Incident On the Way To Mareimount Fair
Incident On the Way To Mareimont Fair
by
De Writer(Glen Ten-Eyck)
© 2015 by Glen Ten-Eyck
Cover Art by Snowstorm
6942 words
The brownish donkey with the faded white muzzle of old age was ambling along the countryside road. His time of mourning for his last wife was over. He was cheerfully contemplating his upcoming meeting with Black Lotus, a beautiful Exotic Dressage dancing horse that he had known since she was foaled. They often met at the Mareimont Fair. He had just sent her a message, a few moments ago.
He was passing an old fall of large stones from the cliff that shaded this part of the road. He felt the familiar squashy thump of a heavy spear, gripped in green unicorn magic, being driven through his body.
Looking down and back at the point protruding from the side of his abdomen, Marchhare grumbled, “Dear Celestia's Mother! Please, not another idiot!”
Turning to the horrified green unicorn who was still futilely to cause something that resembled harm to the old donkey, Marchhare said sarcastically, “I suppose that I should say “ouch” or some such thing. Not going to though. Now show some semblance of intelligence and let go of that stupid spear.”
When the green unicorn failed to do so, Marchhare grimaced in irritation, turned as if there was no spear piercing through his side and bucked the unicorn in the lower jaw with both hind hooves at once. The unicorn dropped like a rock, unconscious.
The spear, no longer held up by a magic grip, simply fell through Marchhare's body as if it was air. It's fall speeded by a stamping hoof, the metal point made a ringing clatter as it hit the stones of the road.
Marchhare turned to the remaining two attackers, who were staring dumbfounded at their big, powerful, and fallen comrade. “Now. You two can lay down that sword and those ropes. If you do not, I will be forced to get unpleasant.”
The mauve unicorn with the sword swung it viciously at Marchhare's neck. It passed through so easily that the unicorn, in surprise, lost control of the weapon. Marchhare horrified the unicorn worse by grabbing the weapon in a firm grip of blue magic. He wrapped the mauve unicorn's horn in a tight blanket of glaring blue, almost too bright to look at.
Panicked, the mauve attacker tried to thrust his magic through the grip of the unnatural seeming blue magic. His failure was spectacularly fatal. The backblast of his violent magical burst sheeted out down the length of his body, from his horn, down his spine to his tail. It was a gory eruption of blood, shattered bone and mauve magic.
He lay still in the pool of his own gore. There was not even a twitch to show that the mauve one had ever been a living thing.
The remaining attacker, a dusty yellow Earth pony, was not horrified. Terrified was more like it. He cowered down and let the ropes that he had for tying victims drop.
Dryly, Marchhare observed, “Very sensible. Continue to be sensible and you can live through this little incident.”
They both heard the jingling of harness bells indicating horses in a hurry. In a few moments a band of horses came into view. They were garmented in sashes of brocades with coins, bells and fringes. They had straps and harness of the finest tooled leather and headstall plumes or wide brimmed, brightly decorated hats.
The dusty yellow Earth pony growled under his breath, “Just what we need now! Damned gypsies!”
The old donkey smiled in genuine warmth and, addressing the lead unicorn stallion who was wearing a wide brimmed hat, Marchhare said in courtly tones, “Rom! My good friend! I am pleased that you saw fit to come. I did send a message that it would not be needed.”
Gravely the one addressed as Rom, swept his hat off in respect and replied, “When one of our own has trouble, we come, needed or no.” Glancing about at the mess, he began to issue orders to the other stallions of the group. They scattered to search the fallen rocks and other possible hiding places nearby. One quietly gathered up the sword, spear and, from the unconscious and dead, knives, purses and other useful goods. He laid them at the hooves of Rom.
Three mares in their brilliantly decorated brocade and satin dressage sashes all had eyes only for Marchhare.
One of them, a beautiful, richly sashed and plumed black unicorn with white mane and tail, broke ranks and dashed forward to embrace Marchhare. “Dad! I was so worried about you! I know that they can't hurt you with weapons but having to kill always upsets you so!
“With Mother gone to the Lake, I know how sad you have been.” She paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You were such a pillar of strength for us all while she was passing. I know what it cost you. I saw you weeping by her Lake so many nights.
“No horse else saw you come or go. I have missed you so much.”
Marchhare, returned the hug and held her tight. “Black Lotus, my dear daughter. I let you see my coming and going. I wanted you to be sure that, with your mother, Hoof Dancer, gone to the Earthen Lake, you knew that you were not alone.”
One of the other mares, though as well decorated as the younger ones, was clearly far older, asked, “It has been a year and a half since we put Hoof Dancer's ashes to the Earthen Lake, Marchhare. Are you coming back to your family soon?“
Looking up from the embrace of his daughter, Marchhare replied, “I have never truly left you, White Flower. It was simply difficult to be close. The memories of Hoof Dancer ageing and passing while I did not were painful. She was a wonderful mate, even at the end. I loved her deeply.”
