A Head Full of Clay

by Squinty Mudmane

Chapter 3: These Old Ponytales

It was late in the afternoon when Fluttershy finally returned to her cottage, trotting along at a relaxed, serene pace and singing a happy, wordless song. Scootaloo—who had spent the better part of the afternoon in front of the cottage door, alternating between being bored out of her mind and fending off curious animals ranging from small rabbits and songbirds to one particularly irate duck—leapt from the doorstep and rushed to the yellow pegasus before she could even cross the bridge.

“Finally!” Scootaloo groaned in relief. “Feels like I’ve been waiting here forever.”

“Oh, hello again, Scootaloo. Gosh, I didn’t realize you wanted to talk that badly. You should have just said so; I would have come back much earlier,” Fluttershy said with a smile. Scootaloo blinked.

“What? No, I’m not here about that! I’m here with Rainbow Dash’s turtle. She asked me to give him to you while she’s in Cloudsdale.”

Fluttershy let out a little gasp and held a hoof to her mouth. “Oh goodness, that’s right, I had almost forgotten. How’s Tank doing? I do hope he isn’t feeling too lonely without Dash.”

“Huh? Uh, he’s fine, I guess. Anyway, can you take him from here? I’ve kind of got someplace to be.” Scootaloo shifted a bit on her hooves. It had been frustrating to sit still for so long, unable to go anywhere.

“Oh, of course. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat first, though? Maybe a cup of tea?” Fluttershy asked, giving Tank an affectionate stroke on the head.

“No thanks, I really need to get going,” Scootaloo replied, growing a bit irritated with the other pegasus, even though she knew Fluttershy was just being kind.

“Okay then. But if you ever want to talk—”

“Enough about talking!” Scootaloo snapped, instantly regretting it when she saw the timid mare flinch as if she had been kicked, though somehow Scootaloo could not bring herself to apologize for it. Instead, she headed for her scooter and put her helmet back on.

“Look, it’s really nice of you to offer and all, but I’m busy right now, all right? If I need to talk, you’ll be the first to know, but until then, stop asking, okay?” The words tasted bitter from the harsh tone she knew Fluttershy did not deserve.

“Oh, that’s okay, I shouldn’t be so nosy,” the yellow pegasus mumbled into her pink mane, her eyes fixed firmly on her own hooves.

Scootaloo clenched her teeth as she sped off on her scooter, trying to block out that annoying voice in her head.

Wow, that was really nice of you, Scoots. Why didn’t you just tell her that she’s a big crybaby and that her tail looks like an old mop? You remember how sensitive she is about her tail from that time with “Gabby Gums”, don’t you?

‘Shut up,’ she thought to herself.

Because she’s totally the one you’re upset with in the first place, right? Oh, the nerve of that pegasus, showing thoughtfulness towards others.

‘I said shut up!’ She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to be silent.

It’s not because you’re actually frustrated with somepony else, and you’re just too much of a scaredy-pony to admit to yourself that she’s not flawless, oh no.

“Shut up!” she yelled angrily at the sky, startling several birds from the nearest trees and losing control of her scooter for just a moment. She tried to correct her course, but at the speed she had been going and on the bumpy road, it quickly went from bad to worse, and then to a full stop as she crashed into the wayside.

“Ow,” she groaned, picking herself up from the ground with effort. She groaned again when she saw that one of the wheels on her scooter had been bent out of shape by the crash.

“Great. Can this day get any worse?” As she half pushed, half dragged her scooter along, she glanced up at the sky apprehensively for a moment. Mercifully, no rain clouds seemed imminent, and the nagging voice at the back of her mind had subsided for the time being.

---

Dusk was falling by the time Scootaloo reached the little cluster of houses near the fork where the road branched towards the towns of Twinrivers and Starlingholm. The collection of buildings was not large enough to qualify as a village of any description; it consisted of a two-storey inn, a small general store and a slightly larger house with an adjacent shed. The outskirts of the Everfree Forest loomed nearby, far enough away not to be a danger, but still near enough that its presence was just a little unnerving. Ponyville was visible downhill from the houses, with Canterlot perched majestically on the mountainside further off in the distance. To most ponies, this road juncture was just a temporary stop at best, a place to rest up before continuing on to more important locations. To Scootaloo, the third house was home.

