The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

by TheMessenger

6. Impression Left Behind

6. Impression Left Behind

The sun took its time climbing over the horizon to take its place in the sky. The village was still largely dark, but already it bustled with life. Several ponies were up and wandered the streets just outside their homes, chopping wood or sharpening tools as they prepared for the day ahead. A small line had formed before a well in the center of the village as the ponies waited to fill their jugs with water. A couple of chimneys were already puffing out smoke as the rooster continued to sing.

The cottage of Farm Right and Hearth Stead was no exception. The whole family had waken themselves, gotten up, and shoved the mattresses to the side while the rooster’s first crow was still echoing. Farm, after a quick greeting and throwing on his cap, stepped out while Hearth busied herself at the stove, feeding the fire with bits of kindling and bundles of fire wood before pulling out a sack of grains and the cutting board and preparing some vegetables.

Only Rarity and Harvest sat around with nothing to do. Rarity had offered her assistance but Hearth was adamant in her refusal.

“You’ll, ah, be having a long day,” she had said with a halfhearted smile. “It might be best to save your strength until then.”

So Rarity took her place at the dining table and watched Hearth prepare breakfast for a few minutes before turning to the filly sitting across from her. Harvest was being strangely quiet, considering the loud and apparently boundless energy she, like many youth, seemed to exude the previous day. Perhaps she was simply tired, Rarity reasoned as Harvest let out a large yawn.

Should she attempt engaging in conversation? As versed as she was at making small talk with members of high society, Rarity was much less experienced in the kinds of topics that would interest a filly like Harvest. She tried to recall the times she had spent with Sweetie Belle, tried to remember what her younger sister enjoyed talking about, tried to ignore the waves of homesickness that came with such memories.

Show tunes, tutoring at Twilight’s school, her most recent escapades with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, nothing there seemed very appropriate for Harvest. Rarity went back further, to when Sweetie Belle was closer to Harvest’s age. Puppet shows, dress up, ice cream, her most recent attempts with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders in earning a Cutie... Mark.

One quick glance confirmed it; Harvest’s flanks were blank. Rarity cleared her throat. “So, Harvest?”

The filly lifted her head and blinked. “Hm?”

Rarity managed to continue smiling despite her misgivings at Harvest’s intonation. That reluctance in her tone, was that really just from a shortage of sleep? “I noticed you don’t have a Cutie Mark. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, my very own sis—“

That vision, it was so vivid, it couldn’t possibly have been just a dream. It certainly refused to fade from her memory like a simple dream. Even now, the Queen of Fey’s advice ran through her head, and the part about playing a role caused her to pause. Did Princess Shmarity have a sister? Did Rarity even want to assume this identity? Was there any point in pretending with Harvest? Farm may have already explained what had happened at the village gathering last night. Perhaps that was why Harvest was acting so shy, and attempting to act like Princess Shmarity might further damage Harvest’s perception of her.

Harvest was staring, waiting with a look of confusion. Rarity cleared her throat. “Er, that is to say, somepony I was close to didn’t get her Cutie Mark until she was older than you are now. Is there anything you’re particularly interested in? Any hobbies?”

Harvest gave a little shrug. “Not really,” she said, resting her chin on the table. “Not a whole lot to do around here.”

“Oh. Well, there must be something you enjoy doing, maybe something with your friends?”

The filly rolled her head onto a cheek. “Nah.”

“Oh.” Rarity’s smile wavered. “I see.”

“Harvest, get your head off the table,” Hearth Stead called over from her position at the stove. Harvest’s annoyed sigh was the last sound either she or Rarity made before an air of silence and awkwardness settled over them. Rarity’s failures in starting a conversation sapped any desire to try again.

The spell over the table finally broke when the door swung open, and in stepped Farm Right. He dragged a large jug behind him while carrying a small bag in his mouth, letting it hang limply from his clenched teeth. With a quick nod to Rarity, he continued on to his wife and set the jug of sloshing water next to her. The bag he placed right in the middle of Hearth’s breakfast preparations. The mare raised an eye brow at the interruption.

“A little something from Mellows and her family,” Farm Right explained. At that, Hearth lit up and all but tore open the bag. Four large, golden, lopsided orbs rolled onto the counter and into Hearth’s outstretched hoof.

“Eggs!” Harvest cried out, rushing over to her parents. She squeezed past them and placed her hooves against the edge of the counter, hopping up and down for a better look. “And there’s so many of them.”

