15. Hearth's Warming Song
The Substitute Librarian
Hearth’s Warming Song
Patience was the word.
Emerald was fairly certain his father was watching from the train car window, so rather than just trot on out into the station platform and be spotted, he remained quiet and unobtrusive behind the train car’s back step until the engine gave off a whistle and began to chuff forward.
Then once the train was out of the station, it was one step to freedom and a few minutes of rapid walking to get into the center of the snow-covered town of Ponyville. Admittedly, Canterlot put on a larger display with more sparkle and unicorn-magic in the decorations, but Ponyville seemed more honest about it. All three tribes of ponies here mingled without regard for the subtle flavors of class separation that was de rigueur for a city containing the Royal Sisters. The idea that the Cutie Mark Crusaders could even exist in Canterlot was laughable, because there, young unicorns grouped with unicorns, pegasi grouped with pegasi, and earth ponies certainly did not want to be seen with the youngest son of a unicorn house. Well, unless they could get something out of it.
Which to be honest was another reason he was glad to be ‘Emerald’ in Ponyville again, because walking around Canterlot kept giving him the uneasy feeling that his rear was being watched by curious royal eyes. After all, on his last trip here when he had met Princess Luna, she had actually asked if he was single, and had mentioned Twilight Sparkle at the same time.
The memory no longer made him hyperventilate and feel woozy, or make him try to dismiss it as a cold medicine induced delusion. He had come to terms with the concept as something the Night Princess might have found humorous instead of serious, particularly since he had not seen any further Royal interruption into his waking or sleeping life. She had better things to do than play matchmaker. Obviously, a beginning unicorn magic tutor was far too insignificant for Princess Luna’s world of huge powers and important ponies.
Although his brother Graphite had been remarkably smug and closed-mouth about his newest marefriend.
And speaking of strange mysterious mares of the unconventional type…
It took a few minutes to retrace his steps back to the Ponyville train station, where his parents and their train were nothing but faded memories long-gone down the tracks to their destinations, but that was not the reason he had returned. A casual glance at the sole remaining inhabitant of the train platform might confuse her with an ornate haystack, size large, but adorned with a number of golden accoutrements and precious gemstones. It was not a normal thing to see a yak outside of Yakyakistan, but then again she was standing in Ponyville, so it was a normal kind of abnormal.
From the silver shade of her coat, this yak was much older than usual, and if Emerald were to be perfectly honest with himself for a change, he had become slightly worried about the elderly mare. Or whatever a female yak was called. A cow? To make things worse, his extremely sketchy memories of Yak culture from his international affairs class did not match against her ornate golden horn-inlays or the particular crystalline dangly bits holding her heavy coat away from her eyes, so she was not in the traditional merchant caste or even a diplomat. Her meticulous grooming did not fit with a long overland journey from the mountains of her homeland, and there had been no article in the Ponyville newspaper about a rich elderly yak moving into town. There was still some half-melted ice frosted on her sides from a vigorous trot through snowdrifts, which meant the elderly-looking yak most likely had proceeded to Ponyville down the mountain from Canterlot in what was a casual stroll compared to her arctic home. Although that still left a serious problem unresolved.
Even as a young colt, Emerald had to know what was in a box. The week leading to Hearth’s Warming Eve was pure torture. Even if the elderly mare was perfectly fine, healthy, not a mental patient, she was still all alone on the train platform, and that was unfair. There were few things in the world that Emerald could positively affect, and quietly sitting down next to an elderly yak to provide company was a good thing. And if he happened to find out why she was here, that was better. After all, the race of yaks were not so furry that the elderly yak could be hiding an unmarried younger yak beneath her coat, so it was fairly safe.
For a very long time, they sat together on the train station loading platform without a word. It was a peaceful kind of quiet with no more noise than an occasional metallic tinkling as an errant breeze knocked around two or three of the yak’s hair trinkets. Despite his expectations, it was also relaxing, although there was the constant refrain of his student hindmind considering just what books were not being read or lecture notes not being studied. As a matter of fact, it was so relaxing and natural that it was beginning to make him worried, so he asked in his best polite voice, “Excuse me, ma’am. My name is Emerald. Are you lost?”
Ever so slowly, the elderly yak’s head turned from side to side. “Everything is where it belong,” she said in a voice that even sounded old and frail, despite her size. “Lillemor is here. You are here.”
“Ah.” Emerald nodded at the not-answer. “And where are you going?”
The old yak did not even turn to look at him. “Yak journey where yak family is. Snilldar Fest a time of great family togetherness. Also gifts.”
“Oh, gifts.” Emerald bonked himself lightly on the forehead. “My brother is getting married, and I need to get him a gift. But I can do that later. Do you mind if I sit here with you until your train arrives?”
Ever so slowly, the heavy head nodded. “Time is the greatest gift of all. It cannot be smashed.”
“But it can be wasted,” said Emerald, who rose to the conversational bait despite his initial wariness.