She opened the door to the shed and pushed her scooter inside, before heading to the house itself. She was tired, hungry and none too pleased about how the day had turned out.

“Dad, I’m home!” she called as she entered the house. She picked up an enticing, spicy smell in the air, a smell that threatened to pull her out of her gloomy state of mind.

The characteristic tock tock tock of a pegleg against wood in addition to the expected sound of hooves announced her father’s presence before she saw him, peeking his head out from the kitchen.

“Hey there, Scoots. You’re just in time for dinner. Come on and help me deck the table.”

Scootaloo sniffed the air again and brightened up. “Is that… Super-Spicy-Chili-Paprika Soup?” she asked excitedly as she bounced into the kitchen, all her previous troubles momentarily forgotten.

Her father let out a chuckle. “It sure is. I figured you could do with a little something extra after a hard day of ‘crusading’.” The red stallion was stirring a pot on the stove with a wooden spoon in his mouth. He was a somewhat lanky pegasus, with a frazzled mane of dark purple and a Cutie Mark depicting a crossed wrench and screwdriver on his flank. In addition to the wooden prosthetic replacing his right hind leg from around the knee and down, he was also missing his right wing.

Scootaloo darted over to the cupboard and took out two wooden bowls, a skip to her step. There were only a few ways a really bad day could be salvaged, but her favourite meal was definitely among the top three. After filling the bowls with generous helpings of steaming soup, Scootaloo and her father sat down at the low table in the living room

Her father took a sip from his bowl and looked at her expectantly, smiling a little. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense here, Scoots. How’d it go?”

Scootaloo recounted the day’s events, from their ill-fated attempt at Sweet Apple Acres to her delivering Tank to Fluttershy. She omitted the part where she had snapped at the other pegasus, though. “Also, uh, I think I need you to have a look at my scooter again. I kind of crashed on the way home, and one of the wheels got bent,” she concluded.

Her father let out a tutting sound and shook his head a bit. “Sometimes I wonder if making you that scooter was really one of my better ideas or not.”

“Hey! I know how to handle it!” Scootaloo retorted indignantly. “Most of the time,” she added after a few moments.

Her father gave her a wry smile. “Uh-huh. Well, all right, I’ll get it fixed up first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Scootaloo said, slurping up the rest of her soup. She glanced back at the pot on the stove. “So, uh, think there’s enough left for a second helping?”

---

Although it had long since grown dark outside, Apple Bloom continued to read through her books by the light of a firefly lamp. Just like Spike had warned her, A Tourist’s Guide to Manehatten had been exactly what the title said: a generic tourist guide. Although it had a lot of nice pictures of various buildings and statues in the city, it did not have anything that she could really use. From Fillydelphia to Manehatten by Wing was a lot of mumbo jumbo about optimal wind currents for long-distance flight which had quickly made Apple Bloom give up on it, and The Long 13, while interesting, mostly revolved around the stretch of road between Las Pegasus and Sandshade Peak, a griffon settlement near the western border of Equestria. Manehatten was mentioned in passing on a grand total of two pages, so she had put that aside as well. A Traveller’s Essentials had some helpful tips about what to pack for trips to anywhere from deserts to tundras, so Apple Bloom had put it in the pile for ‘Potentially useful if we can find backpacks big enough.’ Maps and Travel Routes of Equestria had decent maps of most places, though none of them were too detailed. The real winner seemed to be the magazine that Spike had found, containing precise descriptions of landmarks and which inns along the way had the cheapest accommodations.

Apple Bloom was just about to pick up the last book, the thin brown one Owlowiscious had found for her, when the door to her room opened and Applejack poked her head inside.

“Apple Bloom? Sugarcube, would ya like ta come down an’ have a bite of apple pie? Granny Smith just made it, delicious an’ warm as ya please.”

“Mm, in a minute, Ah’m jus’ gonna read this,” Apple Bloom replied absently, flipping the book open.

