landing next to the mare’s cash register. He didn’t look back or stop, knowing better than to stay for the Unicorn’s reaction. He made his way to Ponyville's jeweler. This time, he could kill two birds with one stone at least. “Sparkler?” he called as he entered the shop, bells chiming behind him.

“Yes, Grif?” Sparkler asked as she stepped from the back room. A jeweler’s lense floated idly in her magic, and her purple mane had been recently brushed to shine in the light from the shop’s window. Her cutie mark seemed almost to glitter as she rose up onto the countertop to address the new customer. “How can I help you today? Getting something for the wives, perhaps? Or do you need help appraising another gem you dug up?”

“First off, do you sell Sleipnirian and/or Faustian amulets, preferably cast in silver, silverite, or sunstone?”

Sparkler frowned. “I’m guessing you need it soon, right? Those are always on special order, but they’re usually made by the holy orders and sold at their places of worship.”

“Just tell me how many bits your boss makes you up the price. I’ve talked with jewelers before, Sparkler, and I’m in a hurry, so I won’t haggle. Just give me the price,” Grif chuckled dryly.

Sparkler nodded meekly. “I thought you’d be in a hurry. The price is a hundred bits normally, but since this is a rush job….”

“200, if he needs it fast!” an older stallion’s voice shouted from the back room. Sparkler’s ear flicked, and she smiled, even as her eye twitched. “He doesn’t know who’s in the room. Of course you’ll get the monster hunting discount.”

“I’ll give you four hundred bits each, if the silver’s been purified to standard, and six, if they’re sunstone,” Grif said as he dropped a large bag of bits on the counter.

Sparkler nodded as she gaped at the sack. “I’ll see if I can get ahold of any priests from Canterlot. Like I said before, we don’t carry holy artifacts here. They may in Gryphonia, but not in Equestria.”

“You’re telling me amulets for an Equestrian faith aren't made in Equestria?”

“They’re made by the holy orders in monasteries or local cathedrals.”

“Can you have them ready before you close tonight?” Grif pressed.

“I’ll do my best. We may need to ask Twilight for help, though, to get the pieces in time.”

“Okay, second problem. Where’s your father? Don’t give me the speech he gave you. The thing he gave Pensword doesn’t even go ding for Winds’ sake! Since when has your father made anything that doesn’t go ding, if he could help it?”

“Oh, the old candlestick prank.” Sparkle sighed. “He should be coming around soon. Trixie just ascended, right? That should draw him back around either tonight or tomorrow, if the records are accurate. You know how it goes. He comes when he’s needed, not when you want him.”

“Tell him Grif’s calling in a Hammer Strike priority favor, okay?”

“Oh, one of those problems, is it? I’ll see what I can do. It’ll have to wait till I’m on break, though. You know how long the number can be to call, and it’s even longer when you have to do the incantations to pass the message through time and space in the first place.”

“If they’re not buying, then get back here and help me with this necklace, Sparkler. I’m not paying you to gab with the customers,” the old stallion snapped.

“Sir,” Grif shouted back, “you’re interfering with royal business. I’ve already paid for what I need, and if you don’t want the guard in here asking why you’re using knock-off Saddle Arabian sand pearls, then kindly shut the buck up!”

The satisfying crash and skitter of metal and gems on the ground carried back, followed by a despairing cry and the desperate scramble of hooves.

Grun turned back to Sparkler, his beak set in a grim line. “Sorry about that. Things are rather tense, after what happened. Look into those amulets for me. If that stallion gives you any trouble about anything else, let me know. I need to see the herbalist and several other people yet, before the shops close. We good?”

“We’re good. I’ll try to make contact on my next break. I can’t make any other guarantees, but I’ll try to get him to give you something you can really use for an emergency.” She chuckled. “Though, if you don’t mind, I might stop by later. I missed that old toy, and I wouldn’t mind paying to get it back.”

Grif chuckled. “You’re a good kid, Sparkler. Say hi to your mother for me.” He gave her a nod. “I seriously hope Roseluck and her sisters have black orchids and blood lilies.” And with that, he left the shop to go to another in a dozen stores on his list.

---

“Oak!” Caramel called to the first Pony she saw as she darted out from the Everfree. A large handkerchief had been tied around her neck, with several bulges bouncing across her back. “Help!” Quite suddenly, several large figures darted from the trees after the filly. It took Golden Oak a second to make out the large fearsome wooden wolves. The only thing Golden could find at hoof was an axe that had been embedded into a nearby log. He grabbed the tool and yanked it out of the log without a single thought, then galloped out to the filly.

The lead wolf pounced just as Caramel raced by the stallion, and was rewarded by a powerful downward chop that cleaved its head straight off. Without a thought or a show of effort, Golden Oak pulled the axe away and swung it into the underbelly of a second wolf. Next, he used his momentum to turn and buck the next wolf right in the torso, sending it flying as he slammed the axe head into the back of the fourth and jerked towards himself, shredding the creatures body. He was about to check on Caramel when pain lanced through his right front leg as the wolf he’d kicked apart came again, biting into him viciously. Golden Oak slammed the beast to the ground, barely noticing the red trails the beast’s teeth had gouged into his limb, before he brought the axe head down back first on it. He slammed the blunted end like a sledgehammer, striking again and again. First came the growls of defiance. Then came the yelps of pain. Finally, a pitiful whimper of a creature that knew it done bucked up, before slowly fading to silence. With one last savage blow, the metal head snapped off the axe and went flying, leaving the stallion standing over his victim, panting, with the broken handle raised.

“G-Golden Oak?” Caramel asked hesitantly as she watched the stallion apprehensively.

Golden Oak’s chest and shoulders heaved as he breathed deeply. A few moments later, he’d regained full control of himself. “Are … are you all right, Caramel?”

“I–I’m fine, but … your leg. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Golden Oak looked to his foreleg. The blood continued to flow.. “I … I should be fine. Let’s get you inside. Then I’ll get it looked at.” The leg hurt, but he was more worried about getting the young filly as far away from the forest as possible.