“Be sure to thank Mrs. Mellows when you see her,” Farm Right said with a chuckle. “Come on, go get ready for breakfast. Can you show, um, our guest where to wash up?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Harvest pushes herself away from the eggs and the counter and ran out, not bothering to wait for the pony she was supposed to be guiding. Hearth Stead gave Rarity an apologetic smile as Farm rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment.

“Sorry for Harvest’s attitude, miss,” he said. “Wasn’t easy explaining the situation to her, and looks like she’s still taking it pretty hard. I mean, you saw the fit she threw last night.”

Rarity, lost in her own worries and panic that night, couldn’t honestly say that she did; there wasn’t much she could recall from that period between the end of her meeting with Elder Woods and her vision of the Queen of Fey. “What did you tell her?”

“Told her you’d have to leave,” Farm explained, “that you, um, might not be our princess.” He grimaced. “Didn’t feel right to lie to her, but maybe I said too much. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Rarity assured. “I understand, there’s no need to apologize. Now, where do I wash my hooves?”

“There’s a washbasin around the back,” said Hearth. “Right next to a large barrel with the water. Just be sure to cover them both when you’re done, please.”

With a nod and a quick word of thanks, Rarity followed Harvest’s path out of the cottage. A brisk morning air greeted her almost immediately, and she shivered in response. The pendant from her dreams, the Court of Fey’s symbol, bounced against her front. Rarity placed a hoof gingerly on it, making a face as she brushed past the crusty cloth of the dirty dress she’d have to change out of the moment she got the chance to. The silver symbol was still, no humming, no vibrations.

A focus to channeling the Queen of Fey’s magic. Well, while she had no idea how it work, at least she knew its origin and purpose and could now put those mysteries to rest. Not to mention she had at least the direction where she could find information on this ‘necromancy’ to save Spike and Discord and reunite with her horn. How fortuitous that all her answers seemed to lie south.

Maybe even a little too convenient, Rarity thought to herself as she headed behind the house and found the large tin washbasin covered with a sheet of canvas. There was still the matter of actually trusting the Queen of Fey. Maybe it was the disinterested way they carried themselves, maybe it was the references to a plan she wasn’t privy to, maybe the being just reminded her too much of Discord, whatever the reason, there was just something about the magical sovereign that sent Rarity’s guard up.

Rarity shrugged with the barrel’s lid for a bit before filling the basin with water. Well, she had a direction and a term, perhaps Rarity could find somepony who could confirm the information she was given. And if the information couldn’t be verified, if it was all just a pile of lies, Rarity tried not to ponder too long on that scenario and what her potential options would be. For now, she tried to maintain a level of optimism tempered by caution and skepticism.

The water settled down as Rarity readied her hooves for a washing. There was an obvious lack of soap or towels, and Rarity questioned the reasoning behind washing up outside instead of indoors given how dusty the path between here and the front of the cottage had been. She looked down and nearly screamed at the mare in the water. Her mane could have been more appropriately described as a nest, messy and sticking out in parts that had once been perfectly curled and arranged. Spots of dirt clung to the face reflecting off the water’s clear surface, and there were sections of visibly matted fur. She could only imagine and shudder at what her tail and the rest of her body was like.

There was little she could do with her mane without the proper tools, she’d have even settle for a simple comb, so she focused her efforts on her her face, scrubbing at her cheeks as she splashed them with freezing water. She eventually reached the limit of what could be done with just water and unassisted physical exertion and came to terms with her disappointing appearance before continuing onto her hooves. Again, the final result wasn’t exactly what Rarity considered satisfactory, but she supposed it would have to do. The used water was spilled onto the ground, making mud, and after making sure both the canvas covering and the barrel’s lid were replaced, Rarity headed back inside.

Bowls of porridge were waiting for her at the table, each with a collection of stewed vegetables and an egg. Farm Right looked up at the sound of Rarity’s approach. He expression slowly became one of confusion . “You, uh, happen to bump into Harvest out there?”

“No, I hadn’t seen her,” Rarity answered. “I thought she had finished ahead of me and was already inside.”

“Well, nopony’s gone through that door since you went out,” Farm Right said, frowning. “Hm, where is that filly?”

“I’ll go look for her,” Hearth Stead declared as she undid the apron and removed it. “You two go ahead and get started on breakfast.”

“Maybe we should all look together,” Rarity suggested, starting toward the door. Hearth shook her head and motioned her back to the dining table.

“Elder Woods’ll be here soon. You’re going to need your strength for the—“ The mare hesitated. “For your journey.” Hearth lowered her gaze. “It’ll be a hard one, I’m sure. I’m sorry.” And with her head bowed, Hearth rushed past Rarity and left the cottage.

