1. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Dread wouldn’t have been the right word for it, but Ditzy Doo certainly approached every day at work during the lead-up to Hearth’s Warming with a fairly large sense of trepidation. Packages came and went through the Ponyville Post Office at immense volume, and every year the Postmaster-General in Canterlot seemed determined to contrive some new way to make things difficult. Her most recent effort in that regard was by mandating that any package that didn’t have a return address on it wasn’t to be sent or, it somehow having been sent anyway, wasn’t to be delivered. Unfortunately the official proclamation from on high didn’t say what to do with the undelivered mail, and so the post ponies, lacking other options, simply stuck any such mail into the backlog room. By this point the joke around the office was that one more letter would cause the whole thing to burst.
There was a rumbling that seemed to shake the whole of the post office, followed by a long string of incoherent cursing. Ditzy and the other mail ponies on duty – it was early morning, so nopony had gone out on their rounds yet – glanced up from what they were doing at the sound, then dashed to the back of the post office. By the time Ditzy got there, she found her boss, Silver Script, extracting himself from a huge pile of letters and packages with some help from other ponies. The letters had spilled out from the post office’s backlog room, which had officially burst its bounds, scattering envelopes and boxes everywhere, most of them Hearth’s Warming-themed.
Silver Script stamped his front hooves and flapped his wings a few times in agitation. “That’s it!” he declared in a voice full of purpose. “I don’t care if they don’t have return addresses. We’re delivering this mess!”
“But the Postmaster-General…” one of the other ponies started, pointing to a board on one wall, against which the mandate of non-delivery had been stuck. Its typeface was very bold and very official-looking, and brooked no room for disagreement or interpretation.
“She’s all the way in Canterlot!” Silver Script countered, as he straightened his uniform and put his hat on snugly, wings spread wide to draw attention to himself. There were fifteen other post ponies on duty, and he began pacing in front of them; the noise was even enough to draw the attention of the small family mice that lived in the walls of the building, who looked on from atop a book case with interest. “But we’re here! We’re the ones on the front line! When was the last time she delivered a package? When was the last time she sorted a stockroom? Years and years ago! She’s forgotten what it’s like to try and make it through a Hearth’s Warming!
“But not us! We’re still here. We still know. This season is hard enough without us having to risk our lives in our own post office too!” he swung his hoof at the nearly-literal mountain of parcels and envelopes that had spilled out of the room, which until recently had been rarely used. His claim was perhaps a bit inflated, but nopony objected, caught as they were in the fire of the moment. “And it’s not just about us. It’s about the ponies of Ponyville! These are their letters, their presents, sent by their families and friends! We can’t just abandon them!
“I’m going to start organizing this. I’m going to sort it all out, and then today, in the name of the Princess, I’m going to deliver it! All of it! No matter what some stuffy bureaucrat in Canterlot thinks!”
“And I’ll help!” Ditzy exclaimed, stepping forward proudly and straightening her own hat as she did, forcing her eyes to look straight ahead as she did so and spreading her wings just as wide as Silver Script's. “I didn’t become a mail mare to not deliver mail!”
“Neither did I!” Exclaimed another post pony. “Especially not during Hearth’s Warming season!”
“That’s right!” A third added. Soon his voice was joined by a chorus of the remaining ponies, then hoof stomps and wing beats and cheering. Somepony grabbed the mandate from the Postmaster-General and tore it from the wall, tossing it in the trash. Another pony started gathering the letters and packages that had spilled out, immediately beginning to sort them. One earth pony pointed to the mice up on the book case, who ran along several book cases until they reached the top of the pile of letters and set up a chain, handing one letter to the next mouse to the one after that, tackling the backlog room from the top down rather than from the outside in. All the other post ponies joined in too, each finding a way to contribute as fit their abilities and strengths and as covered each others' weaknesses.
Silver Script watched the dedication of his ponies (and the mice – he would have to get them a nice big block of cheese for this), their devotion to their duty and their town, with a stallionish tear in his eye for a moment, then set about the job himself, drawing up delivery plans as the Ponyville Post Office came together in an unprecedented way, every pony sorting the mail and shuffling it in with the normal loadouts.