“I’m so sorry,” Caramel whispered as she leaned against him, and they passed through the glowing portal together. The whole family stood there with worried faces. A single lamp glowed warmly on the simple wooden table in the kitchen. “I … I just wanted to help the farm.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Oak promised as he lowered his head to nudge her gently. “Did you at least find what you were looking for?”

She reached behind her and withdrew one of the bulges from her handkerchief to reveal a large, glossy apple. It had to be one of the strangest Golden Oak had probably seen. At least, he supposed so. It was lined with every color of the rainbow sweeping downwards at a left angle, and had a stem that reminded him of a lighting bolt. “I call ‘em zap apples.”

“That is … incredibly strange,” Golden Oak commented as he continued examining it. His attention was drawn away temporarily, until another lance of pain passed up his leg. “We’ll talk more about them later. I think your folks want to get this looked at.”

“You bet your britches I do,” Bobbin said as she pulled out a series of jars and tins from the cabinets, along with some fresh white cloth. “We’ll talk about your reckless behavior later, young lady,” she said sternly. Caramel flinched, but nodded her concession, while her mother dribbled an ointment over the wounds and slathered it carefully. Golden Oak hissed. “Sorry. I suppose I should’ve warned you, but then it would’ve just hurt more.”

Golden Oak nodded. “Thank you. Just … let’s try to make this quick.”

---

Pensword swooped into Golden Oaks library like a marauding whirlwind, raiding it of its many precious volumes, before leaving a hastily scrawled note of apology. He flew home with all speed to study what he could of Ponyville’s history, and see if he could find any mention of them and this Golden Oak. After all, forewarned is forearmed. If he didn’t have any weapons, then he would use the culture to help him. He looked up occasionally to keep an eye on Day Moon as the foal worked on his archery skills. After a grueling examination on the range, the foal had finally been granted authorization to use proper arrows. It made Pensword smile to see Day Moon already clustering so well. “You’re doing great,” he cheered.

“Thanks, Dad,” Day Moon said, before taking a step back and lowering his bow. Then he passed through the line to exit the range and walked over to Pensword. “I know that face. Something’s wrong.” Internally, Pensword cursed the foal’s perceptiveness, though a hint of pride helped sweeten the mix. “What’s got you all worried?”

Pensword and sighed. “I’m sorry, Day Moon, but, being the son of a commander in the military, there will be many times when you see me worried, and I won’t be able to tell you anything, because of security issues. Regrettably, this is one of those times.” Seeing the hurt in the foal’s eyes was painful, but Pensword knew it was necessary. That didn’t change how much he hated keeping his children in the dark, though.

“I understand,” Day Moon nodded gravely. “It’s like when we spoke to the empress, right?”

Pensword nodded. He looked to his current volume, then back to the stack he’d accumulated and had yet to read. He sighed again, then closed the book and laid it on its side.

Day Moon frowned. “Don’t you have to study for whatever’s wrong?”

Pensword shook his head. “That can wait. I should be beside you right now. You still have a lot to learn.” He chuckled as he rose to stand next to the young Thestral. “I really am a silly Pony sometimes, aren’t I?”

“No, Dad,” Day Moon answered as a smirk pulled at his lips. “You’re our silly Uncle, who we just happen to call Dad for now, till we’re older.” Then he stuck out his tongue.

Pensword chuckled as he ruffled Day Moon’s mane.

“Uncle, I’m home!” Cristo’s voice called out into the suite. “I’m just gonna head to my room real quick, and then I’ll be right there!” he called hastily.

Pensword’s ears twitched as he narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “Before you do that, Cristo, could you come here quickly? Your brother and I need you to judge a shooting contest.”

“But Uncle,” Cristo whined.

“Now, Cristo!” the commander snapped.

The air was still for a time, before a barely audible, “Fine,” finally reached Pensword’s ears. A muttering Cristo plodded sullenly into the room. A small pouch lay perfectly balanced on his back, protected by his wings.

“What’s in the pouch?”

Day Moon raised a curious brow. “Those are just his earnings from some bets with the foals in the compound. I think he has two beaks from some of the teenage Gryphons. Why were you so scared about Dad finding out?”

Cristo fixed Day Moon with a glare, before looking nervously at their foster father. Pensword simply shrugged, then nodded. “As long as you use some of those gains to treat your sister to something, I’m fine with it.”

“Fine?” Cristo balked. “But–.”

“Am I a Noble Unicorn who doesn’t come down off his throne to mingle or get his hooves dirty? Brother-in-law excepted, of course.”

“Um … right,” Cristo muttered. “I guess you did lose that bet with Uncle Grif.”

Pensword sighed. “Does everypony know about that?”

“Well, the betting pool was kind of all over New Unity.”

“It’s worries of disapproval that led Luna to forbid contact with most of the parents in the first place. You’re all here to learn how to live as normal Ponies do, so you can relate to them when it’s time to assume your positions in court. A few playful bets from time to time are perfectly healthy for a foal your age. All I have to say to you is have fun with your earnings…” he smirked, then winked “... and go bigger next time.” He smiled as he picked up a bow and fired an arrow, hardly even looking at the target. The shaft landed perfectly in the bullseye, leaving the two foals to gape at his skill. While Matthew had never liked gambling, he enjoyed its strategic value. In many ways, battle was a gamble. Besides, it was a healthy part of soldier and Thestral culture. “By the way, where’s Moon River?”

“Jackpot.” The trio turned as one to see a grinning Moon River sitting on a stool with her trusty toy crossbow at the ready. She fired, and struck her target, just as he father had. The toy dart wiggled from its place on the bullseye as it struggled against the suction cup.

“Well, we have Moon River now.” Pensword smiled with fatherly pride. “How about we go for a little family fun before Daddy has to go back to work, hmm?”

“Jackpot,” Moon River agreed. Her smile was vicious as she prepared her next dart.

---

Golden Oak hummed to himself as he dragged a knife carefully over a small segment of wood, shaving off a piece. His right foreleg had been wrapped up in a homespun gauze, and while he couldn’t do much for work at the moment, he felt like he needed to do something. He didn’t have anything in particular he wanted to carve, but his hooves kept moving, regardless.

