• Published 7th Apr 2012
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Scion of Chaos - SilentBelle



Sweetie Belle plans on learning the basics of magic, but what she discovers is so much more.

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Chapter 18 - Aged Wood

Scion of Chaos – Chapter 18: Aged Wood
By: SilentBelle

Walking through a forest, under a loose canopy of moonlit leaves was one thing that the filly had never experienced before. Or if she had, she had certainly never stopped to appreciate it. Beautiful, that was the only word she could think of to describe it. The pale silver light played across the tops of lightly billowing summer leaves and spilled between them forming a shadowy acrostic amongst the grass, moss and dirt of the forest floor. It filled her with a sense of peace that she hadn't known since the last time she, and the rest of the Crusaders, had ended a day of fruitless crusading.

She remembered it vividly: Breathless and grinning, the three of them settled down atop a small, empty hill, out in Sweet Apple Acres. They were sharing company on the hill on a vague premise that they might get their cutie marks in astronomy. The sun had just been setting and the three fillies laid upon their backs and stared wordlessly at the changing twilit sky. They watched as the stars slowly began to make their appearances and the merest sliver of a moon began to peak past the horizon.

Sweetie Belle had spent what felt like hours, gazing at that unfolding scene. She recalled listening the soft sound of her friends' gentle sighs as they closed their eyes tenderly and drifted off to sleep. Eventually, she slipped a glance at her two sleeping friends as she felt a grin on her lips. Letting out one last contented sigh herself, the small unicorn had let the soft embrace of night guide her to sleep as well. It was one of those moments, she knew, that would always stick with her.

Sweetie Belle gently exhaled as she finished wandering in her memories.

“As refreshing as this night air must taste, I must remind you, you do have a place to get to,” Scoddri said, dispelling the mood rather effectively.

She rolled her eyes, as was her typical response to the voice. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” the unicorn muttered and began walking again.

“Hah, sarcasm fits you very well, Sweetie Belle.”

“It fits you better,” she mumbled as she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Perhaps better than most,” the voice replied in affirmation. The unicorn could imagine him nodding to himself. “But I still enjoy seeing it worn by others. What's the point of biting if no one else bites back?”

“Biting?”

“Yes, my dear, biting,” Scoddri chastised. “As in: your biting comment. Do try to keep up.”

“Oh, I get it now,” she replied, and paused to consider. “Hmm, wouldn't it be better if nopony said anything mean at all?”

The voice let out a hearty guffaw. “Oh, such naivety, how refreshing. Sometimes I forget that you are nothing more than a mere foal.”

“A foal?! I'm older than a foal! Maybe I don't have my cutie mark, but I'm not just some foal. I've done more than most ponies my age ever dreamed about!”

“My dear, I meant no offense, quite the opposite in fact. Your youth is a trait I find most endearing. You should cherish it while it remains yours to hold.”

“You just don't get it,” she argued, “you must have forgotten what it's like to not have a cutie mark.”

“A valid point. One can only remember so much, but I do still remember. How can one forget? Those moments of disdain, derision and spite. A childhood I'd rather not dwell upon.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you only listen to half the words I speak. I told you girl, I'd rather not dwell upon it.”

“And I'd rather you did,” she retorted smartly. “There's nothing wrong with a story about the past.”

“Unless the story is your own!” the voice snapped coldly.

The filly nearly tripped at the harshness with which the voice had spoken. She had never expected the voice to talk in such a manner. She'd heard his joking tones, his scathing rebuttals, and even rarely, concerned sternness. But never such cold anger. I must have hit a nerve.

“I'm sorry Scoddri. I didn't mean to pry.”

“Oh, but you did, didn't you?” he countered with a light chuckle, and Sweetie Belle relaxed to hear the mirth in his voice, even if it also carried a hollow note of pain with it. “Remember this girl, everyone has their secrets, and they can be dark and powerful. For these secrets form the true face to anyone you meet. It may take years to notice them, but everyone has those secrets.”

“I see...” she said, trailing off.

Scoddri merely laughed to himself as Sweetie Belle continued onward through the moonlit woods.

* * *

The unicorn had wandered through the woods for well over an hour. Scoddri's guiding voice seemed content in offering his objections whenever she managed to turn herself around.

“It's really not so hard to walk in a straight line, girl,” the voice chided.

“It is when there are trees in the way,” she refuted. “And how in the hay am I supposed to be able to tell which direction Canterlot is in if I can't see it?”

“Well, the moon is hanging up in the sky.”

“Yeah, but how's the moon going to help? I wouldn't be able to see the city even if the sun was out right now.”

“How indeed,” the voice muttered in a way that suggested a rolling of his eyes.