Tracking Tincoat: In Pursuit of Understanding

By Dew Glitter, scholar at Jadehorn University, Manehatten

Dear reader. If you are of the scholarly mindset, you may have stumbled upon the name of Tincoat, a unicorn sage who is supposed to have lived during—

“It’s jus’, ya’ve been cooped up in yer room pretty much from the moment ya came back home, an’ we’re startin’ ta get a mite worried ’bout ya. Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with wantin’ ta read, mind, but ya didn’t come down for dinner either,” Applejack continued, giving her sister a worried glance.

“Right, right, jus’ gimme a bit to finish this,” Apple Bloom mumbled, not taking her eyes off the book.

“All right then, sugarcube, but don’t take too long now. Gonna want ta grab a slice while the pie’s still warm.” Applejack gave her sister a bright smile before closing the door again.

—lived during the years immediately following the banishment of the legendary Nightmare Moon. Whether Tincoat is a fictional pony or not has been a subject of debate since the moment a tablet referencing his name was unearthed near the small settlement of Ponyville.

“Huh?” Apple Bloom muttered to herself. This did not seem at all like the other books she had borrowed. She tried to look for any sort of date on the book. Between heaps of formal-sounding stuff on the first page before the introduction, a small number indicated that it was written nearly seventy years ago. That would make it close to when Granny Smith and her family had helped found Ponyville. Apple Bloom continued to read, suddenly feeling very interested.

Soon after its discovery, the tablet was declared to be a fake by several experts, and its discoverer, one Jitterleaf, was branded as a fraud. Most of my peers have dismissed Tincoat as an elaborate scam by a desperate settler pony looking to get rich and famous. However, I have since come to believe that Jitterleaf’s find may in fact have been genuine. I base this not least on a recently discovered journal, which I can say with almost complete certainty belonged to somepony who lived almost a full millennium ago. A pony who identifies himself as Tincoat.

The journal was discovered by a mining team excavating a new dig in Silverpeak Mountain, where they found it in what seemed to be a natural cave that had partially collapsed at some point. While the journal itself had been protected from the ravages of time by a powerful preservation spell, the same could not be said for whatever else was in the chamber, and it was impossible to determine whether there had been more of Tincoat’s belongings there. Nevertheless, while the journal appears to have been only one of several, it shed considerable light on this mysterious pony.

Tincoat appears to have been a pony wracked by guilt. Many of the entries in the journal lament a great “mistake” that he needed to atone for, though none of them go into greater detail about the exact nature of this mistake that seems to have haunted him so. Also of interest are a few references to an apprentice of his, who is stated to have been living in the vicinity of the ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. This corresponds well with the tablet that was discovered, as Ponyville’s proximity to the Everfree Forest places it relatively close to the old castle. Alas, there is no way to know for certain, as the tablet was destroyed soon after it was declared a fake.

Perhaps the most interesting clue about Tincoat’s purpose is an entry in which he refers to a “golem” (see page 78 for an exact transcript). As some of my readers may know, a golem is an old ponytale for foals in some of the more rural parts of Equestria. Supposedly, it is a pony made of clay and magic, with the strength and fortitude of ten earth ponies. An obscure legend, but one that Tincoat seems to treat as fact. Indeed, Tincoat alludes to a “golem” being a traveling companion of his.

Apple Bloom paused. The strongest pony she knew was Big Macintosh, and only Applejack came even close to being as tough as him. The idea of ten Big Macintoshes crammed together into one pony seemed absurd. Such a pony would probably be able to flip the entire farmhouse over with a single buck. She leafed through the book until she came to page 78.

Transcript of entry five from Tincoat’s journal:

Day 33.

I am starting to believe my endeavor is a lesson of futility. I am no closer to my destination now than when I set out all those days ago. The damnable golem has been silent for a full week now. It is maddening! It just stares at me, day and night, stares without eyes, accusing me, blaming me. As if it is not enough that I am haunted by guilt in both my waking and dreaming moments, now I must also be judged by a pile of clay? I wish I had never created it. Part of me wants nothing more than to tear its gem out and be rid of its baleful sightless glower. But another part of me realizes that it is justified. It knows. And it is right. It is my fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. [Author’s note: This is repeated 27 times. I suspect Tincoat’s mind may have wandered at this point, or he may have been suffering from some form of mental ailment. The entry concludes as follows]

I cannot give up. I must set this right. May Celestia show me mercy.