It didn’t take long for the carving to take the shape of an axe, embedded into a log. He gave a small frown as he looked it over, his mind drifting back to the fight once more as he tried to figure out where that reaction had come from. He didn’t even have to think about it. He’d just grabbed the axe and charged forward. He … knew what to do, somehow.

One of Caramel’s older siblings, a stallion with his mother’s red mane and a bright yellow coat, approached bearing the day’s rations. His three-horseshoe cutie mark shone clearly as he strode up to the stump where Oak worked. He preferred to go by Hoss, and that’s what the family called him. “Eat up, Oak,” he said with a weak smile. “And, uh … thanks for saving Caramel.”

“I couldn’t just sit by,” Golden Oak smiled in return. “Thanks,” he finished, placing the carving down on the nearby table.

“Y’know, that’s actually pretty good,” Hoss said with a chuckle. “You sure know how to handle a knife.”

“Only thing I can mess with.” Golden gave a faint chuckle as he held up his hoof. “Keeps me active.”

“Just you wait. Once we get in a good harvest, we’re gonna give you a right proper reward,” Hoss said. “Ma’s pies are some of the best this side of Equestria, and make no mistake.”

Golden Oak smiled fondly. “Can’t wait.”

“So, uh … what kinda wood’s that?”

“Just maple. Why do you ask?”

Hoss shrugged. “No reason. You really must work fast, though. I mean, I can still feel the life in that thing.”

“Don’t see why. I cut down the tree over three weeks ago”

Had Hoss been drinking any water, he would have done a spit take. “Three weeks? That’s not possible!”

“You can ask Caramel. It’s been at least three weeks. I haven’t needed to use the wood much.”

“Then how the hay…?”

Golden Oak shrugged. “I dunno.”

---

“Hmm … pre-Ponyville. It’ll have to be simple books. The older volumes should probably stay here. Basic dueling should be okay, I suppose. That was an art still practiced back then, after all,” he mused as he levitated the volume in question into his saddle bag. “I’m guessing a book on herbal remedies should be useful. Ponyville used to be mostly wild, after all, and maybe a bestiary. That should prove useful, if we have to go into the Everfree.”

He turned to Aria and ran a hoof under her beak. “Now you be a good girl while I’m gone. Assuming all goes well, it should only be for a little while, not even a day. At least, assuming we have the right incarnation of The Doctor helping us this time.”

Aria chirped questioningly.

“It’s a long story. I’ll see about telling you another time. For now, I should probably stop by Clover’s lab. If we’re really going to go back into the past, then I’ll probably need to have enough reagents to craft some potions and the like. Grif can be the monster hunter, and I can be the white mage. After all, nobody bucks with the white mage,” he said with a smirk.

Aria cocked her head.

“I didn’t expect you to get it. It’s sort of an inside joke. Anyways, I’ll see you later, okay? I’m off to visit the one Pony Grif won’t be mad about me telling about this trip.”

The journey to Clover’s lab was a short one. The guards gave the occasional salute or grunt of acknowledgement, and Vital finally knocked respectfully, before passing through the portal into the vast space that was his teacher’s work room.

“Hey, Clover? We’ve got a Time Turner situation. Think you could spare a few minutes?” he called.

“Reagents are packed and ready on the counter.” She didn’t even look up. “The red pack’s for you. The blue one is the things Grif will need. Don’t tell me the details, and don’t ask how I knew what you needed.”

“Clover, if there’s one thing I know, it's that time is wibbly wobbly and timey wimey. That, and not to question a senior companion to The Doctor who lends her aid.” Vital grabbed the two packs in his magic and nodded respectfully. “We’ll be back, probably at almost the same time we left, but in case we’re not, you know the story to tell everypony, right?”

“I know enough to keep them from panicking, until you return.”

“Just don’t tell Trixie. I’d rather let her know myself, after the fact, seeing as Grif would probably kill me, if I told her before.”

“He’d have to find your body and bring you back first.” Somehow, without looking at him, Clover elicited the same shiver he’d normally given her creepy smile.

“What is it with you and death threats?”

“Death threats have gotten some of the greatest and most impossible things in history done, Vital. Do you honestly think this country was founded on friendship?”

“Considering your narration on events, and your clear saltiness, I’m going to guess not.”

“Let’s just say death threats fused the final wandering pieces into the whole, and leave it at that.”

“At least until some earth-shattering revelation comes down the road, in which case I’ll probably just wonder why you didn’t tell me in the first place, and trust I could handle it.” Vital shrugged. “In short, the norm.” He chuckled, then shook his head. “See you later, Clover. I’ll let you know how things went, assuming you don’t know already, unless you have any parting words of advice?”

“Just be careful,” she offered.

“Will it help, if I promise to come back?”

“Unnecessary. I already know you will.”

---

“All right,” Bobbin said as she finished sorting through the last of the gold coins from an old leather sack with a drawstring attached, “that’s fifty bits to work with. Not much, but it should be enough to get what we need from the merchant, till we can get a proper harvest in.” She picked up a quill and scrawled out a series of notes. “We’ll need a sack of sugar, some vittles, oh, and some equipment for the winter.” She flipped the parchment over and began a new list, this time with the word Winter written on top.

After looking at the list, Golden Oak hummed aloud. “What about the spare axehead we mentioned? Since … you know, the last one took some damage.”

“Why, I do believe you’re right. Thank you, G–.” Bobbin did a double take as she gaped at the stallion. “Wait one cotton pickin’ minute. You know how to read?”

“... Yes,” Golden Oak commented. “Why do you ask?”

“Oak, honey, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a workpony who can read, let alone write?”

“I … didn’t really think of that,” he hummed to himself. “I wonder who taught me,” he muttered, then shrugged. “I’ll think on that later. I’d better get these supplies, before the trader gets too far.”

“You know the road?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it down.” Golden Oak tapped his head, a smirk on his face. “I’ll try to be quick,” he finished as he reached over to strap down his saddlebags.

“Good. You’ll need to remember to stop by the storage room. Our seeds do better than bits sometimes.”

“Sounds good,” Golden replied as he made his way outside. He needed to travel west, just until he reached the main road, where he then had to head south. If his memory served him correctly, the trader would be traveling the road the opposite way. For some reason, the trader always took that path while he made his rounds between towns. While the Smiths traded with him and his competitors often enough, he couldn’t divert his path to arrive at their homestead every trip. They were kind enough, however, to tell them when they make their rounds.