“Time is spent as we wish,” countered the old yak. “Time spent with family is never wasted. Neither is time spent passing wisdom to young yaks.”
The point could be argued, since Emerald had wasted quite some time arguing with his father, but in her defense, that time had made him stronger and better able to argue with other more argumentative ponies. It also gave him the wisdom to realize that arguing with an elderly yak on the Ponyville train platform would not be productive. He was here for support, and that was it.
“You are a teacher,” continued the elderly yak, “and yet you ignore the lessons of your elders.”
Support was vastly overrated.
“Look, I sat down here—” One lesson about being a teacher was control. A teacher must never be seen to lose control, to shout at a student or anypony else. Just because his family’s attempt to control him in turn was a constant irritation, did not mean he had to take it out on Grandma Lillemor here, so he bit down on his terse response, took a shallow breath of Ponyville’s chill morning air, and tried again with far less pepper on it.
“I’m only here to provide company, not get criticised about my family,” he responded just as calmly as Princess Celestia would have⁽*⁾. “I could be anywhere else, but I decided a yak elder sitting by herself needed somebody to watch over her, to make sure she isn’t abandoned or lost. So I’m going to stay here until your train shows up, if that’s acceptable to you.”
(*) Not likely.
—
“A protector.” Lillemor appeared to be unmoved by his outburst. “As was your father, and your father before him. And a nurturer of the young, as your mother, and your grandmothers before her.”
“N—” Emerald bit off his sharp response and considered his brief encounter with the Royal Guard drill sergeant a month before. Father and his grandfather had brief stints in the Guard, while his mother had her Mark in flower arranging, a rather earth pony talent that was fairly rare in unicorns, and both of his grandmothers had been Marked in fairly similar fashion. The probability that an ordinary yak sitting in Ponyville knew that was extraordinarily small. Emerald studied the ornate gold-leaf decorative patterns on the elderly yak’s horns for a few moments, swallowed what felt to be a monumental lump of cooked corvid, and tried again.
“Beg pardon, Esteemed Elder,” he started, and decided that was as far as he really needed to go, except to add, “I would be honored to answer any questions you might have.”
“There are no questions.” Just when Emerald was about to relax, she added, “There are only answers. Yak find them in our own way, and discover the way they fit into our journey. For now, everything is where it should be. Lillemor am here. Emerald are here.”
“And… um… later?” asked Emerald, not looking forward to the answer, but unable to resist asking.
Ever so slowly, the yak responded, “Everything is a journey. The snow falls, the wind blows. I shall journey to my family yurt, and you shall continue on your journey, finding the answers you seek.”
“Ah,” said Emerald, caught in the dictionary between relieved and retensioned. “You’re just waiting for a train.”
“Among other things.”
There was a long silence, unfilled by the arrival of any more trains or yaks. Despite Elder Lillemor’s claim that there were no questions, Emerald’s head had a number of empty spaces in search of answers, although he preferred not to find unwelcome answers, so he kept his mouth shut. Well, at least for a little while. To his surprise, the elderly yak spoke first.
“With age, comes the burden of far too many answers for one yak to bear. As you have shown kindness and respect, I will give several of my better answers to you. Pass them along or keep them. It is your decision on your life journey.”
There was something about sitting next to the old yak that brought a weight to every word, both hers and his. It was like descending into a well to seek knowledge, only to find another patient well-sitter relaxing in the water while waiting for the frogs to sing. The last thing he had expected when leaving his family on the train was this, and yet it was just exactly where he needed to be at the moment, for the moment.
“It would be unfair to burden you with my answers in return, Esteemed Elder.” Emerald waved one hoof at the empty steel rails of the train station. “They never seem to fit with my… journey, as you said.”
“A teacher should recognize the difficulty in placing an answer where it does not belong. Would you travel to the Ibex and teach their young how to fly, or to the deepest oceans and teach the seaponies how to gallop?”
“I’m teaching young unicorns their first magic,” said Emerald. “I’m good at it, and I’m needed.”
The old yak nodded. “All ponies are alike. You believe you best at something that no other pony do as well. Has always been, will always be. Your fathers was like, so will your child.”
“I’m not saying I’m the best at teaching young unicorns,” said Emerald carefully despite an overwhelming instinct to defend his own immature skills to the highly mature yak, just the same as he wanted to agree with her in regards to his own overwhelming father. Emerald did keep his mouth shut afterward, though. There were all kinds of shovels in the old yak’s words, and he had already dug himself a deep enough hole. He did find himself forced to add, “And I don’t have a child.”
“Yet,” said the yak. “You want to protect everypony and help them grow. Pony like that not alone for long. Love will find you unprepared.” She gave a short snort. “Both of you.”
“That’s why they call it falling in love, I suppose,” mused Emerald. “At least I will be able to choose my own mare, instead of having one forced on me.”