The Ponyville Post Office was half an hour late in opening that day, but by the time it did, the determination and zest possessed by the ponies within impressed the citizens of the town. Only Silver Script, one pony volunteer named Sweet Light, and the mice stayed behind to tend the post office, while the remaining thirteen on-duty members galloped out like ponies possessed to deliver the mail.
“…wait, did we just start some kind of post office civil war?” Sweet Light asked after a few minutes of reflection on what had just happened.
“Can’t hear you, basking in the moment,” Silver Script responded.
---
My little pony, My little pony
Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...
My little pony –
Friendship never meant that much to me
My little pony –
But you're all here and now I can see
Stormy weather; Lots to share
A musical bond; With love and care
Teaching laughter; It’s an easy feat,
And magic makes it all complete!
You have my little ponies
How’d I ever make so many true friends?
---
Personally, Trixie had always assumed that calling winter the ‘most wonderful time of the year’ was an attempt at self-delusion. Objectively it was a terrible time of year: food stores were gradually depleted, low temperatures forced ponies to spend time and money on heating (except for pegasi, of course, but their resistance to extremes of heat and cold could actually be grating to the other two tribes – “Ah! Bracing! Really gets the blood flowing!” was not the kind of thing one wanted to hear when it was ten below outside), snow would make travel between towns difficult and importing new food hard, and all in all there was not really all that much to recommend the season.
On the other hoof…
Trixie heard knocking on her door, and glanced up from where she was doing paperwork while snuggled under a winter cloak – her normal cape had a warming enchantment, of course, but nothing quite beat being wrapped up under thick wool. Standing up from her desk and trotting up to her door, she opened it to find herself looking down at a sextet of small faces, all dressed in winter-themed foal scout uniforms and with a wooden donation box held by one’s telekinetic aura.
“Here we come a-wassailing
“Among the leaves so green;
“Here we come a-wand'ring
“So fair to be seen!
“Love and joy come to you,
“And to you your wassail too;
“And please bless you and have you a Happy New Year
“And may you have a Happy New Year!”
That they were carolers wasn’t a surprise; their choice of song was, though. Trixie nevertheless smiled happily and sat down to listen to the carol, playing the part of the attentive audience rather than that of the performer for a change. Like most carols, it repeated its chorus often, and Trixie joined with the final refrain.
“Love and joy come to you,
“And to you your wassail too;
“And please bless you and have you a Happy New Year
“And may you have a Happy New Year!”
The foals all smiled widely and bowed low when they finished; by the time they rose, Trixie had retrieved her money purse and put a full ten silver bits into their donation box, the proceeds of which would go on to help needy ponies around Equestria. “Do any of you even know what a ‘wassail’ is?” She couldn’t help but ask.
Five of the foals shook their head, while the sixth – whom Trixie recognized as Sweetie Belle, whom she had taught a little magic to earlier in the year – giggled a little. “Warmed mulled cider,” she responded, then looked to her friends with a guilty grin. “We’ve sorta’ been singing a drinking song.”
“Sweetie!” One of the other foals, Rumble, exclaimed, as most of the remaining foals blushed in embarrassment. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because it was funny,” Sweetie, and Trixie, answered at the same time. They shared a quick hoof-bump at that. “Besides, it’s also a Hearth’s Warming carol,” Trixie continued. “And it’s not very alcoholic. A little wassail never hurt anypony. You should try some at the Hearth’s Warming Eve Fair tomorrow.”
“But we’re foals,” Rumble objected.
“I didn’t say you should get wasted,” Trixie noted, looking out at Ponyville. The town was buried under six inches of snow, which was getting deeper as a gentle snowfall blanketed the town. But trees were strung up with tinsel and twine, doors had wreathes nailed to them, and many of the lamp posts throughout town had their clear panes being replaced with frosted glass of red or green. The town hall, visible from Trixie’s home, had statues all around it in the common interpretations of what the six founders of Equestria looked like; while Twilight Sparkle had placed giant decorative ‘present’ boxes around the base of Golden Oak’s library, making it look like a giant Hearth’s Warming tree. Most notably of all, despite the chill, ponies could be seen everywhere trotting to and fro – visiting family and friends, performing shopping trips, setting up decorations.