Sweetie Belle merely huffed as she wove her way between two small trees. “Well, you're not the one that's doing all the walking.”

“As is evident from your rather stylized path.”

“Oh, be quiet Scoddri, it's not like I'm trying to go in circles. I'm trying to get to Canterlot,” she reiterated, “speaking of which... How much further is it? My hooves feel like they are about to fall off.”

“You've only been walking for a couple hours girl!” Scoddri exclaimed in his none-too-serious, theatrical voice. “Where has your youthful vigor gone? You just woke up a few hours ago.”

“I know, but I didn't get enough sleep,” she claimed, offering a light yawn as punctuation.

It's only a half-day's journey from here. You are quite close girl.”

“Half a day?!” she complained. “But the sun's going to rise by then! I can't walk for that long!”

“Now, my dear, didn't your darling sister ever tell you not to oust your problems upon others?”

“Not in those words exactly, but she has told me not to complain. She says it's unladylike. Although, she does it all the time, so I don't see why I can't too.”

“To not practice what you preach, is to grab at that which is out of reach.”

“Huh, what's that supposed to mean?”

The voice chuckled lightly to himself. “It means you're not close enough,” he offered slyly. “Keep walking.”

* * *

Not even half an hour passed before Sweetie Belle's earlier complaints were actually realized. Her tired legs caught upon a flat tree stump causing her to crash into a series of small bushes. She found herself laying on her back and groaning as she extended a fore-hoof into the open air. She could feel her pulse throbbing through her hoof as she held it extended above her.

“It's too far Scoddri, I need to rest. My hooves hurt.”

“Hmm, perhaps you do, girl,” he admitted. “But may I suggest that you find a better place to collapse before dozing off? A bush is seldom the most comforting of cushions.”

Sweetie Belle frowned as she tried to come up with a biting rebuttal, when something caught her eye in the distance. A light, is that fire?

Springing to her hooves, she scrambled to try to catch sight of the distant light once again. The filly pushed her way through a mess of leaves and small branches to find the source.

Moments later, it reappeared as she made her way into a small clearing. A wooden cabin simply stood there with an unkempt path leading to it from the other side of the clearing. A glowing window lured Sweetie Belle's eyes away from all else. Such a sight was most welcome to the filly; it seemed warm and inviting.

“How quaint, a cabin in the woods and somepony is home, by the looks of it. Unless they decided to stoke the hearth and leave.”

Sweetie Belle approached the window of the small, well-worn building. As she did so, she could make out a quiet tune being hummed from inside. Lifting herself with just her hind legs, and gracing the windowsill with her fore-hooves, she peeked in through the window.

Within the glowing abode, she saw an old earth pony, his white hair and red wrinkled face displaying a sense of weariness that the filly couldn't quite understand. He just looks tired, she decided. A passive expression was worn by the old-timer, as he sat upon an antique wooden rocking-chair with closed eyes, swaying in beat with his off-tune humming.

“Having fun spying, are we?” the voice asked in a mirthful manner.

“Be quiet,” she whispered in irritation. “I think I know that song.” She paused for a moment and strained her ears to hear the melody and nodded to herself. It was a song she remembered hearing, but she could not recall where or when she had heard it.

Unbidden, the lyrics to the song slipped out of her mouth as she listened.

Lay now my love, beneath the silver moon.
Hold not to morning, nor evening, nor noon.
My voice from the waters, the call of the loon,
Lay now and listen, for I'll be home soon.

It's been months since I left, but still I see
These years that we've spent, making memories.
I still hold you dear, deep in my heart,
So listen for my voice, we are not apart.

Lay now my love, beneath the starry sky.
Ask not of where, what, when or why.
Close your eyes now, and listen and try.
Hear in the wind, my sweet lullaby.

Sweetie Belle let the final soft note fade into the darkness. She had been lost in the music, a feeling that she had almost forgotten. With a quiet sigh, she sat down and laid back against the wall of the cabin, its old wood smoothed from years of weather.

For some reason, she felt compelled to strain her ears as she rested, listening for the soft brush of the wind as it crossed the trees. However, there was no wind to be found, instead all she heard was the light tapping of hooves and the protest of floorboards, heralding the old pony's approach to the window.

Her eyes grew wide at the realization. I can't believe I forgot that there was somepony inside! I should run and hide! The filly bore a panicked expression as she scrambled onto her hooves just in time for the window to swing open sharply upon her horn.

“Ouch!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed as she lost her balance, tripping over her own hooves. Laying on her back she gazed up as a wrinkled red face protruded from the window.

“Who's there, singing songs outside my window?” the old pony asked in a rough voice as he squinted into the darkness. His wrinkles seemed fixed into a frown, an expression which softened as his gaze fell upon the unicorn. “Well, I'll be, little filly. What are you doing outside at this hour? Are ye lost?”