Black Lotus finally let go. She sat at her father's hooves giving him an adoring look. In spite of where she was looking, she spoke to Rom and White Flower. “You know that dad made sure to look in on us. I shared all of his notes with you. It was him that delivered the money to free Sangre from the false criminal charge. We may not see him, but he is never far from his family.”
Marchhare was saying, “True, Black Lotus, I do keep . . . You!”
His head snapped about, catching a clear view of what he'd seen from the corner of his eye, “Quit trying to sneak off, you Dirty Dunn, unless you WANT to be far worse off than you are already!”
The dusty yellow pony tried to gallop away. A flash of magics, blue, two reds, a white, and a bright yellow all entrapped his legs at once. He hit the ground of the road hard, tumbling twice before ending up laying on his side. Whimpering. In pain. And humiliation.
Bringing his daughter, Black Lotus, with him, Marchhare strolled over and looked down. He observed, “Good. Nothing broken, just strains, sprains and bruises. You are very lucky. A tumble like that is near guaranteed when you try to run from a half dozen unicorns. Every one of them got you. Even Black Lotus is holding you.”
The old donkey turned to the stone pile and called out, “Nice leg grip, Sangre! Would you be so kind as to come down here and secure both of the robbers with those ropes of theirs?”
A dark purple unicorn came down from the rocks. His magic was carrying four sets of saddle packs. Each one bulging with goods. He had a grave expression on his face as he laid the loot before Rom.
“I will tie these ponies, Magister Rom. In honor, we may not take these bags, yet I did not wish to leave them where they were.” He spat to one side.
“That these were murderers, we already knew. We did not know that they tied and tortured ponies before killing them. We found two dead in that way. Yet we have four packs.”
Rom looked down at the packs and thought carefully. “The Honor of all the Rom is at stake here. We may take what the robbers had of their own. That is just.
“These packs are filled with goods meant for the Fair. If those two who are not here have lived, they need their things. If they have died, their families need them.
“To be sure that they are not despoiled in our absence, we shall take the packs to the constables in Mareimont. They will then do with them according to the Laws of Celestia.”
Sangre nodded, “It is well. If any horses know of want it is the Rom. I will bind the killers.” He turned and set to his task. First he bound the unconscious pony, then began on the dusty yellow pony.
He promptly began a futile effort at kicking. When that failed, he snarled, “Let me at that cheating donkey! He took us down foul! He got some vile magic that ain't like any unicorn or other honest critter!”
All of the Rom made a show of looking at the elderly donkey. Marchhare looked back with wounded innocence.
“Me? Unfair? My goodness and Celestia's Mother! I seem to recall some idiot with a spear missing me entirely. I mean, as old and infirm as I am, I bucked him in the jaw when he refused to drop that spear when asked.
“You youngsters were and are just totally out of shape. That is all. How else do you explain getting beat by one old donkey? Magic? Are you really going to say MAGIC? In a DONKEY?”
The assorted Rom were whickering in amusement.
Furious and knowing that nopony would believe that he had seen powerful magic from a donkey, the fallen pony yelled at Black Lotus, “That old donkey ain't your dad or you'd be MULE! Your mom was a Whorse!”
Dead silence followed. Black Lotus, fury on her features, reared to her hind legs and began a brilliantly sharp clipping tune of hoof to hoof beats. She began to sway and started a wild looking but clearly precise dance of high lifted hooves and hard-driven stamps that blasted small plumes of dust where her hooves hit.
Slightly puzzled about her intent but backing her absolutely, the rest of the band joined into the rhythm of the dancing tune.
White Flower produced a flute and its wailing notes joined the tune, guided by Black Lotus' stamping hooves.
Black Lotus ended the tune and dance suddenly. She was balanced on her left hind hoof. It was planted solidly next to the neck of the dusty yellow stallion. Her right hind hoof was raised high, just above his windpipe. She glared down at him.
Looking up, the dusty yellow stallion realized that he was looking death in the eye. Very softly, Black Lotus said, “You will apologize for your vile remark about my dead mother or you will join her. I will allow no words but apology or I will stamp my full weight on your windpipe. You will choke and drown in your own blood.
“Apology! Now!”
The dusty yellow stallion swallowed hard. The glare in the eyes of the reared unicorn mare told him that she did not mean to use her magic to destroy him. And destroy him she would.
He knew that there was no bargaining with the chained fury above him. “I am sorry that I said those words, Ma'am. I was angered and not thinking clear.”
He saw her spare part of a glance at the old donkey. He made a millimetric nod. Above him, the deadly dancer said, “The loved dead are with us always. Apologize to Hoof Dancer herself.”
Not understanding the custom but aware that his life depended on it, the yellow offered, “Mrs. Hoof Dancer, wherever you are, I said a bad thing of you, out of anger, and I am deeply sorry.”