Trixie looked back to the foals. “Anyway, that’s enough encouraging juvenile delinquency from me,” she said, and waved a hoof imperiously. “Go forth, ye foals, and make merry!”
The six foals did so, thanking Trixie as they did. “I’m picking the next carol,” Rumble noted as they moved to the next home. Sweetie stuck her tongue out at him as she giggled. Trixie laughed as well as she went back inside, resolving to finish her paperwork as fast as possible so that she could follow the advice she had just given to the foals herself.
Sure – the food may have been preserved, the roads may have been slick, and chill may have been enough to make a yak shiver. But the feeling of this time of the year was real enough, wasn’t it? It was just one more magician’s trick, really – the rabbit may not have actually magically appeared from the hat, but the audience’s reaction was real enough.
It was the Twelvetide, and there was magic – real magic – in the air. Hearth’s Warming, December 25th, was the second of the three holidays that occurred in winter – the Longest Night, on either the 21st or 22nd of December; and New Year’s Day on the 1st of January being the other two. All fell within twelve days of each other and so comprised a twelve-day long series of events and festivities, the Twelvetide, that helped ponies get through the Equestrian winter.
Unlike last year, this year’s Longest Night had gone off without a hitch two days before. Tomorrow was Hearth’s Warming Eve, and there would be pageants and celebrations galore, a public festival where everypony finished celebrating the years of the past by remembering the very founding of Equestria. Then would be Hearth’s Warming itself, the celebration of the moment, the now, the friends and family still here and all the joy and laughter that they brought to the table. The very next day would then be a lead-up to the New Year, where ponies would welcome in the next year to come and celebrate in the hope that their optimism would spread throughout the land and help make sure that the next year was a good one.
Ultimately, the Twelvetide was an excuse to have parties – parties with friends and family, parties with a purpose and an eye towards remembrance, but parties nonetheless. But who didn’t want that?
It didn’t take long for Trixie to finish the paperwork she had – December in general and the Twelvetide especially tended to be a fairly slow month for a Representative of the Night Court, particularly as her normal job included sending farming reports on to Canterlot but there just weren’t that many to send in the middle of winter. Thus she was soon shutting the Residency’s door behind her and heading out into the waning light of day to see what the town had in store this Twelvetide, her second in Ponyville and her first that hadn’t happened in the wake of a mad alicorn attack. She wasn’t long out the door before she saw a pony marching determinedly towards her, blue cap and winter cloak instantly identifying her even if her strabismus wouldn’t have done the job.
“Ditzy!” Trixie exclaimed happily, meeting her fellow Element bearer at the front gate to her Residency. “Mail call?”
Ditzy nodded with fervor as she dug through her mail bags – overloaded, as was typical for the season, Trixie supposed. “Sorry I’m catching you as you’re leaving,” Ditzy said, taking out a dozen letters, a small parcel, and a receipt that noted that there were more packages waiting for Trixie at the post office. “But I’ve got mail to deliver!”
Trixie looked at some of the letters; she noted that one of them didn’t have a return address. “Wasn’t there some kind of memo about – ”
“Mail has to be delivered,” Ditzy interrupted, putting a hoof to her chest, “come rain or sleet or dark of night or glare of day! Or bureaucratic ineptitude!” She lowered her hoof and giggled. “Also there was a mail-avalanche at the post office. Silver Script kind of got us all fired up after he was caught in it.”
Trixie grinned brightly at the thought of the silver pegasus trotting back and forth before his mail ponies like a general motivating his troops for a battle, though that was probably a bit too silly to have been how it actually went down. She bid Ditzy a goodbye, then focused on the one letter she’d received without a return address, opening up to see if it was important, given there was no way to know how long it had been sitting in the post office’s backlog…
Dear Trixie,
It is with an apolaustic hoof that I write you now. Though I had thought to render what I am about to inform you a Surprise, our shared Benefactor has suggested – with her usual eye towards paideutics – that it would be in poor taste to Impose myself upon your House at this time of year (a truth which I had quite forgotten, as one day has become much like another to me during my immurement within Cocytus). While I still feel a profound sense of Tribulation for my actions those many years ago, recent Events of which you are aware, though which I shall not commit to parchment as they involve Secrets that are not mine to risk telling, have led to a closer examination of my imposed exile, and the Punishment I heaped upon myself I now know has served none but my own Pride, that most dangerous of sins. Justice can no longer be found in self-flagellation (if you will permit me a florid metaphor), if indeed it could ever be found there at all.