“Um, no I'm-” she protested as she tried to regain her footing while rubbing at her horn.

“Oh, where are my manners? Please, do come in,” he interjected as he backed out of the window. Sweetie Belle could hear the sound of floorboards groaning from within as the red stallion lumbered over to the door. He opened it with a gentle push. “Please,” he called out just as gently, “come inside, make yourself at home.”

A little hesitant, the filly paused, before nodding. “Thank you, mister,” she called out as she made her way over to the fire-lit doorway. “I'm sorry for intruding.”

“My, such manners,” the old pony said with a dry chuckle, which turned into a fit of coughing. He proceeded to wave off the filly when she approached with a look of concern in her eyes. “I'm fine,” he coughed. “I'm fine, it never lasts long.” He lumbered shakily over to a set of cupboards as he wheezed.

Sweetie Belle quietly closed the door and made her way into the humble abode. It held very little at her cursory glance; she noticed a bed, a few cupboards, a modest dresser, a small mirror on the wall, the rocking-chair, and leaning in the corner, a well-kept, and equally well-worn axe. It was then that she noticed the red pony's cutie mark. It was an axe with a log cut in twain.

“Say, ye want a bit to eat?” he asked, turning his head to catch the filly's enthusiastic nodding. “Alright, it's nothing much, just porridge. Let me put on some water.”

She watched silently as the old-timer went about preparing the meal as slowly and as steadily as his aged joints would allow. As she watched, she felt a tinge of melancholy descend upon her.

"Nice place, ain't it? Built it myself, I did. Oh, the name's Red Timber by the way, pleased to make your acquaintance my dear...”

“Sweetie Belle,” she said promptly, then tilted her head at a question that came to mind. “What are you doing living out in the woods? It seems kind of lonely.”

“Well, that's a long story, young lady. Written in many reasons, and most of the reasons have long since disappeared, but I still have one reason. But never you mind that, children shouldn't need to listen to an old pony's empty reasons,” Red Timber said with a shake of his head. “Though, I must say, young Sweetie Belle, ye certainly have a beautiful voice. Tell me young'un, where did ye learn that song?”

“I don't know,” she admitted a bit sheepishly. “But I know that somepony must have sung it to me when I was just a foal.”

“I see,” he said with a weary sigh. “So, what where ye up to, young Sweetie Belle, that had ye outside my window singing a lover's lullaby.”

“Well, I'm heading to Canterlot, but I didn't know exactly how far it was when I left. But I'm almost there.”

“Well, ye must have had quite the adventure, with a mane as tangled as that,” he replied and slowly made his way over to his dresser. “Reminds me of all my days I spent in the woods.” Reaching into a drawer he pulled out a hoof-brush and set it on the bed. “Go on girl, sit down, and use the mirror and fix up yer hair, and I'll get the porridge.”

Sweetie Belle smiled appreciatively, glad that the old pony didn't want to pry into her situation, and even more glad that she could finally pry out some of the knots and tangles in her mane. Sitting atop the bed and placing the hoof-brush snugly upon a fore-hoof, she turned to face the mirror.

It was a disaster to say the least, and frankly she was surprised that only a few hours ago, Rarity had handled the sight as well as she had. Well, it has to be done, she thought to herself with resignation. This is gonna hurt.

“Why fix it?” a certain voice asked. “It holds a certain rustic charm to it.”

She merely shook her head and grinned sadly, it had to be done.

She had only just begun, when a hot bowl of porridge and a steaming cup of tea were set upon the nightstand beside her. Progress upon her mane was about as slow as she had expected. Sometimes she envied Scootaloo and Apple Bloom for not having the curls that she did, but the feeling was always fleeting. For even on the most horrendous of hair incidents, she could always imagine hearing her sister complimenting her whenever she finished brushing it out.

Glad for the break, she set aside the brush and dug into the warm meal. “Thanks, Red!” It felt as though ages had passed since she last had a real meal, food had never tasted so delectable to the filly.

The aged stallion offered a simple smile. “My pleasure, little lady,” he said as he made his way back to the rocking-chair. He sat down idly sipping at a cup of tea and started humming.

Sweetie Belle hummed along as she finished off her meal. Warm and sated, all she needed to do was fix up her mane, and catch a bit of sleep, then she would feel whole again. But brushing could be an arduous and boring task, so the filly decided to make a request.

“Hey, Red,” she called to the old pony, as she gabbed a hold of the brush and began working out the toughest of the tangles. “Can you tell me how you got your cutie mark?”

End of Chapter 18

Author's Note:

Sorry about that mix up earlier, and thanks for reading.
~Silentbelle