With horror, he saw the left hoof in front of him leave the ground. The hard-driven right hoof hit exactly where the left had been and the black mare leaped lightly across his untouched neck, almost seeming to float. She landed, going seamlessly into a different dance. A joyous one.
The old donkey, Marchhare happily joined her. They were doing a hind leg standing dressage popping their forehooves together, hers to his, in a staccato rhythm as they danced. The rest of the band paired off and formed a circle about the dancing pair. Their four legged steps were easily as complex as the steps of Black Lotus and her father.
After a few minutes of dance, Rom called a halt and began organizing the return to Mareimont. Neither the green unicorn, now clearly horn capped by a red magic, nor the dusty yellow pony were even allowed the dignity of hobbles. They were bodily lifted by solid unicorn magic and carried like sacks of vegetables.
The Chief Constable of Mareimont was shaking his head in irritation and embarrassment. There was a large crowd gathered about. He had been starting to recruit a big posse to go and root out the robbers from up the road.
Now, the robbers were laid in the dirt at his hooves, their weapons handed over, and the gathered loot placed neatly next to him on the raised walk in front of the Town Hall. Every pony could see what had been given. That was a separate irritation.
The real embarrassment was even more basic. The captors were ROM. The damn gypsies. They just wandered wherever they wanted to in those Caravans, as they called their fancy wagon homes. They always showed up for the Fair. Never showed for the farm work that made the Fair possible. No account dancers, musicians, makers of toys, jewelry, small slight of hoof magic tricks and trouble. Always trouble. Like this.
Sourly, the Chief Constable said, “You didn't have to do this! We can take care of robbers ourselves. We were just getting the posse together to go and catch them or chase them out of the area!”
The old donkey cocked his head curiously, “Indeed? So, all that I needed to do was let them kill and rob me. You would have been along directly to clean up the mess? Got a necromancer unicorn in the town to bring me back to be with my family? Maybe you can bring back the two dead ones that we left up there in the big rock fall? Save these two a murder charge if you can!”
The Chief Constable snapped, “Necromancy is illegal! 'Sides, a donkey like you, AND Rom besides, ain't no loss to anypony!”
That was too much for Black Lotus. Stepping forward with that grace that only a trained dancer can muster, she stopped short of the Chief Constable and looked him up and down. Her lip curled in disgust. Her tone, though, was so gentle that it took a second for the words to penetrate.
“I am quite sure that YOUR children and community would never miss you. We would miss this donkey who is my father and a most respected member of our community.”
The Chief Constable actually felt ashamed. He lowered his head and said, “Sorry, Ma'am. I was carried away by temper.”
Raising his head he glared at old Marchhare. “You got some serious explaining to do, old Donkey. How did one old, beat up and worn out donkey take out two unicorns and a husky earth pony? Hunh?”
Marchhare sat in the dirt of the street, between the two fallen ruffians and gazed up at the Chief Constable with a bit of a grin. “It was easy. All too easy.” He lightly clopped the side of the green unicorn's head with a forehoof. “This pony has just about the slowest magical reflexes that I have ever seen. And I am old.
“His attempt to thrust at me missed . . .”
Marchhare was interrupted by an indignant snort of, “I did not either miss!” from the green one.
The old donkey serenely pointed out, “You have just confessed to attempted murder in front of a good part of the town, including the Chief Constable.
“As I was saying, “When his thrust miscarried, I stomped the spear out of his grip. I tried to tell him to stop. Instead, he tried to regain control of his spear. I said he was slow. I bucked him in the jaw. Pony down.
“The other one, Maurice, I gather his name was, had a sword.
“Tell me Constable, what happens if you have a horn tangle in your magic and try to power it out? Right. Easy to clear. Backblast if you don't. He did it to himself. From the amount of damage that happened to him, he was really trying to put a lot of power into the swing. Pony down.
“This ugly yellow fellow had the sense to give up. I think that he was afraid that I was using some sort of magic. My friends arrived, we tied him up. Pony down.
“We picked up the survivors, their highly stealable loot and came back. We handed it all to you. Sorry if our timely aid embarrassed you. Didn't really have a big choice there except to play pincushion. Not a favorite pass-time for me.”
The Chief Constable casually hoofed the robber's weapons back, out of easy sight. He was particularly careful to move the sword out of sight behind the pack saddles of loot.
To distract attention as he did so, he snapped, “You gypsies have to settle down. New Celestia and Luna proclamation demand it!”
The Rom looked aghast at each other. Words flew from their mouths in shock. “She would never do that to us!” and Black Lotus weeping as she said, “My God Mothers! How could you?”
Marchhare, the old donkey, calmly retorted, “That is a lie! I have both seen and heard the proclamation.