Thus I shall now write plainly: It is my intention, with the many Blessings of the Princess, to leave my donjon forthwith, ending my Immurement. I do not doubt that there shall be many who will Fear my return, and that I find Fair & Just, for my frore intentions of many years gone would surely have been the greatest disaster of my Æra. My name surely occupies such bleak company as that of Corona, Discord, Tirek, &c, &c, &c. Nevertheless, it is time I sought to make amends with Equestria, and with myself.
There is much more that I wish to write, but I am now told by our Teacher that I would perhaps merely be engaging in persiflage beyond this point, and that should I commit more to the pen then I shall be left with Naught to say when I visit. I shall bring this letter to an end, then.
With great Humility & Happiness, your friend,
Snowy Night
P.S. – In my apolaustia I have forgotten to inform you of the date of my arrival! It shall be but a week hence (I have been assured of a same-day reception – such an amazing modern feat!). I do not intend to linger more than a day and a night; I have little doubt you can divine the reason why. Nevertheless I look forward to our meeting. – S.N.
P.P.S. – Our Teacher has informed me that you might have trouble understanding the letter above, and my words once we meet, as Time & Tide have changed the common vernacular and my own has not advanced at pace with them. But you were always a bright one, and – at the risk of besmirching our Teacher – I remember well how Luna Herself would on occasion slip back into outmoded means of Speaking & Writing. I shall, then, take her grammaticastical assertions with a pinch of salt. – S.N.
Trixie blinked a few times. The writing – well, she could just about make her way around it. However, her mind focused in particular on the name of the writer, and what she was saying she intended.
Snowy Night. Snowy Night was coming to Ponyville, a week from when she’d sent this letter. But when had she sent it?
Trixie telekinetically threw all her remaining parcels and letters into the Residency, then galloped back out. “Ditzy…!” she exclaimed. The mail mare had just finished dropping off the mail to the store that lay next to Trixie’s Residency. “Ditzy. When did the post office get this letter?”
Ditzy considered. “There’s no date on it?” she asked, taking the letter when Trixie offered it to her. “I don’t know…we’ve gotten so much recently. Normally I’m better, but…” She frowned, squinting to read the extremely cursive and small script. “I…Snowy Night? Who’s Snowy Night?” She blinked a few times as she looked at some of the other names. “And…and why it she writing about Tirek and Corona? And where’s this Cockatoo place?”
Trixie fidgeted as she took the letter back from Ditzy. “Kokytos,” Trixie explained. “Snowy Night’s spelling is a little…out of date. Kokytos is a river that runs through Tartaros.”
Ditzy had been about to start trotting on towards her next stop, but froze at that. “Trixie, why are you getting letters from Tartaros?”
Trixie fidgeted more at the question. “I doubt it’s from Tartaros,” she said. “From the sound of things Snowy’s been let out, so it was probably sent from Canterlot.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question.”
The unicorn of the pair didn’t have an answer for that as she shifted balance from one hoof to the next, a nervous habit that she’d never really been able to shake. She still glanced around, not knowing when Snowy intended to arrive. Maybe she’d already arrived. Maybe she’d come and gone and missed Trixie. Or maybe she was coming tomorrow…
“Okay,” Ditzy said. “I’m going to finish my rounds, get the girls, and then sit you down. Should we be grabbing the Elements?”
Trixie started at that. “No!” she exclaimed quickly, making cutting motions with her hooves. “No, no, no. Snowy doesn’t need that.”
“She’s from Tartaros, Trixie,” Ditzy looked at her friend sidelong. “Or if she isn’t, you should really be telling me what’s going on.”