Apple Bloom was growing more confused by the moment, but she found it hard to put the book down. The story being told seemed ridiculous; she had certainly never heard of anything called a golem. Yet whichever smarty-pants had written this book seemed to believe it was real. A pony as strong as ten Big Macintoshes? And it could be made out of clay?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts as her sister appeared again, looking more concerned this time.

“Uh, sugar? Are ya sure ev’rythin’s all right?” Applejack asked. “Y’aren’t upset ’bout somethin’, are ya?”

Apple Bloom gave her a little dismissive wave. “Nah, Ah jus’ got the itchin’ to do some readin’. Y’know how it is, right?”

“Right. Well, me an’ Big Mac are gonna catch some shuteye now. Granny Smith’s already dozed off. Ah left ya a slice of the apple pie on a plate outside yer door, in case ya start feelin’ hungry.” Applejack looked at her sister with growing concern, scuffing a hoof against the floor.

“All righty. Night-night, sis,” Apple Bloom replied, leafing through the book to get back to where she left off.

“G’night, sugar. Try not to stay up all night, hey?” Applejack gave her a little grin that she did not see, her nose already buried in the book again. The older farmpony looked at her with worry before silently closing the door again. Apple Bloom cuddled up a little further under her blanket as she continued to read.

No matter how much my peers may want to dismiss this as wild speculation and fanciful thinking, I believe the evidence speaks overwhelmingly in my favour; Tincoat was indeed a real pony, and his place in history may have been more significant than we realize. My peers were wrong to dismiss the original tablet as a fake, and they are wrong to dismiss my theory as amateurish.

At that point, the book went into an extensive rant about how Dew Glitter was right and her peers were wrong, descending into a heap of scientific jargon and yack that Apple Bloom quickly grew bored with. She skipped ahead in the book, noting with frustration how there was little else about Tincoat or his golem. Only at the end of the book did her interest perk up again.

Thus we can conclude that Tincoat, regardless of his state of mind, is a figure that warrants further investigation. His journal alone is a discovery of the century, and it frustrates me beyond words that it has not received more attention. I have personally sent several petitions asking to have the journal moved to the Canterlot Archives to take its place among other significant relics of history, and I have recently submitted a petition to the Royal Canterlot Archaeologist Society—as well as our own Jadehorn Excavations branch of the Society here in Manehatten—asking for funding to organize an expedition to further unravel this mystery. With luck, we will soon have more insight into our collective history than ever before. Those who participate in this glorious undertaking should rightfully be called champions of history, and should be credited for daring to stand up to the sceptics and naysayers.

A slow smile spread across Apple Bloom’s face as she closed the book. Of course! This was it! Forget Manehatten and deserts and Cloudsdale and all that other stuff. This was how they were finally going to earn their Cutie Marks! ‘Champions of History.’ Apple Bloom rolled the word over in her head. It was good. It felt suitably epic. And she knew exactly where to start.

Comments

[Daedalus1776]

1385428 I knew it! :D Glad to hear I'm not quite as nuts as I thought. Looking forward to catching more of these in the future.

[Daedalus1776]

Now this is interesting. Got me all curious about this Tincoat character, now. Lookin' forward to the next update!

[Squinty Mudmane]

1393937 Thanksies, I was a bit worried this chapter might be a bit heavy on the exposition, but I think it worked out all right.

[statoose]

Woah boy, this is getting exciting! I look forward to both what Apple Bloom has in mind, and potentially finding out more about this Tincoat. It's quite an intriguing story.

[Squinty Mudmane]

3119888
Yeees, let the mysteries draw you in! Mwahahah!

I do look forward to hearing your thoughts on how the story develops.

[Godiswithus3]

So.....this is where the plot starts.

And the Scootaloo and Dad relationship was.......well......I can see how they really bond with each other, considering their disabilities.