The yak slowly glanced in his direction, then silently turned her head to look down the tracks at the distant train approaching. It seemed as if Lillemor were about to say something, but she returned to her impassive pose, not even reacting when the train chuffed into the station. If it was intended as a power play to force Emerald into responding first, it was quite effective, since he had begun to wonder what exactly would happen if she just remained sitting there in silence for days.
She can. I can’t.
“It appears our journeys must continue on to separate destinations, Elder Lillemor.” Emerald bowed as well as he could after having sat on the cold wood of the train loading platform for so long. “This is your train according to the station board, so will you need help with your luggage?”
“In any journey, Yak can only take self.” With a short motion and a few subdued popping noises, the old yak rose to her hooves and faced Emerald. “You give yak great gift of time and company. Now yak give you gift in return.”
“I don’t need anything,” responded Emerald immediately, thinking about how many young unmarried yak brides she might have on the incoming train.
“You accept gift of protection from family.” Lillimor touched his heavy coat with one hoof. “Your brother is a powerful protector, who will guard you all of your days. Now you accept gift of advice from old yak who has seen far too many winters.”
“I…” Giving a quick glance at the train, which was probably going to leave again if he kept arguing, Emerald nodded. “I will accept your gift, Elder.”
The old yak smiled a very small and wrinkled smile. “You fear being unloved, although you are loved beyond measure. This makes you seek approval from all who you meet, even those who you disdain. Your greatest fear will turn into your greatest triumph if you embrace that fear and accept what it brings. Goodby, young one.”
With measured tread, the old yak strolled into the train car just in time for the door to close behind her, leaving Emerald to watch as it chuffed down the tracks on the way to the frost-clogged north lands.
“I will never get used to Ponyville,” said Emerald to himself, turning his path away from the train station. “Now, I need an alibi… I mean a gift for Regal before I head back to Canterlot. I don’t think he would appreciate a gift of time and advice like yak. Besides, it would be terribly difficult to wrap for his official engagement announcement party. No, I need something special and unique for the future bride and groom. And useful for them, not just me,” he added with an envious glance at Missus Wonderment’s shop, and all of the sparkling impractical widgets inside.
Something like a rainfall simulator to play soothing music at night or an animated star display for the ceiling might appeal to the bride, or might not. Clothes would be a guaranteed failure, because he had never bought a mare anything they would wear anyway, but a carousel-shaped building attracted his attention during his stroll, and the window display had the words he really appreciated.
“Holiday Clearance,” he mused. “Pocket squares. Regal wears suits. Suits have pocket squares. And matching ribbons. Mares wear ribbons. Hm…”
The price on the display seemed far too low compared to his Canterlot shopping experiences, or at least until Emerald realized the number was for each item instead of the whole collection, but to be honest, he had no idea what color to get, and buying just a few would probably still not match any particular coat and outfit tint. But buying them all…
It took some wriggling underneath Regal’s large coat to get his travel saddlebag out, which looked like it contained a once-popular novel, but a little work with cutting and glue had turned it into a convenient place to store his checkbook and a few useful tools. A close inspection showed his Canterlot bank account balance was still fairly substantial due to his frugal habits, but family was worth the occasional splurge, particularly since Regal had covered for him again. Still, it did not hurt to check the bottom line.
“Tens column, not hundreds,” he mused through the quill in his teeth, clicking the beads on his tiny travel abacus to calculate the total. “And done. Not bad. Add a little for taxes and delivery, something for a tip. Round up. Less than I’d spend in Canterlot, that’s for certain.”
Since the shop was closed, it took a few minutes for him to write out a polite note requesting the whole display of pocket squares and ribbons, then added instructions for delivery, and finally a careful scribing of the bank draft. The chill of the winter air made the ink slow to dry, so he took a few more minutes to look at what little male clothing inventory he could see through the window and give an idle contemplation to what it would look like on… well, not him. Despite his recent exercise program, he was still comfortably stout, which provided some winter insulation underneath his abundantly fuzzy green hide. Poor skinny Twilight Sparkle would be freezing in this weather, unless she could share a winter coat from one of the other Bearers—
Without thinking, Emerald’s eyes tracked down to the bank draft, then up to the store’s familiar name in the window, then back at the now-dry draft.
What are the odds that there are two Rarity’s in this town? And they both run clothing stores?
It was completely unwarranted nerves. Really. Twilight Sparkle’s friends did not know him from any other random pony on the street, and they certainly would not wish to set their neurotic, single, skinny, book-obsessed, antisocial friend up with a neurotic, single, chubby, book-obsessed—
In any event, the name on the bank draft was his real family name, and the delivery was to Regal’s to-be-in-laws in Manehattan, which left no strings for Twilight’s powerful friends to tie Emerald-the-temp-librarian to the purchaser. Still, it took substantial willpower to get the note and bank draft into an envelope, then pushed through the mailslot in the door.
“There,” he said to himself. “All done. Now, find the next train to Canterlot, where I can spend the whole holiday… all alone, in the house.”