“It says that we have the right to the ownership and use of property. We may now own and run shops or other businesses. It says nothing about HAVING to settle down. In fact, it give us the rights to the open roads of Celestia's Realm and we may camp for free in any publicly available space, including road shoulders, resting areas, camp and fairgrounds.”
The Chief Constable snapped, “Shut it, old DONKEY. You can't prove none of that! The proclamation is in the TOWN offices were you GYPSIES got no rights!”
Marchhare's eyebrows and long, donkey ears wiggled expressively along with his unsettling grin as he said, “Oh, really? Then we will just have to make do with this perfectly genuine original copy. The Royal Chancery's delivery pony was asking after the Band of Rom.
“When he found that I was returning after my period of mourning for Hoof Dancer, he entrusted Rom's OFFICIALLY ADDRESSED copy to me.” Reaching into his shoulder pouch, he produced a document made of Royal Parchment. The big Royal and Chancery Seals intact.
Ponies several ranks back were able to hear the Chief Constable's teeth grinding. It only got worse when two, large, apparently unicorns, stepped to the forefront beside Marchhare. They were completed veiled by bright, silk-like fabric except for their eyes and their horns, one white, one black. As big as the black horned unicorn appeared to be, the white horned one was substantially larger. The white horned one spoke in a soft but carrying voice.
“HAS the Proclamation actually been read out and Proclaimed to the ponies of Mareimont?”
The Chief Constable's eyes took a shifty glance about before he replied, “It was of no importance! It don't affect the ponies of Mareimont at all. It was just about the damned gypsies and none was in town at the time!”
The soft voice pressed, “WAS IT PROCLAIMED? The Law of Celestia and Luna REQUIRES PROCLAMATION.”
The Chief Constable's lip curled in disgust and anger. “I said it don't matter none and that mean it don't. Shut it now you gypsy WHORSE or I am having you arrested! Got it? Jail.
“Fact, I don't like your attitude none at all. Sargent Hayburn! Take them two now! Chuck them in a cell charged with Whorsedom!” He leaned casually against a porch post of the Town Hall to watch his order carried out.
Sargent Hayburn's pale straw colored magic was reaching for the two mares when the black horned one unleashed a powerful sweep of magic the colors of the moon and midnight sky.
The Chief Constable and all of his minions, along with the whole town council, were laid flat and bound. Her night sky magic was joined by the sun and daytime sky colored magic of the larger unicorn. The prisoners were all horn capped by magic that glowed like the sun itself.
Soldiers in the armor of Celestia's Guard appeared like magic and took firm charge of the prisoners.
The night colored horn magic lifted and folded the veils from the two. They were not unicorns. Alicorns. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stood revealed proudly, standing alongside the old donkey, Marchhare. The utterly flabbergasted and aghast Chief Constable was only beginning to comprehend the enormity of his blunder.
He burst out, “Your Highnesses! You have made a huge mistake! I was out of line with you, but you was disguised like some of these miscreants and I thought you was part of the gang! See, they done some murders up the road and stole all this here loot. Their plot was to claim it if no pony did. They knew that it was not going to be claimed 'cause the owners of at least half the loot was dead!
“We was letting them dig themselves deeper into the mire before arresting them. That donkey there is the ringleader of the lot!”
The soft but carrying voice of Celestia replied, “Marchhare? I hardly think so. We have known him for over six hundred years. For all of that time, both my sister and I have been godmothers to his fillies and colts.”
The Chief Constable blew a disbelieving lip flutter and demanded, “How can any pony, OR donkey for that matter, live that long? I mean, excepting your Highnesses, of course.”
Marchhare gave the fallen and bound Chief Constable a quizzical look, one ear half flopped over. It was Princess Luna who answered, though. “Whatever gave you the idea that Marchhare is alive? I thought that you were a unicorn. USE your magical senses to see him, not your eyes. I will uncap your horn so that you can try.” Her night sky magic ready to block any foolish attack, she undid the capping of his horn.
Squinting his eyes shut, even bound, he tried to recoil in shock. His eyes flew wide. “He ain't there! I can see him! Why ain't he there?”
The horn capping re done, Luna said, “The Rom call him the Ghost Who Guides. If it helps at all, WE can't feel his presence either.”
Black Lotus knelt into a formal Canterlot Court curtsy before the Princesses and asked, “It has been asked about my dear father. May I tell the tale of it?”
Celestia touched Black Lotus with her horn and said, “God Daughter, it would be an honor. The tale of your people always moves me.”
Many of the watching Rom took out various instruments and began to play a soft, gentle air, not at all like their usual brisk and happy tunes. Black Lotus rose to her hind legs, assuming her dressage dancing stance. She began to sway to the soft tune and began to narrate, ”Eight hundred years past, the world was not then as it is now. Saddle Arabia did not yet exist. In the Eastern quarter of that land was the Kingdom of Gyptia. It is from Gyptia that we came.
“The Kingdom was visited by a famine and drought. Horses fled for their lives. The band that became the Rom found themselves lost in the desert still known as Celestia's Anvil.