Golden Oak hummed a tune to himself as he walked and took stock of his inventory. He ensured what they had needed for the bartering, and everything was prepared correctly. He smiled, glancing around himself as he took in the lay of the land. The grassy fields swayed in a gentle breeze, the distant Everfree Forest stood dark and intimidating, and off in the distance, he could see the large golden oak where he’d first been found.

He shrugged as he walked up to the great tree’s trunk and brushed his hoof against the bark affectionately. While the oak served as a reminder of his lack of memory, it came also sparked memories of the Smiths and the kindness they’d shown not only in helping him, but practically adopting him into their family. He sighed ruefully as he looked down up at the sun-dappled grass beneath his hooves. He hoped he could give back to them in some way.

His smile softened as his thoughts drifted to the oak itself. “I wonder what I could do with it….”

---

Vital Spark stretched forward in the early morning light. The twin packs Clover had prepared lay on either side, and a simple robe and leather smock covered his body as he double checked his saddle bags. “Herbology, check. Basic alchemical practices, check. Magic candles, check. Beakers….” The list went on as he scanned through his inventory. Watcherlaid on his back, and a brief shimmer surrounded it, the only evidence of the glamour that he’d cast to alter its appearance. He sighed as he finished the last of his analysis, including double checking the beaker that held three tiny shards from Aria’s egg shell. “I guess that’s everything,” he muttered as he looked around the courtyard. “Now where are the others?”

“Many greetings, my friend.” The voice had a strange accent to it. It took Vital a minute to realize it was Italian. “My name is Gabriel, from the island of Scarpe de Cavallo.” A large Gryphon landed in front of the Unicorn. He wore a rugged long coat that covered his body, save for his wings down to his tail. The bottom of his face was wrapped in a black scarf with the symbol of the Faustian church embroidered in silver thread on the front. A worn-looking black wide-brimmed hat with a brown leather ring sat atop his head. Plates of blackened boiled leather etched with different symbols and glyphs shone beneath the folds of his coat. Two bandoliers crossed his chest. The one reaching from his left shoulder to his right side held several hand carved wooden stakes: two made of a polished metal that was probably silverite, and one that was tipped with a strange stone point that glowed softly. The other bandolier contained vials and packets of various concoctions. Two knives were sheathed at either side. A bow and quiver sat on his back, along with a katana that had been reworked to have a simple unadorned sheath and blackwood handle. A worn leather pack lay at his side.

“And this is my partner, New Moon.” He gestured as a black furred Earth Pony mare approached wearing a simple traveling cloak and carrying a nondescript mace. Beneath the cloak, Vital could see implications of her bearing a similar garb as Gabriel.

“We are hunters sanctioned by the crown and the holy orders of Equestria to hunt and destroy the evils that walk the earth, be they the kind that present themselves during the day or the damned who hide from the sun. It is good to meet you, my friend. For where are you bound?” The mare had continued her partners speech without much effort.

Vital Spark smiled. “No place in particular. I am merely a humble traveler, seeking to hone his craft. There are those in the higher circles of Canterlot who don’t look so kindly on my work, so I take the road less traveled to gain the knowledge I seek. I hear there are a variety of rare and potent flora in the area. They may prove useful to my work.” He bowed to the pair. “You may call me Yvetal the wise, if you wish, though I simply prefer Yvetal.” He shrugged. “Might I interest you in some of my wares?”

“I am well stocked at the moment, friend.” The Gryphon shook his head. “But if the Everfree is as dangerous as I’ve heard, perhaps I will be in need of you.”

“I believe I might have something of assistance. A certain mage from Canterlot actually asked me to meet a friend of hers here to deliver this package. Since it happened to be on my way, and she helped to smuggle me out of the city, who was I to argue? Perhaps you are this certain friend?” Vital smiled as he levitated the pack over to the Gryphon. “I believe she mentioned something about a crazy old bird and his archaic sidekick.”

“Many thanks. You have no idea how hard it is to get ground wolfsbane this pure outside Canterlot. They don’t let me in the city. No monsters to hunt. I’ve tried to justify the nobility as targets, but Celestia wasn’t having it, so no appreciation for the craft, and, of course, there is the matter of my race. What can you do?” Gabriel shrugged, then put the pack into his own.

A Pegasus alighted on the ground nearby with a frown and weary eyes. “This had better work out,” he muttered. His clothing was tattered and patched. He had a set of dinged-up second hoof cloud enchanted cookware and bedrolls. If anything, he looked like he lived out of his ruck. “Getting sick of this stupid blame game,” he growled. Then he noticed the other three. “Oh, just my luck,” he griped, “a Unicorn, a Gryphon, and an Earth Pony.” He took a breath and stepped forward. “ I humbly ask to pass through. I have a job interview I can’t be late for.”

“Far be it for me to get in your way.” The Unicorn shrugged. “I’m simply waiting for a ride. That, and discussing potential business opportunities.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to find yourself in need of some supplies, now, would you, traveler?”

“Will you be staying nearby? Because I can’t carry much more weight. All I own is on my back.”

“I come and I go.” He shrugged. “I may be staying in the area for a time. It depends on how well I’m received, I suppose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Just be warned. You might face some insults.” He flicked a tufted ear unconsciously. “Maybe not as bad as my parents when I was growing up, but you should still be prepared.”

A loud groaning whirr filled the air as the wind kicked up out of nowhere, spinning around a central point that rapidly materialized in the form of a big blue police box. The doors came open, and out popped a raggedy looking Pegasus with a wild brown mane and a prim bowtie over his neck. He held a bowl of custard in one hoof and what appeared to be a breaded stick of some kind in the other. “I’m telling you, Derpy, it’s one of the greatest light shows you’ll ever see. Do you have any idea how rare it is to have a Unicorn ascend into an Alicorn? The sheer amount of magical energies as they converge into a new ley line will make every feather on those pretty little wings of your stand on end. Come on now. Come on, get a move on you sleepy heads.”