He could not help but think about the elderly yak and her advice about life’s journey, which made his eyes wander across the frosty Ponyville landscape until they came to a rest on the library oak. It was winter, so the tree would be dormant and not likely to try⁽¹⁾ any of its tricks. There were still a few days before Hearth’s Warming, so the mayor might be willing to hire a temporary librarian to keep the building active, provided he did not complain about the meager payment. And there was a book on the third from bottom shelf near the librarian desk that he had considered reading that last auspicious time he had been here.
(1) Provided what he had seen so far was not merely a figment of his imagination or approaching insanity, neither of which Emerald had totally discounted.
—
After all, college was out for Winter break, and the frat house closed, so he would not be able to get in the door there. That left House Chrysanthemum, which would be open to him since several of the servants had no other home, but it would be a terrible imposition on their lives if he were to return there. This was their rare time-off, and to have Master Emerald moping around the house for a few days would take all the sparkle out of their Hearth’s Warming decor.
Miserable in Canterlot. Useful in Ponyville. It was worth at least asking the mayor about volunteering his excess time to keep the closed library open for any remaining patrons. After all, time was the greatest gift, and he owed the town a few gifts of his time for the trouble he had caused before.
* * *
“Oh, here we go a carol-ing, a carol-ing, a carol-ing. Oh here we go a carol-ing in the words that I don’t know.” Emerald bumped the library door open with the spellkey in his teeth and called out into the quiet building, “Oh, honey! I’m home!”
If anypony had answered, Emerald would have been right out the door and halfway up the snowpacked mountain to Canterlot in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, nothing but echoes responded, and he finished stomping the snow out of his hooves on the bristly mat before moving into the library and bumping the door closed with his tail. He had to move slowly, because he had taken a shopping trip around town after leaving Town Hall, partially to get something other than apples to eat for a few days, and the other part to recover from Mayor Mare almost kissing him when he walked into her office.
It was probably the mistletoe sprig over her doorway. Hopefully. Perhaps there had been some office eggnog involved, because she had been blushing rather heavily and slurring her words.
He took it slow and easy on the way into the kitchenette with his heavy culinary burden. For the first time in months, Emerald did not have an assignment due, homework notes to outline, extra credit to wheedle out of a professor, or even dishes to wash in the frat house. Add in that he was in the middle of an enormous number of books, with no picky list of rules from the permanent librarian, and his mood could not be brighter. In a very yak-like manner that went well with his naturally shaggy coat, he could not only give his time to the town, he could also give the gift of time to himself for a change.
‘Slack’ was a rare enough occasion that Emerald really did not have a structured plan on what to do. Wandering through the Ponyville market had given him plenty of culinary ideas, although he had not been able to find any of the ‘special’ ingredients or products he had been exposed to during Father’s trips to various griffon customers. A few bites of braunschweiger or some chicken weisswurst would be appropriate for the season, although rumors about his diet would swirl around town at record speed, so even if he had found some, it would probably have been left unpurchased. It was probably for the best, because he had always gotten a stomach ache after sneaking out to eat griffon cuisine during that trip. Of course, if he had been able to restrain himself…
Nog, however, was something everypony made, and his stomach had never objected to any formulation or quantity. Emerald never had the time to mix up Hearth’s Warming Nog on his own before, although he had always wanted to, and even had a sketchy recipe of sorts to vaguely follow. Anything more specific would just be a waste of time, since everypony made their own little tweaks to the ingredient list, and mixed it in a different fashion. And with a few days of relative peace and quiet in the library, he had enough time to play with the formula, and maybe leave a pitcher of it in the icebox for Twilight Sparkle when she returned. It certainly would be more appreciated than a fruit salad, and less likely to have inadvertent romantic implications.
One thing for certain, any recipe he tried for nog was going to be booze-free. The last thing he wanted was foals staggering around the library shelves. Or any unexplainable kissing. Or the unanticipated return of a certain librarian, who would then certainly sample from the remaining eggnog supply and blame him for any resulting inebriation.
It took some time to unload his supplies in the kitchen and restock the icebox, taking in the relative size of his workplace and the optimistic approach he had made to buying foodstuffs, before sticking some of the nonperishable items into the pantry and looking for a punch bowl.
“Every library has a punch bowl,” he mused, checking the pantry shelves before reaching back behind everything and groping around. “It just isn’t used every day, so it’s going to drift back… Ah, HA! There we go. One… dusty bowl. Didn’t think there was any dust inside the whole tree.”
“Am I early?” called out a cheerful voice from the front door.
“Come on in,” he called back. “I just opened up the library.”
“Tables still in the basement?”
“I suppose.” Emerald dragged the punch bowl over to the sink and tried to figure out where Twilight Sparkle hid the dish soap while the front door of the library banged open again.
“Brought the music stands,” called out a male voice that sounded just slightly nasal. “The automatic page-turner isn’t working quite right, so keep your noses away from it or you’ll lose all your hairs.”