“We were near to death from want of water and hay. In that desperate hour an old donkey, pulling a wagon laden with hay and water casks found us.
“With that generosity that has endured to this day, Marchhare the donkey gave us his hay. He walked beside us and carried the weak. He saw to the rations to make them last.
“Finally, after days on the Anvil we saw mountains meet sky. The hay was gone and most of the barrels with water were dry.
“Marchhare pointed to a steep sided pass and told us to go there as quickly as we could. “A ways into the pass is a spring and about it the grass is growing green. Go there, my friends.
“For me, I am tired. In the shade by those rocks I will rest. My life has been long but not much to tell. The best that you can do is go find that well.” That was the first that we noticed that he'd given us all of his hay. We knew, with grief, that our friend would soon pass away.
“We found the pass and the spring that still we call Life. The grass there was good. We rested and mourned.
“Three days we stayed by the spring we call Life. Up to us trotted our friend Marchhare. He asked politely, “That water looks good. Do you have some to spare? The passes here are tricksy and you still need a guide.”
“We asked him if he knew that he'd died. “I don't remember that,” he replied. “I think I'd have noticed. I fell asleep in the shade. When I awoke, I felt better so I followed along.
“In these mountain passes it is easy to go wrong. I never should have left you while there was still much to do.”
“Through the mountains to safety he brought us, to this rich land. There was no place that would let us settle our band. We kept to the roads that are now our life.
“Marchhare has stayed with us through all of the years. Guided us to safety in times of fears.”
Black Lotus ended her narration and dance bowed to the road at the hooves of Celestia and Luna.
Celestia wept. Luna had tears at the corners of her eyes. She bowed her head to Black Lotus and touched her with her midnight horn. “My dear God Daughter, Black Lotus, the Rom of the Roads of Equestria have endured enough. They have no need to bow before Us who, for too long, tolerated the evils done against them.
“I can only say in Our defense, that We knew not of it until De Writer saw fit to put your problems into the Chronicle of Equestria. The one thing that has been certain and true for longer than our reign, never favoring any, are those words that he sees fit to put in the Chronicle for our guidance.
Even though Marchhare's fillies and colts have been Our God Fillies and God Colts for six hundred years, living in Canterlot, we were blind to the world that they lived in. We only saw you at fairs.”
Marchhare said gently, “None of us faults you. You have had a kingdom to run and that is hard, time consuming, work. We do know that. I did ask De Writer to give you some knowledge of what is happening here.
“I expected that you would hear about the use of the Fair as a lure to commit robbery and murder of merchants coming to sell goods at the Fair. He seems to have written more than that.”
Dryly, Celestia observed, “A good bit more. There have been Proclamations and Edicts ignored. War equipage is being made. The robberies, thefts and murders were only a symptom of a deadlier disease.”
Turning to one of the armored Guards, she asked, “Guard Captain Lightning Rays, have your Royal Guard ponies carried out the searches that We gave warrants for?”
He trotted closer and handed over a stack of parchment. “Yes, Princess Celestia, they were. We needed to act quickly, without warrant, on a few more searches led to by the Warrants. That evidence is now secure and awaiting your decision as to admissibility.
“The insurrection has been stopped before an armed conflict could begin.”
All of the Rom, most of the listening and watching townsponies and some come early for the Fair, all registered shock at Captain Lightning Rays' announcement. Marchhare suddenly sat his rump in the dirt of the street. Both of his long ears drooped from about half way up, somewhat comically, except for his expression.
Looking at his Princess for some sign of a bizarre jest, he asked, “Insurrection? A revolt against your Highnesses? Are you sure? De Writer never mentioned that to me. It was suggested that I come to Mareimont by the North Road. I ran into robbers. De Writer has done that to me before because he knows that I can't be harmed or die.” His face twisted comically. “Again.”
Reaching a hind hoof up to scratch behind his left ear, he thought carefully. “Hate to admit that I missed it, but it does make sense. That is an unauthorized military type spear that they tried to use. Same for the sword. I did see Constable Armory markings on it when it was gathered up. Military style weapons like that are hard to come by.”
Both the dusty yellow prisoner and his green unicorn counterpart were trying to follow what was happening, when it hit the yellow pony like a bomb. “I tol' you that he was some sort of cheat! Ain't fair! Foul donkey is a damn ghost!”
The Chief Constable could see where that was likely to go and snapped, “Just shut it, Eustace! Keep it shut. You are about to be charged with treason! Think that you can manage to keep it shut now?”
Eustace retorted, “US? We didn't go buck the whole plan into the middle of last week just to grab a few damn bits!”
A grimly smiling Princess Luna stepped delicately over and looked down at the talkative Eustace. “Would you care, Eustace, to elaborate on those remarks? My sister and I are most interested in them.”