A series of prolonged groans echoed from within, which was when the Pegasus finally noticed the four and groaned as he rolled his eyes. “Oh no. Not you lot again.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Hello, Vital Spark.” He proffered the bowl. “Care for some custard?

“Um … no, thank you. I’m … I’m good,” the Unicorn said as he eyed the crumbs that speckled the yellow substance.

“Right, then.” He tossed the bowl back into the box, leading to the sound of shattering glass. Then he clapped his hooves together and rubbed them back and forth. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? What trouble do you need me to get you out of this time? It’s the wife’s 200th anniversary, and I’d prefer to get a proper seat set up for the fireworks.”

“Um … you kind of missed them, Doctor,” Vital sweatdropped.

“Did I?”

“By multiple days.”

“Blast! I knew I should’ve recalibrated the wiggly lever.”

“I’m sure your TARDIS will take you and your wife someplace grand,” Pensword answered. “Just … we need a ride back to the founding of Ponyville.” He smiled sheepishly. “Hammer Strike needs to be picked up … again.”

“There are pears in Ponyville during that time, Doctor. Hammer Strike could be fooled into eating one,” Grif said urgently.

“Grif Grafson! Now there’s an ugly mug I’d never forget. Tell me, how’s Gilda? She ready for her third already?” He dashed out and began to examine Grif’s garb. “Love the new duds, by the way. And did you do something with your crest?”

“Spoilers, Doctor,” Grif said.

“So, a quick pop over to Pre-Ponyville by about … oh, a year or so?” The Doctor shrugged. “I suppose I could manage that. Dinkie does enjoy her zap apple jam. And don’t even get me started on Derpy. The zap apple muffins she bakes are positively out of this world. Did you know they actually managed to stop the great song war of 13,557?”

“Didn’t come to check on the daughter you left with your younger self?” Grif chuckled.

“But we just dropped her off not ten minutes ago,” Derpy answered, poking her head out of the door. “Don’t tell me we’re off course again, Doctor.” Then she smiled widely as she saw the four extra people. “Oh, hi Grif, Vital Spark, Pensword, and….”

“Luna, darling. She’s in disguise,” The Doctor clarified. “Now then, I believe you lot said something about needing transport.”

“That’s correct,” Pensword answered.

“Well, come on, then,” he huffed, then clopped inside. “All of time and space at my hooves, and I’m stuck being a glorified taxi service to the defenders of Equestria,” he muttered as they followed behind.

“You know that the TARDIS wouldn’t have landed you here, unless she thought it was important.”

“You want me to tell Derpy what happened on Xcavar 5?” Grif added in a whisper.

“As I recall, you were the one who shoved me into that particular situation, quite against my will. Now then, moving on!” He flew over to the console and began flicking switches, adjusting levers, and turning various circular valves and devices, before finally pulling one giant lever to cause the heart of the console to sputter to life. “And we’re off. Geronimo!”

“I love the sound of the control console, but I miss the round things,” Pensword sighed.

“There there,” Derpy offered affectionately as she patted his back with a wing. “Muffin?”

“Oooh!” Pensword chirped happily as he snatched the muffin and began to consume the delectable confection. “So, uh, … Doctor, when can I help drive?”

“... Let me get back to you on that one.”

---

Golden Oak sighed as he traveled back towards the Smiths’ estate. The trip to the trader went well, but it had taken him longer than anticipated. The sun had settled low into the horizon as a cold wind blew over the grassy plain. He was admittedly getting cold, and with some distance to travel, he knew he needed to warm up.

He shivered as he shifted his path to a small patch of trees. He noticed one that was definitely dying. The wood was dry, cracked, and aged. After some effort, he managed to remove enough scraps of wood and bark, then made his way out to a large segment of open ground next to the road to avoid setting fire to the grass.

Thankfully, one of the purchases he’d made were a bunch of matches. After gathering the wood into a small pile, he struck one of the sticks. The match refused to light. He struck it again, and still failed to light it. He groaned to himself and tried a few more times, with each failure leading to mounting frustration. “Damn it, would,” he struck once more, “you,” he struck again, “just light!” he grunted as the match finally burst into flame. He sighed with relief, lowered the match down, and began the slow process of building up the fire. He could make it back in the dark, if it came down to it, but he needed to warm up first, if he wanted to continue onward.

Several minutes later, her heard the sound of someone approaching. The clop of hooves was … off. It sounded like there were too many. “Excuse me, young colt,” a dusty voice called. When Golden Oak looked up, he was confronted by an aged gray stallion wearing a worn brown cloak leaning heavily on a staff, which explained the odd sound of his gait. “May an old traveler share your fire?”

“Certainly.” Golden Oak gave a soft smile and motioned towards the other side.

The stranger nodded gratefully, moving to the proffered location, before sitting down. Oddly enough, his cloak covered him to the point that Golden Oak couldn’t see where it parted. The traveller let out a sigh and nodded. “Feels good to warm these old bones.”

“Might I ask where you’re traveling to at this hour?” Golden Oak questioned. “It’s soon to be night, and the nearest place would be the Smith Orchard, some distance the way you came from.”

“Oh, I am a traveler, my boy. I go here, and I go there. Where the road leads is where I am bound. It’s the way I’ve always been.” He chuckled. “And where are you heading, if I may be so bold?”

“Back to the orchard I mentioned earlier.” He smiled softly. “The family there have been kind enough to give me a place of residence with my … lack of memory.”

“Oh, you’ve lost your past?” the old stallion asked, obviously taking an interest.

“So it seems.” Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “I just sort of … woke up underneath a large golden oak.”

“The big tree over yonder?” the stallion gestured with his staff.

“Yes.” Golden Oak gave a faint chuckle. “With my lack of memory, I was named after the tree by the Smiths, until I can remember.”

“Well, miraculous things begin under ancestor trees,” the old stallion chuckled, “and that is one of the last remaining ones in this world.”

“Truly?” Golden Oak looked over to the tree. “Are you certain?”

The stallion nodded. “When you’ve walked the earth as long as I have, you learn many fantastic things, my boy.”

“One day,” Golden Oak smiled gently.