“Music?” asked Emerald to himself. Since he was not going to get an answer that way, he poked his nose back out into the library where several ponies were bustling about, dressed in thick coats. It did not seem to be some sort of impromptu musical number, but the stacks of worn sheet music combined with the current holiday season made it quite obvious that the library was becoming a hub for an activity that Emerald had avoided for most of his life. “Oh, caroling.”
“Caroling!” called out another familiar pony as she bounded into the library, trailed by more music sheets wrapped in a pinkish magic. “Twilight! Thanks for letting us use the library this year!”
That was his cue. “Sparkler, Twilight Sparkle isn’t in the library today,” said Emerald, coming out of the kitchenette to the scent of fresh cookies. There was a whole chapter in Twilight Sparkle’s rules about food in the library area, but mere words could not compete against the scent of toasted oatmeal and alfalfa wafting through the air. “What’s going on?”
“Caroling,” announced Sparkler as she danced down the basement stairs. “I love this time of year.”
“No, I mean I know you’re caroling,” said Emerald to the empty stairwell. “Why are you caroling in the library?”
“We’ve never sang at the library before,” said a rather nondescript stallion who was setting up the music stands. His brown-on-brown coloration made it easy for the eye to slip over him, although Emerald had to admire his bow tie and wonder how he got his mane to stick up like that, or if it was natural. He certainly was not bothered by the cold weather, because he wore nothing else but a colorful scarf and a set of music-stuffed saddlebags embossed with his hourglass-shaped Mark.
“Oh, we’re just going to practice a little before heading out,” came Sparkler’s voice from downstairs. “The snacks are for when we get back. Are you coming with us, Mister Emerald?”
The answer was obvious. Outside contained snow, icy breezes, deep potholes filled with half-frozen ice that hid themselves until stepped in, and quite possibly Flitter with one last cloud of slush that she had been keeping back for her favorite green target.
“Woot!” called out Dinky, who skidded through the front door and across the wooden floor of the library until she came to a halt in the growing collection of winter snack food with a solid thud. Almost immediately, a faint golden glow lifted a sack of haychips off her face, and the little unicorn’s face lit up like Sun when she met his eyes. “Alright! It’s Mister Emerald! Are you going caroling with us?”
- - Ω - -
It was a good thing that the carolers had sheet music, because Emerald could only remember about half of the songs they were singing. While his voice was barely harmonious, at least he had volume, which was the most important part of caroling, and when it got too dark to read the music, they would be headed back to the warm library. Their little group picked up more Hearth’s Warming carolers as they traveled, avoiding certain houses because they were dark and others because of general singer consensus.
Which was a shame, because Emerald really wanted to meet Thistle Burr sometime to see if he was as disagreeable as everypony said.
“So do you do this every year?” asked Emerald to his nearest caroler, a cheerful green unicorn named Lyra who was practically glowing under the streetlamps as they trotted back to the library.
“Yeppers!” Lyra swapped ends and walked backward while talking, which seemed to be natural for her. “We were going to invite Twilight to go caroling with us this evening, but she had that opportunity in Canterlot and we were hoping the mayor would let us use the town hall for our snack stop if Bonnie slipped her an extra box of candied cherries.”
That made sense, but he had to ask, “Did they have bourbon in them?”
“Maybe.” Lyra turned and walked sideways for a while. “So why are you spending your holiday with us instead of—” she jerked her horn slightly in the direction of Canterlot, which was lit up in the darkness of the mountain above “—with your family?”
“My family is out of town on a trip.” He hesitated in his rapid pace to squint at Lyra’s face, then took a quick look at her lyre Mark framed quite well on her shapely green rear end. “Oh,” he added as a few neglected neurons began beating out a rapid alarm spell in the back of his noggin.
“Wondered how long you were going to take to recognize me.” Lyra swept a casual hoof at his hat, although far enough away that Emerald did not even have to dodge. “You’re still wearing the same ratty hat you did in that Canterlot party. Good thing Rarity’s not here or she’d toss it into a fire.”
“It’s been a few years since we met,” protested Emerald, racking his brains to remember just exactly what party in Canterlot she was talking about, and in particular if they had ever dated. After all, some of his dates had been more than a little irritated when he slipped away from parties to go help with the foalsitters, and mares held grudges forever.
“My therapy group was playing at a party your parents attended,” said Lyra as if she was reading his mind from his expression. “You mentioned something about having your father marry you to a color-coordinated cutie in the quartet rather than the terrible mare they were trying to tie you to. Fairly good alliteration and amazing voice projection, by the way. I don’t think anypony in the building missed it.”
“Oh,” said Emerald as the memory popped up. It was both good and terrifying, making him take a quick look around the shadowed snow-packed streets in search of an earth pony mare with a most unlikely manestyle. “Oh,” he added more weakly. “She’s not—”
“Bon Bon has been selling candy all day,” said Lyra smugly. “She’s sleeping⁽³⁾ while I’ve been out with the carolers tonight, so you’re safe.”