There was a menacing nimbus of midnight magic gathered about her horn. Eustace shivered, even though the day was warm, and cringed, “Is there any way to beg a Mercy of the Law, Princess Luna? It was all a huge mess but I do know a good bit of it.”
Luna calmly replied, “Whether you may have a Mercy of the Law will depend on how valuable what you tell is. We do not offer a Mercy without knowing if we should first. Bear in mind that I know for a fact that you helped in two cold blooded murders and attempted to kill a personal friend of Ours.
“We are not Godmothers to his fillies and colts for no reason.”
Eustace shivered. The Chief Constable was having none of it. He yelled, “Shut it, Eustace! Them criminal weapons was in your hooves! Them there, Princess! They's the ones that you wants! I tole you we was layin' a trap!”
Princess Luna turned her lovely head in the Chief Constable's direction, a look of disdain on her face.
“Chief Constable, I would ask just how stupid you think We are. It is not necessary. Your statement just revealed your opinion of Our intelligence.
“The reports that my sister and I have just read, reveal you as the HIGH COMMISSIONER of EQUESTRIAN FREEDOM. The pony in charge of the whole plot. Our Guard is even now rounding up your accomplices in the neighboring villages. This revolt is OVER.
“It does lead to one question though. WHY revolt at all? We find many documents where you refer your right of local self rule being trampled beneath the Royal Hoof. Nowhere can we find what you mean by that. What rights of local self rule are We supposed to have trampled?”
The Chief Constable's horn, now capped by Luna's Midnight Magic, made a slashing gesture that included the Rom standing about watching. “Them! Deny it! This last year, you is been showering them worthless Rom with all kind of Special Rights. You has canceled local ordinances to control them that been around since time immemorial!”
While Celestia watched with an amused look, Luna snapped back at him, “WE DO DENY IT! This whole town has only existed less than twenty five years. Time immemorial does not apply. We have not set aside any local ordinances except those that deny any free citizen of Equestria their proper rights under Royal Law! All that we have done is give the Rom the same rights that you enjoy without thought.”
The Chief Constable demanded, “Oh, yes? What of that there Freedom of the Road and free camping at Fairs?”
Luna instantly shot back, “WHO ACTUALLY OWNS THE ROADS OF EQUESTRIA? They and all fairgrounds are ROYAL PROPERTY. We let you administer them and maintain them. WE PAY YOU for those services to OUR ROADS and FAIRGROUNDS. All that we have done is allow OUR FRIENDS to use our own property without charge.”
Marchhare interrupted, while standing on three legs, neck bent around. He was using his left hind hoof to scrubble firmly at the root of his left ear. “Pardon, Your Highness. It appears that the revolt situation is in hoof. Got a different question, though. If you pull the town's self rule status down to village, as it appears that you might, what will happen to the Fair? Got to be a Town or City to hold a Fair.
“Seems to me that could be rough on a lot of innocent ponies. Many have come considerable distances to be here for it. Others have heavy investments in merchandise and contracted sales or show space. Even we Rom have a stake in it.”
He paused and a tear escaped his eye. “It gave us a reason to come here, not far from Hoof Dancer's Earthen Lake. It lets us go to visit with her.”
Luna visibly softened. She said, “The Loved Dead are always with us. I know some of what you are feeling. I loved Hoof Dancer too. Perhaps I was going to go too far. I will ask my sister.”
Celestia smiled. “I was watching, Luna. You are learning the Art of Rule very well. It is easy to go too far. It is also easy to be too lenient. Balances must be struck. Since this objection has come from one that we respect, it deserves consideration. Think carefully and then decide.”
Marchhare grinned and added, “And don't forget to leave room to alter things if circumstances change. Don't want another De Writer Banishment Edict.”
Surprising many of the watchers, Luna accepted the minor rebuke with a graceful nod. Turning to Guard Captain Lightning Rays, she asked, “Captain Lightning Rays, are there enough of the town's officials left free to properly put on the Fair?”
The Captain consulted several lists, running an expert hoof down the lines of writing, and making notes. He looked up and said, “Your Highness, there are. The actual work of the fair is handled mostly by lower ranking ponies who have nothing to do with the revolt. They will need a single pony to coordinate their work, as the Mayor of Mareimont is presently in custody.”
Luna's serious expression brightened. She grinned. Speaking in the amazingly loud and carrying Royal Canterlot Voice, she proclaimed, “The Town of Mareimont may remain a Town with a Fair provided that a new Council shall be chosen by the Town's present Charter and approved by a Royal Review before next Hearthwarming!
“This Fair is already in train and shall continue. As one with an interest in the Fair, it being on lawfully Royal land, I shall coordinate the work of those putting it on. Those concerned with the work of the Fair, report to me in two hours time to show me what has been done and still needs doing.”
Marchhare grinned in return and said, “Very neatly done, Your Highness. Got yourself out of Royal Court business for the whole next week! Won't be easy, but way simpler than that trade diplomacy you have been stuck with.”