Farm clasped his hooves together against the table’s surface and sighed as he closed his eyes. “She’s right. We’ve both got a hard day of work ahead of us. Er, I mean, not to say mine’ll be as bad as, just that there’s a lot of work we’ve both got to, um.” He coughed. “Let’s eat.”

Rarity took the seat across from the stumbling farmer and, after seeing Farm dig into his own bowl, picked up her spoon and pierced the egg yolk. It broke easily, spilling out warm, gooey, yolk over the stewed grains. She lifted a spoonful of porridge and egg to her mouth. The lightly seasoned barley mixed perfectly with the subtle flavor of the yolk. A second spoonful soon followed, this time with a slice of salted radish.

The bowls to the sides of her went untouched. “Will Harvest be alright?” Rarity asked.

“Hm?” Farm Right raised his head and quickly wiped his chin with his hoof. “Well, her breakfast’ll be cold when she gets here, and I figure she might be getting few extra chores for her attitude. Besides that, I don’t think there’s much to worry about. Harvest was like this the morning Summer Springs left too. Don’t you worry, she’ll be back when she gets hungry.”

“If you say so.” Rarity returned to her breakfast. “You mentioned that Elder Woods was coming to see us?”

“Well, you specifically,” Farm Right said. “To, make sure you were prepared and, uh, left the village without trouble.” At this, Farm swallowed and averted his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Rarity set down her spoon. Suddenly, breakfast wasn’t so appealing. “I understand your leader’s reasoning. It’s alright.”

“It really ain’t alright. I mean, even if you aren’t the princess, just throwing you out like this instead of helping.” He shook his head. “Ain’t right. Yeah, these are hard times, but that’s exactly when we should be helping folks who need it, not just looking out for ourselves. Just, ugh.” Farm Right slumped in his seat. “Wish we had more to offer you.”

“You’ve been generous enough already,” Rarity assured. “After everything you and your household has done for me, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

Farm was silent, but he allowed a smile to slowly creep across his face. “Thank you,” he eventually said after a bit.

Rarity smiled back, and the two returned to their breakfast. It didn’t take long before their bowls were empty, and Rarity had her fill. The seats beside her remained unoccupied even as she and Farm Right left theirs to clean up. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Farm looked to Rarity for moment, then turned to the entrance.

Even as Rarity considered whether Hearth and Harvest would’ve bother knocking, the door was opened. She couldn’t see past Farm Right whose body almost immediately stiffened at their visitor’s presence. Then, he seemed to relax, just a bit before his shoulders became tense once more.

“Elder Woods,” Rarity heard him say. “Huntress. We, uh, we were just finishing up breakfast.”

“Then she is ready?” It was the voice of a mare, the same voice of Elder Woods companion from last night.

“Well, I mean, we just finished eating.”

“There’ll be time to digest on the road,” the mare said sharply. “Come, we have much to discuss and little time to spare.”

“Right.” Farm sighed. “Alright, yeah, I get it.” He stepped to the side. “Miss? They’re here for you.”

Rarity took a deep breath and approached the entrance. With Farm Right now out of the way, she could clearly see both the mare called ‘Huntress’ and Elder Woods, with the older zebra a few steps behind the mare. Both were fitted with large saddle bags, and a couple of additional bundles were strapped to Huntress’s back, including some blankets and what Rarity assumed to be a rolled up sleeping bag. An unstrung bow with a covered quiver was attached to her side.

Rarity cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

“Ah, a good morn to you too,” Elder Woods declared, his wrinkled face cracking into a weathered smile. “How has this day been treating you?”

“It’s been fine, I suppose,” Rarity said. “I can’t complain. And you?”

“We can exchange pleasantries later,” Huntress interjected just as Elder Woods was opening his mouth to speak. He sighed, his smile fading. The mare turned back to Rarity. “Let’s get you geared up first, then we discuss the details.”

She helped the old zebra remove the bags from his back, and from it she pulled out a folded piece of cloth. “Here,” she called out, tossing the cloth toward Rarity. The bundle unraveled, revealing itself to be a hooded cloak. “Get changed. It’ll be easier to travel in than that dress. Something wrong?”

Rarity shook herself and tore her eyes away from the cloak. She tried to smile. “No, no. It’s nothing.”

“Then hurry it up,” the mare ordered. The scar running below her eyes appeared to widen as she scowled.

“Right, of course. Farm, excuse me please.”