(3) Bon Bon had not been invited to go caroling because her allergies tended to flare up around holidays, and her respective vocal range suffered as a result. So to prevent anypony else from suffering…
—
“I was more worried about my father than myself,” said Emerald, rubbing one side of his brother’s thick winter coat. “That look she gave us after I made my ill-timed protest hurt! You don’t think she’s still angry, do you? Wait a minute. Your therapy group are musicians?”
When no more words were forthcoming and a certain displayed reluctance to continue further made itself obvious, Emerald took an educated guess based on her lyre Mark and continued quieter, “Falling into your Mark is no laughing matter. My parents have been constantly worried that I’ve gotten so obsessed with teaching unicorn magic that they think I’d be better off chained to… I mean managing a factory with a placid mare beside me, churning out grandfoals like the House manufactures magical widgets.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m married,” said Lyra firmly.
“I’m sorrier,” said Emerald in an immediate comeback with one waggled eyebrow. “Mother’s most recent plan is to marry me off to a Manehattan family. My big brother, too. It would be a shame if I were claimed before— Yikes!”
Unicorn magic was tricky enough, but a far trickier Lyra had managed to scoop up a snowball while he was talking and use her magic to accurately dump it down the back of his neck. It broke the tension perfectly, and he was inordinately glad to see the giggling unicorn result, which made up for his present physical discomfort and then some.
“I’ve got to get you to show my students how to do that,” said Emerald while dancing around in a vain attempt to get the melting snow out of his mane before it got trapped under his coat’s unused hood.
“Maybe Dinky. If you want to show the rest of those troublemakers tricks, talk to Twilight,” said Lyra. “Just keep Firelock out of Bonnie’s shop. She was running around all last week with a flame on the end of her horn, like a happy candle.”
“Really?” Emerald quit digging for ice crystals. “How long? I mean she’s really showing promise if she can maintain a first-order corona spell for more than a few minutes and why are you looking at me that way?”
Lyra giggled while the rest of the chattering carolers were filing back into the library for post-singing snacking. “Because some of the mares at that party dated you in college, and they talked. They said you were so fascinated with teaching basic magic that you would happily light the fuse without seeing the fireworks factory at the other end.”
“Oh, really? Um…” Emerald lowered his voice. “You’re not going to spread that around town, are you? Particularly about my family?”
“No way.” Lyra giggled again. “If you want to hide out from your parents' attempts to put you in the chains of matrimony again, Bonny and I will keep your secret on two conditions. When they finally do shackle you to some poor mare, we want an invite to the wedding.”
“That’s… um… only fair.” Emerald eyed the library, which loomed as a massive leafless shadow in the growing frigid darkness. “What’s your other condition?”
“I want to be around when you meet Twilight, so I can watch the fireworks.” Lyra’s horn glowed and the library door opened. “Now, come on. Let’s eat.”
* * *
In hindsight, going caroling with the mixed group of happy Ponyville natives was the far superior choice for his evening’s entertainment. He would have wound up cleaning the leftover snack crumbs in the library anyway, and this way he got to spend time out in the frosty air with a happy group of singing ponies. As a bonus, by agreeing to Lyra’s conditions there was a reduced probability of picking up an unwanted Bearer spouse.
So once the end-of-night socializing was over, it took a few minutes of saying goodbye to the well-fed carolers, a couple of insincere failed attempts at turning down leftover goodies for the library icebox, one last running around the shelves to find a misplaced scarf, and the library was empty again. Well, except for one tired temporary librarian.
He could not get Lyra and her well-natured ribbing out of his head while sweeping up the crumbs which had scattered to various dark corners of the library floor. Technically, he could have just collapsed on the couch and ignored everything until the morning, but his mind was still buzzing and happy from the night’s activities, which naturally made him concerned about what was going to go wrong next.
The tentative knock at the library door did not help.
“Oh, it’s you, Scootaloo.” Emerald moved to one side so the young pegasus could come inside. “Your parents are still out at a party tonight, I presume?”
“Just for a while.” Scootaloo picked up a leftover plate of mixed cookies from the table and carried them back to the kitchen, a helpful gesture that it was Emerald’s responsibility to encourage as an example to the youth of Equestria.
“See if there’s any space to put those in Twilight’s cookie jar,” he called out. “I put everything cold in the icebox already. And I wouldn’t mind if you did dishes while waiting.”
There was no response, so Emerald imagined the helpful young pegasus putting away things while he bent his efforts more into the crumb-seeking and sweeping kind. Upon further examination, the library floor was probably worth mopping too, since there were a few drips and dribbles from his attempts at nog. After wrestling the folding tables back downstairs, considering just how much less space there was from all the new boxes of books stored there, and wedgeing them in anyway, Emerald returned to the main floor with mopping intentions.