Celestia was hiding a big grin behind a royal hoof. She knew exactly what Luna had just let herself in for. A Fair, any fair, is an amazingly complicated event to manage.
A few days later, Luna was standing in the shade of a tree on the Fairgrounds, looking with satisfaction at the bustling midway. Games, displays, and booths full of things for sale were doing an active business. As always, the gypsy Encampment was one of the most active places.
Ponies came from all over to see their exotic costumes and hear the wild Rom music, so unlike the regular music of Equestria. The amazing Dressage dances of the gypsies and their wonderful food were huge draws. The ponies that came for the gypsies stayed for the rest of the Fair and fed its businesses, boosting the local economy.
There was a small committee with her, each one having pressing business. She looked over the presented problems and made a few decisions. The rest, she handed back.
“You, gentle ponies, can easily settle these things between you. They are simple scheduling. You can not all be first, after the obstacle race. Choose however you want. I would suggest throwing dice or drawing straws. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business of my own.”
She left the committee sorting things out and made for the iced drinks booth. Sipping her sweet drink, she entered the Rom encampment. She watched the dancers near the big fire for a little and then went to a particular, gaily painted caravan.
A watcher appeared like magic to say, “The caravans are horses' homes and . . . Princess, I am sorry. Black Lotus is in her caravan along with her father. Would you like to call on them or shall I get them for you?”
Luna smiled at him and said, “I will find them myself, Sangre. Thank you. I am pleased to see that you were freed of that false charge. I was ready to intervene on your behalf but it proved unnecessary.” She dipped her horn to him and passed on to the caravans.
She knocked. Black Lotus answered the door. Old Marchhare was sitting at his jeweler's bench, twisting some silver wire. He looked up from his work and put it down. Reaching for his tabor drum, he asked, “Ready for your Dressage lesson? We have been waiting for you.”
Luna grinned and replied, “I sure am! Fair business! I would never have dreamed how hard it is to do one right!”
Black Lotus laid a hoof familiarly on Luna's shoulder and said, “If it helps at all, this is being one of the best run fairs that we have been to in years.”
They found a nice shady place and Marchhare beat an introduction on his tabor. White Flower came up with her flute and the music began. Guided only lightly by touches of pure blue magic from the horn of Black Lotus, her teacher, Luna began to dance.
They were concentrating on her wing work. It was a long and exhausting session for them both. After it was over, they were sitting companionably in the shade of Black Lotus's caravan discussing the use of her wings as both display and concealment during the dance. Marchhare brought fruit and vegetable skewers, still sizzling from the grill. He also had their drinks.
As Luna accepted hers she said softly, “The loved dead are always with us.” She tipped a few drops of her drink in Marchhare's direction. She went on, “Both Celestia and I regret that we could not attend Hoof Dancer's Lake.”
Comfortingly, Marchhare replied, “None may fault you. While you were both here, before the Fair, you did go to see her, as befits a friend visiting another friend. Those negotiations that delayed you from being there when we put her ashes to the Earthen Lake prevented a war. Hoof Dancer knew that and forgives you.”
Later, Luna got up and went back to the interminable business of making sure that the Fair ran smoothly. In their Caravan, Black Lotus and her father nestled in the sleeping stall as they had since she was foaled.
As he slept, the pale blue magic holding his disguise as Marchhare unraveled and the old blue unicorn De Writer, the long ago banished Chronicler of Equestria, lay beside his daughter.
Tears misted her eyes as she wished that somehow, some way, the Princesses could find a way to undo the ancient Edict of Banishment that had cast him from their sight. She loved her father so much and he loved his Princesses so. The Edict had no loophole and, sworn on the Creation Magic of their mother, it was beyond their power to undo, now that they repented of their hasty action, ages ago.
Black Lotus cried herself to sleep as she had so many times since she found out, as an older filly, that the Godmothers that she adored could not even see the father that she loved if they knew him for who he was.
--The End--
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I got halfway through this before i had to stop. Partly because it's poorly written, seems to go nowhere specific, and oh my god... the inaccuracies. The Rom? Roma is plural. Rom is not only singular, it's outdated and phased out of use in the late 1800's. Another acceptable term is Romani, alternatively spelled Romany. Also, you have a character named Rom? After his 'kind'? That seems eerily familiar. Probably a coincidence, but that seems very similar to my OC, Roma Heart... who is a gypsy... like myself. I'm being serious. I promise, I'm not accusing you of plagerism. But hey, let's talk about those inaccuracies!