“Perhaps,” the stallion chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of payment, but please take these.” The old stallion reached into his cloak and produced a pair of horseshoes. They were ancient-looking with a higher back that seemed like it was meant to cover the back of the hoof, unlike the pair Oak had stumbled across when helping clean up the house he and the Smiths shared. They were rusty and unimpressive, but there was a strange feel to them, a pulse the scarred Earth Pony couldn’t quite identify.

“It’s perfectly alr–.” Golden Oak looked up to where the stallion once sat, only to find empty space. After surveying his surroundings, he determined that the older stallion was, somehow, already long gone. The place where the stallion sat showed several hoof prints that had been scattered about in the dirt, as though he were moving his hooves to different positions.

He looked down to the horseshoes once more, before letting a small smile pass. He’d have to try them out when he got home. After all, there was no reason to let them go to waste. After a few more minutes by the fire, he sighed, stood, and prepared to make his way back to the little farmstead he and the Smiths had built together. The sun had drifted far below the horizon, and the moon blanketed the plains with a soft glow. Half an hour passed swiftly. By the time he had arrived, Caramel had already been put to bed, and Seeder Smith was preparing to lock up for the night. Oak smiled as he entered the house, letting the warmth soak in, while he put everything away, and returned the extra bits to Seeder. Then, after bidding him good night, Golden Oak made his way back to his room.

Before he could even sit to rest, his own curiosity drove him to try on the horseshoes, whether to check the size or see how sturdy they were, he couldn’t tell for certain. So, he followed the urge and slipped them on. He’d have to fit them correctly in the morning, but as he placed them onto his back hooves, he couldn’t help but notice how well they fit. Almost perfectly, in fact. That was, until he started to feel a faint pain from his hooves. He sighed to himself, knowing that the material was probably rougher than he’d noticed initially. Either that or he was just aching from the long journey. He reached down, grabbed hold of the horseshoes, and pulled them off.

At least, he attempted to.

The horseshoes were firmly attached, despite the fact he had not properly put them on or nailed them in. As he stared at them, the rust slowly began to clear away, revealing a polished bronze underneath. While he determined that he should be worried, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to feel it. Despite being firmly attached by uncertain means, they didn’t feel like they were harmful in any way. He almost felt content to have them. He shrugged and laid back on his bed. He could worry about them later.

---

Golden Oak rubbed the side of his head in thought. It had been nearly five years since he’d been taken in by the Smiths, and now he was finally being put to true work. The zap apple trees were very unique in their times to be harvested, but they were worth the wait. They were perfect for plenty of baked goods, but the most popular was little Caramel’s zap apple jam. Ponies would travel a great distance to have some, and soon the foundations of a town were underway. With this, the need for a carpenter grew substantially, resulting in plenty of work for Golden Oak. The one frustrating problem was that, after completing the project, he would have to travel some distance carrying whatever thing he’d made to where the town was under construction. Sure, the additional revenue was good. He paid for the wood he was using, and was even able to give an honest rent to the Smiths, but the time needed to travel for just delivering one or two pieces out of a set of ten that had to be brought wasn’t fun.

Perhaps it was time for him to set up a proper shop for himself. It would take some time to dig the foundation, and he would need a place to store everything, so either a small storehouse or maybe a few more levels for extra storage. There was also the part of a proper residence. That was going to be an entirely different project.

He hummed aloud and shifted his posture, leaning onto the table to prop himself up with his foreleg. “I could just put it all in one building,” he thought aloud.

“Put what in one building?”

Golden Oak flinched. “Huh? Oh, Caramel. Sorry, I’m just thinking aloud. What brings you here?”

Caramel shrugged. “Got bored. Figured a walk’d do me some good, what with the harvest bein’ over.”

“Give it a little bit. Soon you’ll be back to work and wishing you had more free time.” Golden Oak gave a soft laugh. “Ah, but you’ll have more to do, and more Ponies to interact with soon enough, with Ponyville under construction.”

“Not many foals to play with, though,” she frowned. “Honestly, you’re the most fun that ever happened to me, Oak. Everything’s just more … interesting when you’re around, you know?”

“How so? I honestly feel like I’ve just been following along without much change,” he hummed questioningly. “Well, besides the occasional deal from the Everfree….”

“And a weird old stallion who wants to give you horseshoes?”

Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, but I mean, at least they weren’t harmful, just ... sort of there.” He looked to the horseshoes still stuck to his back hooves. “They’re odd, to be honest. I feel more in tune with everything, ever since I put them on.”

“At least they look nice with that there coat of yours.”

Golden Oak chuckled. “Imagine if they ended up looking like rose gold or something. It would certainly stand out more.”

Caramel stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Pink ain’t exactly your color.”

Golden Oak smiled. “It could have been much worse, but I’d say these turned out pretty alright.” His smile softened. “All right, Caramel. I’ve got to get back to work on the next few frames. Got to have them delivered by tonight, and I’m burning daylight.”

“Want some help?”

“I should be able to get this done pretty quickly. Plus, last I remember, didn’t Bobbin want you to help with dinner tonight?”

Caramel laughed nervously. “Um … maybe?”

“Get going, then,” Golden Oak chuckled. “Wouldn’t want her getting upset, would ya?”

Caramel sighed. “No.” Then she perked up again. “I’ll bring something back for you!”

Golden Oak smiled. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

He sighed softly as she left, his mind drifting back to his work. There was plenty to do, and not too much time left. If he could just get a good amount of wood, he could easily work on a place set up in town. He chuckled softly as he thought to the large golden oak. If he was willing to destroy it, it would supply him with plenty. Heck, with it’s scale, he could easily just carve out a place … to live.

---

After several months of careful work, Golden Oak found his way to ensure that the wood he worked on would remain alive. With it, he had slowly carved out the large golden oak to give himself a place to work and stay that was inside the city. While he was uncertain on if it was right for him to do it, it helped that he learned that the residents were planning on cutting down the tree for supplies, anyways.

He smiled happily as he looked to the tree once more. It wasn’t just a landmark, nor was it just the start of his life, it was now home. He walked inside, flipping a sign on the outside of the front door to OPEN. The inside was simple: a few tables, a counter, some tools he purchased from the Smiths, and stairs leading both to a basement for storage and upper floors for his bedroom, bathroom, and spare bedroom.

The best part was that the tree was still alive.