The task was oddly normal and appealing, taking very little thought to imagine what it would be like to be a librarian husband in the small town, although he would probably wind up wearing the apron. While mopping, he could even imagine Twilight Sparkle sitting comfortably at the big librarian desk, deep into researching some obscure magical issue with a dozen books scattered around her while one of their children washed dishes in the kitchenette.
The mental image was… highly improbable because Twilight Sparkle was strung tighter than a violin, at least according to the townsponies. Besides, Emerald had no problem doing housework on occasion, but if he had the monumental error of judgement necessary to marry the Element of Magic, there would need to be at least one household servant who did not breathe fire and eat gems so he could sit back and read also.
After a short break from mopping in order to toss one last small log onto the fire for the evening, he closed the metal mesh spark arrestor back around the fireplace mantle and returned to…
Wait a minute. Fireplace?
There had not been a fireplace in the old oak tree the last time Emerald had visited, but there was one there now. It was fairly small and tidy, fitted into the oak tree with exquisite care like it had been designed specifically for the space, and with the itching tingle of fire suppressive enchantments on small devices concealed all around the edges. The warm breeze coming from the top section bespoke an equally expensive pegasus wonder to circulate the warmed and dry air through the library while keeping the small chimney soot and spark free. It was a reasonable precaution for the oak tree if nothing else, and close inspection showed it was also extremely new, perhaps a Hearth’s Warming gift from the other Element Bearers before they all went up to Canterlot for their performance.
“And I’m just getting my brother a few pocket squares for a gift,” muttered Emerald before picking up the mop again. “I should be with the family today, like the yak said. Of course, I’d be dodging matrimonial attempts and having to bite my tongue instead of telling his in-laws what huge twits they are, so maybe this is for the best.”
“Is somepony else out there?” called out Scootaloo from the kitchenette.
“No, your parents aren’t here yet.” Emerald shut up, put his mop into the bucket, and placed them off to one side for later. The main floor looked clean enough for now, although tomorrow he would want to tidy up before opening up for the patrons. The odds were strongly against Twilight Sparkle returning to Ponyville before Hearth’s Warming Eve unless her parents were as overbearing…
“Hey, Mister Emerald. Can I ask you a favor for tomorrow?”
“Are you washing dishes?” he called back. The resulting noise of a scooting chair toward the sink was an effective negative answer, and Emerald returned to looking for Twerp’s Peerage on the shelves. The fabled Bearers certainly would cluster together in this time of friendship and family, but which family they would visit was the question.
A quick peek at each Bearer library card allowed him to check names against families in Twerp’s, in the section in small print near the back under what Emerald thought of as Distinguished Ponies Who Are Not Really Nobility But They Get A Reference Anyway.
Fluttershy - Cloudsdale, of course. Pinkie Pie - Rock City… which was where Trixie had gone for her winter job, so at least his somewhat-friend would be well-fed and happy for the winter. Rainbow Dahs had the misfortune of a typo, but still had family in Cloudsdale so it seemed, as well as a scribbled correction in the book. Rarity - Ponyville, which only made sense with her business and Sweetie Belle being in town on his last visit. Some ponies just never escaped from their parents.
Twilight Sparkle was a different matter, so he had to flip back into the real nobility section to find her family House, and was more than a little surprised to see Spike Twinkle listed right beside Twilight as a sibling. It spoke to the significance of their House, which was a long-term Canterlot fixture. It ranked slightly higher than House Chrysanthemum on the social scale and perfectly eligible to have an odd hornless husband also grafted into their family tree, if either of their families decided to put in the horticultural effort.
Wonder why nopony ever put a family tree ring on her during school?
And last but not least as he flipped back to the distinguished pony section was… nothing. At first, he thought Applejack had just been missed when the book had been published. After all, several of the newspaper articles on the Bearers had skipped over making any reference to the apple farmer, and their photo sections were rather erratic. ‘Posed’ did not seem to be in the Bearer’s vocabulary, leading to photos that were either blurred with motion or fractions of rapidly departing tails.
Out of idle curiosity, he flipped to the nobility section again and found nothing around the ‘M’ section where ‘Malus’ would be, but placing the book on its spine and squinting carefully showed—a missing page. Excised from the book by a very sharp and precise knife, a page in the ‘R’ section was simply not there. It could have been a coincidence, but after just a few trips into Ponyville, Emerald was becoming a coincidence agnostic.
It’s only a matter of time before Twilight Sparkle sees this. She’ll blame me. Again.
After putting everything away, Emerald settled down at the heavy librarian’s desk and got out some stationary from the locked internal drawer, which was the only paper still available, then picked a used quill out of his vest pocket. A bank draft in a quick letter to his favorite bookstore—the one with the odd bespectacled stallion who always wore a cloak—was a simple solution to the problem. The library would get a new copy of Twerp’s and he would not get arrested again. Cheaper than bail, for certain.
“What did you need tomorrow, Scootaloo?” called out Emerald as he waited for the ink to dry.