No. No sashes of brocades. Yes, coins, but only when performing, and it's typically a scarf or sheet of colored linen with coins attached via small metal rings. Sometimes, you see them in a scale mail-type designs, consisting of a sheet of chain mail with coins affixed to it. These are commonly known as 'hip scarves'. I have two (one in each fabirc type), as I practice belly dancing. No bells. No fringes. Finest tooled leather? Absolutely not. Gypsies are poor most often. Head stall plumes? No. Even the actual gypsies didn't do that to their horses.Brightly decorated hats? No. Gypsy men (or stallions, I guess) wore a white shirt, simple trousers, maybe a waistcoat. Gypsy women wore long, solid colored skirts unless it was a dance outfit. Then it was something akin to cascade style tie-dye. Their top was a simple white shirt, depending on the country they stayed in. My god did you even do your research?
And... what the hell is the earthen lake? Where the hell did you even get that? That sounds like something you got from a bad source. Also, Gypsies don't typically spread ashes after cremation. Some caravans have been known to burn their deceased, but it is typically a proper burial, minus a headstone. You get a wooden cross, if you're lucky.
And another thing, what about fortune tellers? I see dancers, merchants, musicians... around the 18th century, it became commonplace to see tarot card readers and crystal ball gazers, and hand readers in caravans. I'm a fortune teller. I do it at conventions.
I'm sorry to be so hard on you, but this is really innacurate. If you are going to write about Gypsies, do so with proper research.
Oh, and dancing was never used in combat, despite the fact that belly dancers often dance with scimitars. It was an art used to make money and to celebrate.
I would advise rewriting this after doing proper research. But hey, who am I to to tell you what to do?
6409993
Generous Gypsy: IF YOU HAD BOTHERED TO READ THE STORY you would have found that the ROM are NOT GYPSIES! They are a completely unique culture!
YOU HAVE ALSO FORGOTTEN THAT THIS IS A FANTASY.
Your complaint is like saying that Conan the Barbarian is no good because it is not accurate history!
FORTUNE TELLERS? Not while the immortal De Writer (magically disguised as Marchhare) lives! He is their Ghost Who Guides. In the Orb of the Ages he can see ANY PAST event. The FUTURE IS FORBIDDEN. Technically, it does not exist at all except as a concatenation of mathematical probability.
I am totally aware of the singular and plural issues. The Rom are so named from the leader of the first band of them.
Sorry to Shoot Back but there are several MAJOR THINGS THAT YOU OVERLOOKED
1. THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE
2. THE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE IS OF MLP, NOT EARTH.
3. THE ABOVE TWO POINTS MAKE COMPARING THESE ROM with EARTH Gypsies is like comparing a pancake to a flat tire. And then complaining about the taste of the tire.
6411037 My problem with these inaccuracies is that, in the short description, you said that the Rom were
You can't make that comparison and not follow through with it. These 'Rom' of yours are nothing like gypsies. At all.
Another problem is that they are called the Rom. You claim that they are a unique culture and are not gypsies. If they aren't gypsies, then why would you call them by an identical term? That's kind of insulting, actually.
If you are going to create a unique culture, then you shouldn't use a name that already belongs to another.
As for your Conan the Barbarian argument? That's invalid. Barbarians aren't a culture. Barbarian is an adjective used to describe a an individual lacking refinement or of a savage nature. Conan fits that.
I really would suggest changing th... wait a damn second...
This repeated several times throughout the story.
You've contradicted yourself. I'll rest my case.
6411268
Take the trouble to crack open a dictionary.
All of your objections are based gypsy (NOT capitalized) "one who wanders from place to place like Gypsy : a wanderer."* In short, wanderers who are not Gypsies.
Gypsy (capitalized) refers specifically to your people.
Tell me, why were you not full of outrage at the portrayal of the Buffalo / Native Americans in that episode?
*Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary.
6409993 Rom wear their wealth. My Rom baro taught me to keep money in gold rather than in gorje banks.
Divination and "belly dancing" is rare. Belly dancing is mostly a Persian affectation, anyway. Due to the inherent impurity of the female body parts used in the act, it would be a touchy thing.
You are correct in that we're usually pretty plainly dressed, but our show-clothes are where our money is stored.
Divination was performed, but almost never for gorje. We're actually more known for being the finest metal, stone, and woodworkers of the time we were relevant.
I would advise learning our history before you scream. "Gypsy" is an ethnic slur referring to any traveling people- Irish Travellers aren't remotely related to Rom and they're "Gypsies".
6999280 I admit, I did overreact. It was incredibly immature, and completely uncalled for. At that time I was still learning about our heritage, and I stupidly got offended because it seemed wrong to me. That was childish, and I do apologize for that.
I know better now that I've learned, like, a shit ton more about the subject. I just never came back to apologize to De, and admit that I was mostly out of line.
So, yeah, sorry De Writer. Mostly out of line. Mostly.
Also, I have to admit, Mareimont is a pretty clever name.
6999332 De's a nice guy, and seems generally pretty willing to learn. We've spoken on another of his stories.
Perhaps we should give him a hand.
6999337 Perhaps. Im always to help a fellow writer out.
Well written!