“Huh? Oh!” the farmer exclaimed as Rarity all but pushed him out of his own home and slammed the door behind him. He looked to his two visitors with a quizzical expression, and they in turn could only shrug in bewilderment.

“Is that, some sort of royalty thing?” Farm Right asked.

“Wouldn’t know.” Huntress sat back and folded her forelimbs over her chest. She glared at the closed door. “She’s better not be trying to barricade herself inside.”

“One moment please!” came Rarity’s voice from inside. She turned back to the cloak in her hooves. Here was the first opportunity to change out of that old gaudy, dirty dress she found herself in, an opportunity Rarity had been looking so forward to, and now, face to face with the alternative, she found herself hesitating.

Her eyes twitched at their very exposure to the color. Such a drab mix of greens and browns, a less refined mare might have made the comparison to vomit. The fabric was coarse and stiff in her hooves, she didn’t want to think how it would feel against her delicate body. And it was just so, plain. Dull. No designs, no exterior pockets, not even sleeves. It was little more than a blanket with a hood attached.

There was a pound at the door. Somepony was clearly getting impatient. “In a minute!” Rarity called out as she started to undress. Getting out of the dress without her latent magic proved to be a challenge, and she had to stretch to reach the laces on the back, but in the end, she stood triumphantly over that overly pink and puffy crime against fashion, crumpled into a pile.

Donning the cloak on the other hoof took Rarity nearly no time at all, just a simple matter of slipping her head through the hood’s opening and making sure the rest of her body was covered. It surprised how soft the interior of the cloak compared to the toughness of its exterior, perhaps even being made of a different material. She looked down at herself and frowned. As much as she dreaded her current appearance, Rarity still wished for a mirror to at least give herself an appraisal and maybe even provide a few improving touches.

She took one last look at the discarded dress. As much as the seamstress despised its design, it had served her well, protecting her from much of the mud that she had fallen in. The stains had actually reduced the brightness of the pink, making the color almost acceptable. She patted down her new cloak, making sure her pendant was well secured, picked up the dress, and opened the door.

“Apologies for the wait,” she said, the warm smile she wore in contrast to the coolness of her tone.

Huntress responded to Rarity’s look with a glare of her own. “If you’re done wasting time, here.” She marched over to Rarity’s side and threw on the saddlebags that Elder Woods had brought along. Rarity’s knees buckled under the sudden weight. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” In the short time it took for Rarity to adjust to her new burden, the other mare had already made a good amount of distance between them. “Um, are we leaving right now? As in, this very second?”

Huntress groaned. She continued walking but was stopped by Elder Woods. “It is best that you leave before it gets to late. Is there any reason you are wanting to wait?”

“It’s just, I was hoping to thank Hearth one last time and give my farewells to Harvest before I left,” Rarity explained. She looked around. There was the grumpy mare with the scar, there was the old, wizened zebra, there was the compassionate farmer, but only the farmer’s kind wife and their curious daughter were missing.

There was a frustrated sigh from Huntress. “We can’t afford to wait, not if you want to make any real progress before nightfall.”

“Don’t worry, miss,” said Farm Right. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along. They’ll appreciate it, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you, Farm, for everything.” Rarity held out her old dress to the farmer. “It isn’t much, but I’d like you and your family to have this.”

Farm Right simply stared blankly at the offered garments. It struck Rarity a moment too late that a secondhand, unwashed dress from a stranger might not have been the greatest present. “Er, the fabric is very high quality.” And it was, Rarity had to admit that much in spite of her distaste for the dress. “I’m certain your family can find some use for it, maybe for blankets or other clothing.”

“We could never!” Farm exclaimed. He took the dress with shaking hooves. “Thank you, miss. For something this grand, thank you.” He bowed. “We’ll cherish this for generations, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s, that’s good! Yes, good.” Rarity let out a short laugh, relieved that she hadn’t offended her host. The mare ahead of them looked less impressed as she coughed loudly and jerked her head toward some point in the distance. Rarity sighed before turned back to Farm Right. “I wish you the best, you and your family. Farewell.”

“Safe travels, miss. May those above watch over you.”

The goodbyes were said, and yet, Rarity lingered, hoping to hear or see a certain little filly rush toward her. No such luck. With one last sigh, Rarity turned to Huntress and Elder Woods and made her way toward them, each step heavy and not just because of the extra weight on her back.

”A lady is only as good as her word.”

She was leaving behind a dirty dress and a broken promise, hardly the kind of impression Rarity wanted to leave.