“My parents left me a cash voucher for spending money,” she called back. “They’re leaving tomorrow before the bank opens, and I need an adult to countersign it for the clerk.”
“Sounds reasonable,” said Emerald. He folded and tucked until the envelope was ready for mailing, then placed it into the outgoing mail, reminding himself to pay Miss Doo extra for express delivery and return. A quick stroll into the kitchen left no doubts that Scootaloo was at least trying to do dishes, although making a terrible mess.
By the time he had gotten all of the suds cleaned up and the dishes onto a towel to dry, he was all alone in the kitchenette again. A quick look around the main room showed no sign of the young pegasus, so Emerald finished up his chores, checked the front door of the library to make sure the wards had engaged when Scootaloo had left with her parents, then settled back down on the familiar couch, lumps and all.
“Not a bad day,” he murmured to himself, looking at the cheery red glow the fireplace was putting out across the library main room while making a short list of his chores for tomorrow. It gave him enough light to read for a time, then when he got too tired, he put his list in the book to mark his place, curled up under the warm couch throw, and let the cozy warmth and scent of a library carry him off into slumber with one final murmured, “Life is good.”
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The quiet before the storm.
Two questions for my regular readers:
1. Where did Scootaloo go?
2. Did you see Trixie?
Yak advice best advice!
Also, I'm highly amused, and not at all surprised, that Lyra knows exactly who Emerald is. Also also, that's some adroit parent-implying action from Scootaloo, and careful evidence destruction from Applejack!
10851847
No good sir for I am not smart, I saw the "On Hiatus" tag and went "Golly gee willikers I hope he gets back to this" and didn't even think to check blogs.
I wonder what Scoots got Emerald to order for the CMC this time. 50 gallons of Nitro for their Space Cannon Cutie Mark attempt?
CMCSP YAAAAAAAAAY
10852277
Dun, Dun, DUUUNNNN
Yak of mystery and philosophy seems to have many answers... a disturbing number of answers to questions not spoken of.
For a stallion who avers being disinclined towards the concept of marriage to a certain Librarian, he seems to be doing far too much thinking about said concept.
That would be cool but Lyra, like us, you are apparently destined to be disappointed in this... doesn’t mean there may not be alternate fireworks when he possibly meets some of the other Bearers.
The Scoots situation seems to be a timebomb ticking... I must admit as I read the last bit I was waiting for the penny to drop in that he had to realise that at no point had he met Scoots parents and that it was fishy that no parent appeared to even say a “Hello” before taking away said filly tonight, let alone tried to ascertain who the mystery foalsitter had been. For a rather observant pony, Emerald has fallen down on this one.
Speaking of observation... for a Trixe appearance, that one I missed it seems... last we and Emerald knew was that she was at the rock farm but, eh, with TGaPT who knows?
Not with that attitude.
Famous last words.
It is lovely to see some idyllic time in Ponyville. Fellow Canterlotter Lyra knowing Emerald is lovely touch. Now to see how it all goes horribly, hilariously wrong...
I still believe this will happen, likely some years down the road and he already married, but it will. And it'll be severely underwhelming because they'll both be reasonable adults that have worked through the brunt of their issues.
Either that or Georg will pull a sneaky on us and have them marry
10852359
Considering that this story is estee adjacent? That voucher is probably going towards her household expenses like the mortgage.
10853319 No, she hasn't purchased the house yet. She's still at the sleeping at friends house and the CMC clubhouse and other places where she can stay warm in the winter stage. (wait for it)
10852860 Told you, they're never going to be in the same room. I promise. Honest. Would I lie to you?
10852579 If everything is coming your way, turn around. You're going the wrong way on a one-way street.
10852398 He's living in a building that has Twilight in every book and furniture and icebox content, as well as her scent. That's going to affect one's thoughts. That's a good reason he's not sleeping in her bed.
"Spike, why are there long green hairs in the sheets?"
10852359 It is actually mentioned at one point that the CMC attempted to get their Marks in controlled demolitions. Emerald is a sucker for children and he will let them talk him into just about anything, but actually buying dynamite... probably not. Probably.
10853367
I've got my eyes on you, buster!!
Awesome chapter
10852340
These days, seeing Scootaloos dodging is like accidentally having read the chapter about the wood chipper first, then seeing the plucky young moppet it's going to feed in a tragic accident after.
Because Glimmer.
Two issues here. First, we have a ‘the same room’ qualifier... is there a possible meet still possible.
Second, “Would I lie to you?” They say never ask a question you may not like the answer to!
I'm going to ship Emerald with Tree. Because Tree obviously likes him.
10852277
Hmm, definitely didn't see Trixie. Scootaloo is in the place that in a hot minute will be on fire, or now distributed amongst many square
metershoofspanswingspans?appropriate units of measureThis is a pretty heart warming chapter
What an excellent yak with yakly advice. Time is unsmashable.