Sure, he still had plenty of room to expand, but he didn’t have much reason to at the moment. Right now, he wanted to finally get to work for the town to help it expand. Of course, there were some side projects he wanted to work on, like a gift for the Smith family. After everything they gave him, he knew that he wanted to give something back to them, no matter what.

While there were plenty of things he could make for them, nothing really felt right. Most of the wood-based things he could make weren’t in that high of demand, considering he’d already worked tirelessly on their house and ensuring it was structurally sound. There was a few things he could make that were … outside of the norm. With the resilience of living wood, there were many new possibilities. Perhaps a sort of mark for the Smith family and their progression into apple farmers, or perhaps something to help with the defense of the homestead.

While the orchard was relatively safe, every once in awhile, something would come from the forest edge to investigate the fields or followed the scents of ponies. It wasn’t the safest location, but it wasn’t terrible at the same time.

“What about a living wood … weapon?” Golden Oak hummed to himself as he started thinking out loud once again. He frowned as he thought more on it. “It wouldn’t be too complicated, a blunt weapon of some kind….” He shook his head. He’d have to think on it more later. His ear twitched as he turned towards the door to his shop. He could swear he heard hoofsteps, but….

The door slammed open to reveal a grinning Stinking Rich. “Golden Oak, I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me lately. That stand has been selling zap apple jam faster than the Smiths can make it!” He trotted forward, seized Golden Oak’s hoof between his own hooves, and shook vigorously.

“Hello, Mr. Rich. What brings you around?” Golden Oak asked with a small smile.

“Well, I know you’re backlogged, but I wanted to at least get a professional’s opinion.” He pulled out a large parchment and rolled it out in his hooves’ grip. “What with all the traffic we’ve got coming in, I figure if I were to open a proper store, we might be able to provide some real goods to the rest of the good Ponyfolk here. I just wanna know if these plans are viable. I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the chest when it comes to construction.”

Golden Oak examined the plans for a few minutes, before finally pointing towards one of the open spaces. “Might need to include something for structural integrity there. A support beam should do the trick. Other than that, unless you receive poor quality wood or other materials, it should be good.”

“Oak, you’re a lifesaver.”

“If you need anything else, feel free to ask. With me being in town, it’s been easier and quicker to get everything built and delivered.”

Rich chuckled. “The rate you’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you made mayor before long.”

Golden Oak returned the laugh. “No, thank you. I’m content where I am.”

“You’ve got the magic touch, Oak. Don’t you ever lose it,” Rich said by way of farewell as he waved, then left behind a jar of zap apple jam to add to the carpenter’s stores.

Golden Oak smiled as he moved the jar to his room for storage. It was at this moment that he realized he probably should carve out a kitchen area.

He shook his head as he moved back downstairs, his mind drifting back towards what he could make for the Smith family. The blunt weapon idea stuck in his mind, so he rolled with it. The more he thought on it, the more he started thinking about the shape of weapon that could work with an apple incorporated into it somehow.

“A club of some kind? No, that wouldn’t work. If I’m going to make something like that, it’d need to work with the shape, like a hammer of some kind,” he hummed aloud before nodding to himself. “Perhaps … a war hammer?”

---

Golden Oak hummed a tune to himself as he carefully pulled a knife across the surface of wood in front of him. At the moment he was replicating an older style of work, the figure resembling the head of a horse. He was uncertain as to why, but with the town being settled, he was finding himself with more free time as the days went by.

It had been nearly fifteen years since the founding of Ponyville, and about seventeen since his awakening. To this day, he still had no recollection of his past, but he didn’t really mind. Sure, there was a day or two where he would wonder, thinking to himself for hours on end as to what his past could possibly be. It was almost a sort of routine now.

The Smith family would come by once in awhile to visit, when they had the off time between harvests. The Rich family ran a successful shop, keeping the town a noteworthy spot to stop and giving other businesses trade as well. Heck, a traveler would sometimes stop by for a quick carving or a frame to something, so even Oak got business from the traffic.

He placed the knife down, before stretching. The project wasn’t complete, but he could continue it later. After a quick trip to the restroom, he stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror. Sure, it had been seventeen years, but the years didn’t really show. He looked almost the same as when he woke up, right down to the specifications for his beard.

“Growing older at the same rate as a tree, huh?” he questioned his reflection softly, before chuckling to himself. He shook his head, heading for the door. He was running low on lumber, and needed to resupply. He stepped outside, flipping the sign behind him to CLOSED as he looked out to the town, a faint wind catching through the road. His ear twitched as a noise traveled with the wind. He’d almost call it a groan.

Several miles away from Ponyville, on the edge of a large forest, a strange blue box materialized out of nothing with a whirring groan and a final thump. The doors creaked open, and a snappy, playful voice called out, “All right, boys and girls, here we are. Ponyville! Some twenty years or so after its founding, if I’m not mistaken. Of course, you’ll have to walk there, but I suspect that’s what you all hoped for, anyways.” A tan pegasus in a bowtie stepped out from the box, then motioned out into the clearing. “Everypony off!”

“Gratsie, Doctor,” Gabriel said as he and New Moon stepped out of the box.

“Thank you for the ride. I’ll pay you back later. If I get paid, that is,” the half breed, who’d later introduced himself as Feather Blade, replied.

“Indeed. It’s been a great pleasure to see the TARDIS again,” Yvetal said as he stepped off. “Do make sure to spoil the missus. After all, the two of you still have quite the future ahead of you,” he added as he winked mischievously at the Pegasus.

“We’ll circle around a bit to the west and enter from that way, just to make us seem less conspicuous,” Gabriel noted.

“Mind you don’t make any paradoxes. You know how much I hate cleaning up after those, especiallyon my anniversary.”

“We’re just here for a pickup, Doctor. By the way, did you give Gabriel the means to call you again, once we’re ready to depart?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Now do us all a favor and get going! Go on, shoo!” he said as he motioned dramatically with his wings. “We’ll pick you kids up again in a few hours. Or a few days. Might be days. Yeah, let’s just settle with we’ll pick you up.”