Trixie bit her lip. There really wasn’t a good way to phrase what she had to say. “Okay,” she said. “You ever hear a story about how once upon a time, there was a little earth pony foal who wouldn’t listen to his parents and kept going into the Everfree? And he woke up a Windigo named Rimewind? And the foal was frozen and the Windigo attacked the farms on the edge of the Everfree until the spirit of Hearth’s Warming slew it?”
Ditzy blinked. “Sort of,” she said. “It’s kind of a local tale to keep foals out of the Everfree. But I’m from Fillydelphia, remember. But I’ve heard it around town – ” realization then struck Ditzy as to why Trixie had brought up the story “ – oh Moon and Stars, Snowy Night and Rimewind are the same thing, aren’t they?”
“Little bit,” Trixie answered with a wince.
“There’s a Windigo coming to town?!”
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"Here we come a-wassailing" is an old English carol. Being a carol, and being old, there are many variants on the lyrics; the first known published lyrics are fairly blunt about it being wassail and beer, but presumably the Equestrian version sung by Sweetie Belle and others above is a little bit more obtuse about it.
Hah! Love it, especially Ditzy's reaction in the end. (I'm also predicting Cheerilee, who was personally frozen by Ice Heart's dad, will have a similar reaction to learning they're in for more windigo shenanigans.)
Ah, it’s been ages since I read a Lunaverse story, but there’s a reason I always ease myself back into the ’verse with a story written by its founder: I can be assured that it’s good. You’ve yet to break that streak and from what I read here there’s no risk of it happening any time soon.
Oh, great. A holly jolly headache.
6715235
Wow - thanks for the vote of confidence! I'll try not to disappoint.
6715148
The first line of the next chapter probably won't surprise anyone.
"Why didn't you bring any of this up when we were fighting a Windigo not one month ago?!"
6715450
This looks like it will be most apolaustic.
What a great start to a new story, and what a wonderful way to lighten the dower mood I woke up in. Think I'll just preemptively add this to my favorites list.
Wish I had something more specific to say to express my jubilant appreciation, but if I tried to comment on everything I loved about this chapter, we'd be here all day.
Very festive, I loved the mail room rebellion with the mice!
Let me get this straight a Windigo a creature that gets harmed when in the presence of lots of love, is going to visit a pony settlement at holiday when love and tolerance are at its highest? Yeah that's going to leave a mark.
Very nice to see something new from you. Was getting worried you had stopped a bit. Looks like this should be interesting.
....why does Trixie know a Windigo? And I forget, has the Lunaverse main 6 faced Discord? I don't think so but I'm not sure...
If I'm wrong about that, could someone kindly link me the story where that takes place?
...I'm sorry, but I can't think of wassail without thinking of this.
A great start so far. Looking forward to more!
6715623
The idea of Ditzy having a "pet" mouse that's actually just a mouse that lives in the post office is one that's been floating around the Lunaverse for awhile; just making use of it here.
6715851
Thanks! I worked hard to try and get the feel of a Brother's Grimm or the like tale. In hindsight I should perhaps read a Brother's Grim tale before I try to ape the style. My copy of The Arabian Nights is probably close enough, though.
6716725
How often I write is directly related to my work schedule; at my new job, while the specific days I work vary, I am always due in at 6:00 PM and always leave somewhere between 11:30 PM and 1:30 AM, which makes organizing my day much, much easier.
When I worked at Papa Gino's, the time I was due in could be literally anywhere from 10:00 AM to 5:00 PM and the time I left could be anywhere from 2:00 PM to 12:00 AM. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh, I am not missing that.
6717039
The L6 haven't faced Discord...yet. But there are hints that he's coming.
6717270
Ah, MST3K, how I love thee...
6717424
I think you pretty much nailed it. Of course, it had the most important part of any true Brother Grimm fairytale and that's the horrible fate that befalls the central character to act as a warning to others!
6717270
Ahhh, one of my favorite MST3K skits!
"Severe financial penalties come onto you!"
I'm with Trixie when it comes to winter. Overall, depressing as all-hell for me. Anyway, cute beginning. A 'holy crap!' at the end, there.