Yvetal chuckled and shook his head. “As you say, Doctor. Farewell.” The Unicorn saluted the stallion as he retreated into the box, and the groaning whirr started again, before the strange structure disappeared entirely, leaving the party completely alone by the woods.

“Everybody has their stories straight, and there rations?” Gabriel asked, looking at each.

“And enough bits to last, until we can find some proper employment,” Yvetal assured the Gryphon.

“I’ll do the best I can. I’m writing off half my stores stolen or demanded as tax or tribute to the Weather Captain, what with being a Gypsy risk.”

Yvetal winced. “Then I guess we’re all set. Until our first meeting, gentleponies, m’lady,” he said as he nodded briefly, then started trotting towards town.

Comments

[Sigmacipher]

Can we please have Rarity try and kill destiny. Please it wouldn't be out of context and I really do not like destiny right now.

[Grif_Bladefeather]

8745909
are you familiar with the term 'mantling'?

[Sigmacipher]

8745944
How relevant is this to the conversation at hand also she tried to kill Hammerstrike, I like Hammerstrike so don't judge.

[Booster Spice]

If they cant get hold of a motile vehicle, ground, air or variable, they can always go for Portal guns. One goes forward in time, the other goes backwards and you need one at each end to make it work. Before you complain, this means you can use them from either end singly, because once you pass through, the other works in the reverse direction to fix the portal.

If Grif is going as Preacher, does that mean he is going to have to stop Golden Oaks wedding plans with his Hammer, Gold Strike?

Bet that would make Golden Oaks Kiel over.

TARDIS couldnt land closer due to the fixed bubble surrounding Hammer Strike and the founding of Ponyville, but now that he has gone through once, it can be returned to because he will have been there to deal with problems and travellers etc?

Just how did the Great Dragon Migration start. Was it like the geese in Fly Away Home, or did it start as a Dominance, Raid Flight, until someone decided it was time the more obnoxious lizerds got it throughly pounded into their skulls that they were hence to do the flight as Penance? Like say from an aincient mythological figure, Lord Ozzymandias?

Noone suspects the Traveling Wagon. Even though so many ponies and things fall off the back of it.

[Commander_Pensword]

8745944

8746068

I am curious as well as Mantling from a quick Google is: a piece of ornamental drapery depicted issuing from a helmet and surrounding a shield. Compare with lambrequin.

But I will not judge thee if thou.... Okay, got to not be typing like Pensword.

I will not judge that you like Hammer Strike, but here is a question, what would happen if a pony did kill Destiny? what would happen then?

I do not like Destiny either.

I will say that I am really enjoying your comments, and happy to see that our story is invoking such strong emotions.

8746158

Ah, I have not heard that name in a long time, Ozymandias, but I will say this, wait and see, wait and see.

But interesting thoughts on the Dragon Migration.

[Grif_Bladefeather]

8746068
it's simply the idea that a being like destiny must exist, an embodiment cannot be killed or destroyed without being replaced, should rarity kill destiny, she'd be forced to take her palce in the family.

this is a lesson many necromancers have learned about death, many many many times

8746170
in this case vulpix it's referring to a verb, a fantasy term most commonly found in elder scrolls, essentially to take the mantle of a larger more powerful being.

[Night_Striker]

this gonna be intresting how they gonna help hammerstrike this time and i got an felling there will be posebly fighting happennig allso.

and keep up the exselent work guys!

[Charedfirescale]

So I have two things I'd like to get off my chest. The first is about the spell that caused Twilight's Ascension and the 2nd is about something that occured to me while rewatching the finale of Season 4.

First Thought) So the scroll that was used to help Twilight Ascend, you all remember it right? It was an unfinished spell that Starswirl never completed. Now Starswirl is rather bad at making friends, being friendly and being sociable in general. Now tell me, what does a unicorn of Starswirl's intelligence and power due if he is bad at something or simply doesn't have time to do things properly? Why make a spell to do it! After all, its been made quite clear in the show that a unicorn's first instinct is to use magic to fix their problems. (Regardless of the fact that it usually is easier to do it the non-magic way and often makes it worse.)
Here's the issue Starswirl doesn't understand friendship, so he is unable to complete the spell. Based on the effects; he tried to base the spell on other ponies' cutie-marks so he could understand their point of view. Which is why the spell swapped the cutie-marks of Twilight's Friends. After-all if you understood their cutie-mark you must understand them and that's what makes you friends right?

So inclusion Starswirl's Unfinished Spell was to help him make friends without putting in the effort and / or to simply understand what friendship is in general. (After-all the show's slogan is friendship is magic)

I'm under the impression that he couldn't believe in the idea of a pony ascending to alicornhood. I mean Celestia and Luna were found as alicorns. If a pony could ascend, than why couldn't a pony simply switch tribes whenever they wanted?
(In your story) I'm also under the impression that spells that turned the Threstals into the other tribes simply didn't exist or were considered a form of forbidden magic.

Second Thought) After re-watching the Season 4 Finale, "Twilight's Kingdom" and the Season 7 Finale, "Shadow Play" I realized something. Starswirl couldn't possibly be the pony who befriended Scorpan.
The reasons are quite simple. First off, at the time of Starswirl's (and the rest of the Pillar's) disappearance; its clearly stated that Celestia and Luna were still fouls. During the backstory of Tierk's appearance and original defeat, Celestia and Luna are now adults and full-fledged rulers rather than figureheads. Next the Wizard is stated as being young; while even when the Princess's were young Starswirl was quite old. It should be noted that the Title of "Wizard", can be earned via studying at universities like Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns in the same vane as a person earning their doctorate. Also, there seem to be many ponies (like Sunburst); whom take to stylizing themselves in his image to make themselves feel important/powerful. Finally, Starswirl has shown a complete lack in social-able ability and a disregard for friendship.
Basically Starswirl has a hard time relating to and being around other ponies, let alone someone from another species and country. Especially if they are part of an invasion.
With all that in mind; its quite obvious that Starswirl couldn't have been the pony who befriended Scorpan. My best guess is that Twilight, being "Starswirl is EVERYTHING" simply assumed that the Young Wizard was in fact Starswirl.

It might have once been Starswirl, but with the way his disappearance and character has been addressed in the Seasons 7 Finale; it has been retconned.